Author: Andrew Butcher
Date: 2012-06-21 04:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Paranormal; Mystery; Fantasy; Fiction; Romance; Urban Fantasy; Thriller; Paranormal Romance; Horror; Suspense
Description: A woman fated to die. A vision that could save her ... Nicolas Crystan, struggling to cope with his traumatic past, shuffles through life keeping mostly to himself ... until he has a disturbing daydream of a woman's death. At first he tries to forget it, but when real life mimics the daydream, he realises it was no ordinary fantasy--it was a vision of the future. To save a life, he must act fast. When Juliet Maystone escapes death, defying fate, she becomes 'displaced' in this world. All she wants is to return to her bustling day-to-day routine, successfully running her own business, but as ha

A Death Displaced

LANSIN ISLAND SERIES

By Andrew Butcher

Copyright

A Death Displaced

First Edition 2012

Copyright © by Andrew Butcher 2012

Cover design by Andrew Butcher

All characters and events in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance whatsoever to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Acknowledgements

Thanks go to my dad for reading every chapter as I wrote it and for providing feedback and encouragement. Jenni Toes, Sophie May Denman and Mamane Mabika also provided valuable feedback; thank you.

Thanks also go to my mum, the rest of the family (and our various pets), and to my close friends for emotional support.

And finally, thank you to my partner, Luke, for supporting me and putting up with my nonstop obsession with writing this novel.

Dedicated to Monty

Chapter 1

It felt so real.

Was this actually happening? His senses alleged yes, his mind suspected no. Maybe it was a daydream or an out-of-body experience? Possibly, his imagination was unbounded, taking flight? He pondered the matter until his thoughts tumbled out of reach and fell so far that he no longer disputed its reality…

The definite coolness and damp in the air left no doubt that it was early morning. He walked towards his workplace, Creaky Crystals, in the lower grounds of Amiton town centre, his winklepickers tip-tapping on murky cobbles.

A red-headed girl spun circles near the fountain feature and fell into his path, causing him to side step. He apologised for the near collision and carried on his way. The girl scurried off to her mother who was setting up a stall for business.

He smiled.
Halloween decorations filled the shop windows; an array of ghouls, pumpkins, witches and vampires. ‘Happy Halloween’ was found in orange, black, purple and white; and in one gruesome display, a blood-red dripping font.

There was a lady re-arranging her window layout in preparation for opening. She caught his eyes and gave a friendly nod.
He inclined his head and waved to her.

The morning was as peaceful as a cat asleep; or like a tortoise bathing in the sun, it was quiet, settled.

On approach to Creaky Crystals, he spotted a seagull sat right in front of the store. No other birds flocked overhead; none were in sight, only this solitary seagull, squatted like it was waiting for the shop to open.

Of course, nothing was strange about seagulls in Amiton, but this one fixedly stared; directly at him. It was so still. The eeriness of it made his bones fidget. Stupid seagull.

The screeching of tyres came from above. He stopped his walk. His gaze shot to the upper grounds. The seagull reacted instantly; it smoothly jumped into flight as if it knew the harsh cries were coming.

There was no way to see the commotion from where he stood. The 50ft wall separating the upper and lower grounds had zigzag steps up the side and a low wall along the top to protect people from falling.

Echoes. The sounds of metal scraping, twisting, crunching. Police sirens wailed in the distance. He couldn’t see at this angle, but he imagined that a car had crashed into something at high speed, flipped and had begun to roll.

Then came a thud. Something finally came into view, a woman. The car must have hit her hard. She was vaulted over the wall a great distance and fell to the lower grounds. He saw her hit the ground. Did he hear her skull crack open or was it her neck breaking?

He snapped out of it.

*

Whoa, he opened his eyes and had to blink a few times. That was too real, too disturbing. It would teach him a lesson for trying to meditate at work.

He’d always been interested in meditation, out-of-body experiences and anything and everything spiritual. But that was probably because it had surrounded him his whole life. He didn’t even know what he was trying to accomplish by meditating this time.

Usually it was to try to meet some kind of deity, visualise his dream future, or ask his ‘higher self’ for guidance, but this time he just had a disturbingly realistic daydream.

I really am screwed up, imagining a woman fall to her death.

He didn’t actually think he was screwed up; he was just Nicolas Jack Crystan, or Nick for short, and what could he think of his life? He was twenty four, had no future plans, was always striving for enlightenment (whatever that was) and he worked in a crystal shop.

‘Excuse me…’ whined a lady with a scrunched-up face.

Nick’s work place, Creaky Crystals, was located in the corner of The Fallend in the lower grounds, snug against the wall. The Fallend was one large shopping street with a high wall and steps at the end leading to the upper grounds.

‘Hi, how can I help?’ Nick sat behind the counter. He tried to portray alert-and-ready-to-serve the best he could.

‘Oh, so you are working, not just taking a nap?’ she smiled sardonically, her sarcasm potent and ugly.

‘Sorry, it’s been a quiet day, what can I do for you?’ he couldn’t help but observe her choice of clothing. She looked like a witch in a kids’ school play, minus the green face paint and plus an absurd amount of jewellery. What concerned him was when he realised that she was serious in her selection of garments.

‘Do you sell any other wands?’ she asked with a widening of her eyes, ‘I don’t like the ones on display. They don’t feel right.’

‘They are all we have in stock, sorry.’

‘You’re not going to check out the back for me?’ she asked, retracting her head and creating a double chin.

‘I know what stock we have and there are no more wands.’

‘Can you go and check anyway, just in case you’ve missed some?’

‘No… Sorry, I’d be wasting your time.’

‘I’m not in a hurry.’ God, this woman was relentless.

‘Trust me, there’s no more stock out the back.’ he said with finality.

He caught his reflection in the shop window and ruffled his deep brown hair, then let it settle looking stylishly dishevelled. He realised that he was staring at the spot where he imagined the woman hit the ground. It was directly out the front of Creaky Crystals.

‘Just so you know. The other tourist shops around here have a wider range of items. Why is your store so limited?’ she seemed to ask with genuine interest. Please get a life.

‘I’m sorry to hear that but my manager is happy with our range of products. If you’re not happy then feel free to buy from those other shops you mentioned.’ he replied, more antagonising than intended.

She huffed and declared, ‘I will shop elsewhere!’ then stormed out of the store.

Oops, slight guilt. He hadn’t meant to upset the lady, but she was rude from the start of the conversation and he was getting sick and tired of all these witch wannabes waddling around Amiton.

This was something he couldn’t avoid due to the history of Lansin Island and the fact that he worked in a tourist shop aimed at those interested in its dark past.

Amiton was the largest town on Lansin Island and it was where all the tourists jumped off the ferry and decided to shop. Nick liked the customers who were interested in witchcraft and the history but he couldn’t stand the witch wannabes who researched Wicca on the internet, read an article on some naff website then declared themselves High Priestess of this, that and the other. Some would shove their views down his throat and threaten to hex him when his customer service skills sucked (which was most of the time).

‘Nicolas?’ her voice was delicate yet held great authority.

‘Yes, Mora?’ he spun to address her.

She was a short, plump lady in her late forties with a calm demeanour. She had brief, cropped chocolate hair and green eyes. Her complexion was so yellowy-white that if she laid with her eyes closed you’d think she was dead, or at least severely ill.

‘That lady didn’t seem too impressed with you?’

‘Yeah, I suggested she shops elsewhere.’

‘You sent a customer away?’

‘She was rude to me.’

‘Okay, Nicolas, but I’d prefer it if your pride didn’t affect our profits in the future.’ It was almost impossible to take offence to anything Mora said. Nick knew she was a careful thinker and spoke only her mind. He liked that about her.

‘I forgot to mention… she didn’t like your wands and she said our store is limited compared to the others in Amiton.’

Mora’s jaw dropped.

After a moment of composing herself, she came out with, ‘Stuff her then. The grumpy sod can shop elsewhere!’ they laughed together, but Nick couldn’t help think, Oh, so it’s fine for your pride to affect profits!

‘Nicolas,’ Mora dawdled off and stood by the table with divination and tarot cards stacked on top. ‘I think more items have been stolen.’ She shook her head and compressed her lips.

‘Really?’

‘I don’t remember selling any of these today, though I could swear there were a lot more here this morning.’

He shrugged his shoulders and wished he knew what to say. Mora toddled back over to him rather solemnly then said, ‘Never mind. Will you keep an eye out for me? Look out for suspicious customers.’

‘Of course.’ he gave an enthusiastic nod.

‘You can get going if you want; it’s not so busy at this time of day. I’ll lock up and there’s not much cleaning to do,’ she scanned the store and returned her eyes to him, ‘and don’t worry, I’ll pay you for the whole shift.’ she sweetly smiled and took his place behind the glass counter.

In comparison to Mora, Nick felt like a giant. She was maybe five feet tall. He noticed the height difference more when she sat down. It didn't bother him much when the other staff members were about, but when it was only him and Mora, he felt almost obliged to slouch his posture and appear shorter.

‘Thank you, Mora. I’ll see you on Friday.’

He scuttled out the back, grabbed his jacket, and hurried out of the store. He waved to Mora on his exit.

Two full time colleagues, Janet and Alan, worked nine to five and had already left. As a part-timer, Nick was meant to work twelve to six today and help Mora close up. He checked the time on his mobile: Twenty past five. Not bad. He smiled.

His black Vauxhall Corsa just about started up. He huffed when he looked at the petrol gauge pointing below the ‘E’ as usual, conjecturing that he could squeeze a few more drives to work and back out of it before visiting a petrol station.

On the drive home, all he thought about was that disturbing daydream. The sound of her hitting the ground was embedded in his mind and seemed to be on replay.

No dreams had ever matched up to how vivid that was. Even the few lucid dreams he’d had were covered in a sense of, ‘Is this really real?’ But when he was in this daydream… he was really there… until he wasn’t; until he snapped back to reality. Or was that reality and this the dream?

Uh, head ache. He needed a hot chocolate, a warm blanket and a decent film to watch. No gory films though.

Driving up Maw Street, he compared his house to the others. The fact that he couldn’t see his house didn’t help much. The evening had begun to darken already and the bungalow he lived in was hidden, shrouded by trees in the front garden.

The other houses on the street were very presentable: groomed and freshly landscaped front-gardens, features, and neatly gravelled driveways. Many of the houses were no longer bungalows but had been extended upwards and outwards.

No doubts as to who the money-makers were on the street.

Most Maw Street residents were proud of their homes. It wasn’t exactly a wealthy street to live on but it certainly wasn’t slummy either. He was pained to know that his house was the lowest valued on the street.

You just have to do something about those awful trees, Aimee Price from number 42 once passed by to tell Nick. The American lady lived alone and was a practicing Wiccan. She had frowned at the prevalent weeds in the driveway and stated that his house put Maw Street to shame.

Miss Price didn’t hesitate to add that she couldn’t stand the thought of her relatives from Los Angeles visiting and being subjected to passing his house on the way to hers.

Nick defended that the enormous sycamore maple trees in the front garden were practically impossible to do anything with and most of the evergreen conifers were too tall to maintain. He couldn’t be asked to trim the shrubbery or to de-weed the drive, and it was the Council’s job to cut the grass out on the front, but most importantly, it wasn’t any of her business.

In his head he also thought, For a Wiccan, you don’t seem to like trees much!

His retaliation must have been unexpected to her. She stalked off after mumbling something along the lines of, ‘I’m not the only one on this street who thinks you need to sort it out.’

Nick signalled and pulled into his drive. An overhanging branch rattled and scratched against the roof of his car.

Okay, maybe I should cut that branch at least.

The drive was carpeted with fallen leaves. At this time of day they were simply shadowy mounds, but in the daylight, the red and orange maple leaves were luscious and vibrant.

When he stepped out of the car, he grumbled at the fact that there was nowhere in the drive he could leave his vehicle without it gathering leaves and sap. He loved and hated the sycamore trees, but right now, all he could think of was how much he detested their sticky sap.

He locked the car then headed inside his home, number 16 Maw Street. The neighbours may not have liked the trees but Nick sure liked the privacy they offered.

He was glad to be home. It was safe here.

After having a ready-made microwave meal, he flopped onto his bed. He had no energy these days. Before he knew it, he woke up three hours later. Urgh! Now he’d struggle sleeping tonight. To help him fall asleep, he read a get-rich-quick book until his eyes were strained.

Wednesday morning, nothing could tempt him to leave his house, apart from that it was probably warmer outside than it was inside. As he’d expected, it was tough getting to sleep. The cold didn’t help but he couldn’t afford to put the heating on too often.

He found a comfortable position in his room and decided to meditate. He quickly cleared his mind and got into some rhythmic breathing. Lately he’d been feeling agitated by the smallest things and kept boxing them off to the corner of his mind, but now they seemed determined to claim recognition.

When he noticed how not peaceful he felt, the irritation bugged him and the more he tried to find peace, the worse his state became.

He fidgeted.

Whatever position he sat in, it created uncomfortable tight areas from his clothes, or he became itchy, had to scratch.

Ignore it, it will go, clear your mind.

A noise interrupted him. The wild beeping of a car horn. Idiots. Drive down my street sensibly, I’m trying to meditate!

He found it again, a clear mind. But then he was annoyed at himself for thinking, ‘My mind is clear.’ Surely his mind wasn’t clear of thought if he was thinking it was clear of thought?

Why don’t I feel peaceful?

The frustration steeped and he lost it. He picked up a smiling Buddha ornament and smashed it against the wall. He tore down posters of tranquil landscapes. He pushed over his open storage cabinet. DVDs clattered on the floor. Self-help books clunked alongside them. About to thump the wall, he stopped, not brave enough. He stomped a heavy foot instead.

Fed up, completely and utterly fed up. He could have seen this coming, he knew all these spiritual, religious and self-help ideas weren’t working for him, but he’d kept on deceiving himself.

Maybe the Law of Attraction can help me, what about CBT, what about Affirmations, how about Witchcraft, EFT, Buddhism, Wicca, Yoga, Laughter-Yoga, Meditation, Visualisation, Divination, and every self-help book under the sun?!

Yeah, sure, they all seemed to work for a while but they never kept him happy for long. He brought together the fingertips and thumb tip of his right hand and used them to repeatedly tap the centre of his left palm. As he continued this he mentally repeated, I’m calm, I’m focused, I’m calm, I’m focused.

It took a while but he eventually composed himself. He looked to his room. Ornaments he’d had for years were broken beyond repair. Visceral regret made a sudden, disheartening appearance in his body. He hated rash outbursts of anger like this, it was like consequences were illusions, and all that mattered was his rage getting its cup full of destruction. And in this case, its room full of destruction.

His morose mood occupied the evening. At least there was something to look forward to the next day. Kind of.

‘Hello, Nicolas.’ Thursday at the local surgery, his therapist greeted him, ‘Come on in, have a seat.’

‘Thank you.’ he sat in his usual place, a bog-standard chair turned at a slight angle to his therapist’s seat. She closed the door and sat down. He envied how she never rushed about or huffed and puffed.

‘How have you been this week?’

‘Err, okay mostly.’ It was true, he’d felt good for a few days after he saw his therapist last week.

‘Okay,’ she nodded gently. It was apparent that she was waiting for him to expand on his answer. If anyone else had done that he would have been annoyed.

‘Well, I got a bit angry last night. I feel like I’m trying so hard to succeed at something but I don’t know what I even want to succeed at. I’ve tried out so many self-help books and so many new things that surely I deserve to be happy about something. I see other people who don’t even seem to try, yet they have everything they want and they are happier than me.’

He understood himself here in the safe-bubble the therapist had created. He felt no judgment.

‘You’re feeling lost?’

‘Yeah… I am.’ He quietly cried. She waited patiently and placed a box of tissues on the nearby desk.

The room was too clinical; a spare room in the surgery, full of doctors’ tools and posters. Cold and unwelcoming, but Nick was referred for therapy free on the NHS so he couldn’t exactly complain.

When he was originally referred, he told his doctor, ‘I’ve been crying frequently, at least once a week for a long time now.’ He was glad it never led to officially being diagnosed as depressed, but he was more pleased that he was taken seriously and sent on for therapy.

He stopped crying. He’d become accustomed to shedding tears in front of his therapist, though overall he was upset less frequently nowadays. It was a steady climb.

‘I feel a bit better now. I don’t really know what else to say about it. I’m going to see how this week goes really.’ He grabbed a tissue and dabbed his eyes.

Having cleared some emotional baggage, his mind went on a tangent… If his therapist was his age, he would probably have found her attractive and the session so wouldn’t work.

She was nearing fifty, looked fit as a fiddle, good teeth, excellent figure, and Nick doubted that her blonde hair had even thought of greying. She had a genuine aura about her; each facial expression was puppeted by real emotions, not by a need for approval. Her name was Caroline. Nicolas and Caroline Crystan… hmm…

‘How are things with your father?’ she asked without preamble. He shook away the odd thoughts.

‘Same as always really. He’s not changed much for the past eight years and it’s still awkward around him.’

‘Do you think he knows how awkward you feel?’

‘I doubt it, it’s like he’s on pause or something. It’s been so long now that I can’t imagine opening up to him.’

‘What if you did talk to him about it?’

‘I just don’t know. I don’t want to lay out my feelings if he’s never going to come out of his own little bubble. It would be even more awkward if I did.’

She nodded and asked, ‘But is it a risk worth taking?’

He thought about it. He remembered when his dad was different to how he was now: he was chatty, he smiled more, laughed more. But that was all before Nick’s mother disappeared eight years ago.

He was sixteen when it happened, and his brothers were only ten. She simply wasn’t home when they got back from school. They waited and waited for her to return but it appeared that she’d withdrawn a few thousand pounds the same day that she vanished. Her car was missing too.

As far as anyone could tell, she’d gone off and started a new life. Lansin Island was in the Celtic Sea, fifteen miles off the coast of Bude in Cornwall, so it would have been easy to get a ferry from Amiton across to Bude, the same as the tourists did. She could have caught a ferry to Cornwall, and then who knows where she went from there?

Nick sure as hell didn’t know.

He didn’t want to think about it anymore. All he knew was that she left with the worst possible timing. It was hard enough being a teenager as it was, but with his dad’s birthday only a couple of weeks after she vanished, it was too cruel.

‘Maybe it’s worth the risk… I’ll have to think some more.’ Once the therapy session was over, he headed home lighter and more able to think clearly.
He spent that evening wrapped under a warm blanket, watching the film Big Fish that his brother, Tom, had lent him. Tom let him borrow it knowing that he was fond of Tim Burton’s work but hadn’t got around to this one yet.

Nick had two brothers, Tom and Tommy. They were twins and both eighteen years of age. Their names could be confusing to other people, but Nick had always been able to tell them apart. Their parents weren’t expecting twins. They’d decided that if the baby was a girl then her name would be Sarah, and if a boy, it would be Thomas. So with the surprise of two baby boys, they settled on Tom and Tommy Crystan.

Like a lot of twins, their relationship with each other was strong. They seemed to have the same hobbies, interests, taste in clothes and even the same taste in women. Tommy had always been the centre of attention; he picked the trends and Tom followed.

Nick didn’t expect Tom to like this kind of film. He’d thought of his brothers as ‘mainstreamers’ who jumped on every bandwagon. He loved them both, but until now he’d assumed they were not just physically twins, but also mind-twins with personalities that reached as far as the local pub.

The blanket wasn’t so warm after all. It was old, tatty and had lost its body, but Nick enjoyed the film and was moved by the emotional ending.

It crossed his mind that if someone described to him a twenty four year old guy snuggled up to himself and watching a film alone, he would think they were a right loser. And on that thought, he called it a night.

The next morning he looked in the mirror before leaving for work. He checked his hair, he was one of those lucky guys with hair that looked naturally rough and styled, so apart from washing it; it needed no extra attention.

People had told him he was good looking before, but he always brushed it off. It wasn’t something he liked to think about. He wasn’t self-conscious but he didn’t like accepting compliments. Most clothes suited him, weight wasn’t an issue and acne had never come knocking.

Feeling mostly satisfied with his reflection, he left for work.

For late October, the weather was pleasant; it wasn’t cold, just cool, damp and fresh. Cold and drizzly rain was the default on Lansin Island, but today was looking up.

He parked his car outside of town and started walking towards Creaky Crystals. Weather permitting, he wore a thin jacket over an olive green T-shirt, and below he had on dark jeans. Black winklepickers were his usual choice of footwear.

In the lower grounds a red-headed girl spun circles in the nearby fountain and fell into his path. He stopped still, his stomach tightened, he came over queasy. His sudden stop caused the girl to bump into him.

He had to rationalise for a second. The girl ran over to her mother who was setting up a stall. He’d probably seen that girl here with her mother loads of times; it was only a coincidence.

He scanned the stores around him, searching for one in particular. As he found it, he caught the eyes of a lady re-arranging her shop display. She gave him a friendly nod. He awkwardly nodded back. He turned dizzy but he forced himself to focus.

Another detail came to mind and he looked to the front of Creaky Crystals.

The seagull was there; it stared at him.

His instincts took control, he knew he had to act quickly; he ran for the steps that lead to the upper grounds and ascended them, regretting his choice of footwear. His legs ached as he reached the top. He heard the car screeching and saw it try to swerve a little business stall, but it failed.

The impact flipped the car. It rolled high speed, heading for the woman. The noises were deafening but he couldn’t stop to cover his ears. He grabbed the woman and spun her away from the vehicle with such force that they almost toppled over the ledge to the lower grounds.

The car slammed into the low wall, only inches away from them and came to a stop. Fortunately the car didn’t go over the side. There was a man inside the upturned car, he looked unconscious and blood dripped from his head. The cry of police sirens drew closer.

Nick realised how hard his grip on the woman was, and with that realisation came another. She wasn’t dead. I saved her.

‘Sorry,’ he said, then let go of her. He looked at her oval face, trying to catch her eyes. They were cerulean blue, but she didn’t look back at him. Her hair was blonde and rested on her shoulders, slightly dishevelled from the incident. She was almost as tall as him, with a slim figure… a great figure.

‘No, it’s fine,’ she let out a heavy breath, seemingly startled, ‘I’ve got to go.’ She turned without another word and headed away from the scene. What if the police wanted a statement from her?

He didn’t know what to do. The woman hurried out of sight. Nick pulled himself together and called for an ambulance. Moments later a police car pulled up. Nick moved away from the wall and the crumpled vehicle.

Even with all the commotion, only three things were on his mind. One: The woman he saved was gorgeous. Two: He’d had a real premonition and saved some one’s life. And three: She didn’t even say thank you to him for saving her!

Chapter 2

The car flipped and rolled, heading straight for her. She knew in that moment that there was no way out of it. Air thumped out of her chest. Pain engulfed her, almost numbing. The impact flung her over the edge. She heard the speed of her decent, the swish on the way down. Her mind writhed in pure terror as she met the street below.

But that didn’t happen, did it? She opened her eyes, and a dark-haired guy gripped her tightly. What just happened?

She felt herself go over the side and fall… to her death. So why was she here, alive? She saw herself die; it didn’t make sense.

‘Sorry,’ the man gripping her said.

Maybe I’m disorientated or in shock? It must be that.
She felt different and she knew it. Altered on a deep level, as if all the cells in her body had changed; like she was zinging with a new kind of energy. She was there but also wasn’t there.

The wrecked car laid metres away from her. She blankly stared at it then glanced over the edge at the sheer drop. Her face buckled and she cringed; it was all too much to take in. She wanted to get away from the confusion.

‘No, it’s fine,’ she said, releasing a breath she’d held prisoner, ‘I’ve got to go.’ She hurried away from the scene and the man who’d been holding her.

Once out of sight, she stopped in an alley to catch her breath. She examined herself, checking for marks or cuts but she found nothing. The man had grabbed her so hard that her arms were sore; they were surely going to bruise. She reached one hand up to her head and touched her skull. I felt myself hit the ground.

Did the dark-haired gentlemen save her? She couldn’t remember. All she recalled was slamming into the grim cobbles of the lower grounds, but then she was in his arms. It was difficult to even bring his face to mind. She shook her head and started walking again.

Heading towards the bus station, she took out her mobile with an unsteady hand. Her body shook but she managed to search through the contacts. She found Kim and pressed the call button.

‘Hey, Juliet, I’ll be in town soon. I can’t wait to see you!’ a voice on the other end squeaked.

‘I’m heading back to Chanton, I‘m not feeling well.’

‘What? What’s wrong with you?’

‘I feel dizzy. I have a head ache… I’m just not in the mood to shop anymore.’ Juliet lied, but she didn’t want to mention the near miss she’d just had. It all seemed a bit blurry now anyway, she wasn’t sure what had actually happened. She detested lying, but if she told her best friend that she was almost hit by a car, then their conversation would go on for way too long.

‘I never get to see you, as if you’re just going to blow me off like this?’ Kim sounded understandably annoyed.

‘I’m sorry, Kim, but I’m going home. We’ll go shopping soon?’

‘Alright, but you owe me for this,’ Kim mixed up a laugh and a sigh, ‘You’re lucky because I was running late anyway, I haven’t even left my house.’ she laughed some more and said, ‘Call me when you’re feeling better then, love you lots, bye.’

‘See you, love you.’ Juliet hung up. By now she was waiting for the bus back to Chanton to arrive.

While she waited, she tried to collect her thoughts. She noticed that her hands were shaking and her shoulders were brought up high and tense. She closed her eyes for a moment and let the worry dissolve out of her body. I’m okay, the car didn’t hit me.

She looked around the bus station; the place had never impressed her. It looked tawdry, cheap and contemporary: completely clashing with the rest of Amiton town centre, a predominantly Victorian style town with hints of modern concrete buildings.

The lower grounds were over-run by supermarkets and general stores used by the locals, offering nothing much for the tourists. The upper grounds were completely different with a wide range of tourist shops, restaurants, typical high-street brands and a bustling market place.

Although Juliet felt that the high-street stores took away from the character of Amiton, she could ignore that, only because she needed somewhere to shop on Lansin Island. She loved travelling to London or Birmingham to shop when she could, but she found it a nuisance to do often. And anyway, Amiton had a few designer shops blended into the architecture, and although their range of stock wasn’t extensive, it could have been worse.

The bus back was quieter than on the way. It passed through the outskirts of Amiton, towards the north of the island.

The houses on the outskirts were mostly modern builds with a few tiny thatched cottages which could be found dotted across the island as primitive farmhouses. After leaving Amiton, the bus route took narrow roads through open fields and over modest hills.

Juliet had begun to relax by now; she breathed steadily, sunk her posture and soaked up the autumn, looking at groups of auburn-leaved trees.

A flicker appeared in the corner of her right eye. She turned to look out the bus window; nothing was there.

There was a feeling of disconnection in her body; she couldn’t understand it, it was like she wasn’t entirely herself, but instead, she was a part of everything around her; she was part of the bus, the trees, the fields and even a part of each person sat near her. Was it a sense of disconnection or did she feel more connected all of a sudden?

These sensations were new to her, and trying to decipher them proved frustratingly futile. She looked across to a small farmhouse the bus was passing, and in a window, she thought she saw a figure. A dark blur that materialised and swiftly dematerialised.

She wasn’t sure if she even saw it at all now.

She closed her eyes and shook her head, trying to dispel the ferly happenings. What she was seeing simply couldn’t be.

It’s just stress like from witnessing trauma, she rationalised. The bus pulled into Chanton. Juliet walked off unsteadily and titubant in her state of worry. She was home within a few more minutes and into her bed to rest her mind. Sleep engulfed her instantly.

A few hours later, she awoke. The morning was gone, wasted, and she began to pace back and forth. She dug into her mind. Hmmm, something to do, something to do…

Her body distracted her attention; something was not right, she felt like an empty bottle. It didn’t make sense. She stared at her hands but they looked like paws, impersonal and unoccupied. This body wasn’t hers. It couldn’t be.

Breathing through her nose, she observed her senses. The sense of smell was as keen as always, but it was distant, not hers to own. For sight, it was like watching from afar.

She decided to go jogging. The mix of fresh air and exercise would bring back her kinship with her physical body. As she ran and her feet connected with the floor, there was no longer the heavy ache and thud of exercise. Instead, she felt lighter, uninvolved.

The air that used to caress her skin seemed to pass through her completely now. She could still feel it gently press against her, but it was wrong in an unknown way. What is happening to me?

With a return home, she decided to ignore the sensations. Her senses would return to normal of their own accord.

She walked to the downstairs living room in search of her laptop. On the mantelshelf above the fireplace were some pictures. Two were of her mother and father together, two were shots of them separately, and in the centre was a photo of her grandmother.

Her grandmother had died when Juliet was thirteen, and Juliet’s parents now lived in Marbella, Spain. She picked up the picture of her grandmother. She held it lovingly and imagined what her gran would have done if she’d told her about the near miss this morning. She would have held her so tight and kissed at her cheeks repeatedly. Juliet could almost feel her embrace.

Juliet’s parents were all she had now. Her grandparents on her father’s side died before she was born and so did her grandfather on her mother’s side. She had no aunts or uncles on her mother’s branch but on her father’s she had three uncles and one aunt. They were all distant and she never saw them. If she had cousins she didn’t know who they were. For some reason her father wasn’t interested in them and refused to talk about it.

Besides her parents, the only person she had ever considered as family was her grandmother on her mother’s side. The lady in the frame.

She had a beautiful and genuine smile. Perfectly photogenic, and even through the picture, Juliet could see her gran the way she remembered her: a sweet, gentle and selfless women. Juliet closed her eyes hard and wished that her grandmother was alive and here today.

Putting the photo back down, she remembered that her laptop was in the upstairs living room, so she jogged upstairs. She switched it on and did some online shopping.

Afterwards, she filled out her planner for the upcoming week, making certain to add specifics and details so that no time would be wasted when it came to each task. Then she found herself bored.

What to do next? She thought of the new starter at her café. Some training needed addressing.

There was no point in dwelling on the car accident or her strange hallucinations from earlier. How would that help her achieve anything? So she impatiently changed outfit then walked to her café, Chanton Hillview.

As she stepped inside, a fusion of savoury and sweet scents welcomed her. It was like opening the door of a fridge crammed with fresh food; the smell soaked the air. The sounds of the café rated below the fragrance: chinking of cutlery, muffled exchanges, and the gurgling coffee-machine. Juliet’s senses were sharp as normal, but there was still that remote feeling. She smiled at a few regular customers but scooted along to avoid pointless chit-chat. Her team of staff weren’t too surprised to see her and went about their work nonchalantly.

She approached the new starter, Ashleigh, and took her to the office.

‘Hi Juliet, I didn’t know you were in today. I thought you were shopping.’ Ashleigh was sixteen years old, fresh out of school and wanted to get straight into work and earning money. Her bubbly attitude and sweet smile secured her the job. Juliet liked to employ positive, hard-working individuals.

‘My plans changed. Anyway, has Roy done your manual handling training yet?’ the prompt change of subject seemed to unnerve Ashleigh.

‘No he hasn’t.’

‘Okay, well I’ll go through it with you, and we’ll get some other training completed too.’

‘Okay!’ Ashleigh replied exuberantly as if the prospect of mandatory training excited her. She even did a little twirl on the spot. Juliet politely laughed.

Ashleigh had recently moved to Chanton with her parents. They used to live in Cornwall but visited Lansin Island a lot over the years. As soon as Ashleigh had finished secondary school, she and her parents moved to Chanton.

Juliet covered manual handling, food hygiene and fire safety training with her giddy, new employee before she retired to her office to do some paperwork.

The sensation of disconnection was present in her still. In her office, she stared at her hands. She focused intently; she saw her hands as buzzing particles, like she wasn’t so solid after all, like her hands and arms were made of the same material as the desk that she sat at.

A quick shake of the head returned her to the present moment.

Then the room dropped temperature in a brief sweep. Juliet was alone. Glimmers of light shone, barely visible throughout the room; a few streaks danced and hovered, and then vanished, twitching the air.

The desk lamp flickered on, off, on. Tension was a taste in the room; a shrill string instrument could have played a single suspenseful high note. Juliet’s skin prickled as if a spider dashed across it.

Her heart pounded. She refused to believe what she saw and closed her eyes hard. Sounds caught her off guard, distant but also close; in the room with her, maybe footsteps.

Her eyes opened reluctantly. A woman stared directly at her. At least, Juliet thought it was a woman. The figure wasn’t fully there. She strained to see eyes and the outline of the figure, like an aura. It was more like feeling there was a woman in the room than actually seeing her.

Juliet was stuck to her chair, unable to move or speak. Although she couldn’t fully see it, she knew the figure was approaching her. She sensed its arm reach out. It touched her face.

Horror stiffened Juliet’s body, but for her life, she forced out a scream.

The room returned to normal, the lamp stopped flickering, and the temperature rose in an instant. The figure was gone, and Juliet heaved for air, her hands over her burdened heart.

‘Are you okay?’ Roy, the stand in manager, knocked, asked and entered simultaneously. He was alert, ready for some kind of trouble.

‘I’m fine.’

‘You’re fine?’ he asked, his round face incredulous, ‘The whole café heard you scream.’

‘I said I’m fine.’ she reasserted.

Roy relaxed his stance; no one’s life was in danger. ‘What should I tell the team and our customers? It sounded like a bad scream; Ashleigh dropped some one’s order when she heard you. She jumped right out of her skin!’ he laughed a deep grumble, but Juliet could see he was still concerned.

‘Anything, Roy. Make something up. Say everything’s okay, nobody needs to panic.’

‘I’ll say you walked a corner with your head down at the same time Sandra came around the corner and she gave you fright? Yeah. That will do.’

‘Thanks, Roy, I’m going to leave soon. I shouldn’t have come in today.’

‘You’re welcome. Why did you come in?’

‘Shopping fell through, and you know me… I can’t just sit around.’

‘I think you need a hobby; you shouldn’t just work every minute of your life.’ he remarked, stepping on delicate ground.

‘I like to work. This is my café and I like being here.’ she said, it felt like a personal attack. ‘Besides, I have hobbies.’ She had her home-study course, an exercise routine, she was learning Spanish, and she volunteered at a charity shop. Do they count as hobbies?

‘Okay. I was concerned, that’s all. It’s easy to get burnt out when you work too much.’

She gave Roy a prickly stare; she didn’t need her employee questioning her ability to work. There was enough on her mind (her mind that she thought she was losing after the day’s events).

‘Roy, get back to work.’ she said, teeth clenched.

He nodded and offered a concerned, half-smile before he left the office. Juliet gathered her thoughts until she couldn’t stay in the room any longer. She hoped that she wouldn’t permanently fear her office; it was one of her favourite places to be, working or not.

As she left the café, she sensed all eyes on her. She held her chin high, managed appropriate smiles, and expressed confident farewells to her employees and customers.

That evening, she watched the local news: It covered a story on a police chase in Amiton.

The police had followed a vehicle due to suspicious behaviour, and when they signalled the driver to pull over, he’d sped away instead. The pursued driver gained distance by cutting through Amiton upper grounds but he crashed into a business stall, flipped the car and came to a stop. It turned out that the driver was drunk, and in his intoxicated state, he panicked and thought driving through the upper grounds was a good idea. He was treated for a head wound sustained in the crash, but no major injuries.

As Juliet eyed the television screen, she experienced bitterness towards the drunk driver. She’d had the strangest day of her life, and he was to blame.

Chapter 3

‘Stop showing off your perfect white teeth!’ Janet Morgan, one of the full-timers at Creaky Crystals, playfully slapped Nick’s arm. ‘You know I want mine whitened.’

‘What are you on about?’ he rubbed his arm as if it hurt.

‘You’ve been smiling all day; you’re like a walking dental advert.’

‘Should I take that as a compliment…?’

‘Whatever floats your boat, Nick.’ she laughed to herself, ‘You’re an odd boy aren’t you? I’d have wangled the day off if I was almost hit by a car, but you’re having the best day of your life. Odd-ball.’

He was eager to go home after saving the woman’s life, but he wanted to work his hours; or more accurately, he needed to work them.

‘Maybe I’m just happy the car didn’t hit me.’

‘Maybe you’re a strange boy...? Anyway, why were you in the upper grounds? You don’t come from that direction.’ she goggled him suspiciously.

‘I was just looking at the view from up there.’

‘Hmmm, that confirms it: you’re a weirdo.’ Janet stuck out her tongue, then dawdled off towards the jewellery section.

Still smiling, Nick thought about the incident again. He’d given the police a statement but didn’t mention to them about the woman he saved; she’d hurried off, and he didn’t think anyone saw how she was almost killed. Telling lies to the police wasn’t a good idea and he wasn’t sure why he did it, but it was done now and he had a more interesting matter to dwell on.

The rest of the shift dragged, but when it was finally over, he made his way home as if his life depended on it.

There was a lot for him to mull over that night.

Excitement oozed out of him. After having a real ‘flash-forward’ he was infused with a sense of… importance. What did it mean?

He spent that evening thinking about it. Was it a random experience? Is it an ability I could learn to use at will? Am I different, special somehow? If so, are there others like me?  No conclusions were made, but he slept easier that night; feeling like there was purpose to his life.

That weekend, he read through books on Celtic, Classical and Norse mythology. He researched on the internet how to practice psychic powers. He read about oracles, prophets, clairvoyants, seers and shamans. Some people used cards, the roll of a dice, crystal balls or other objects for divination, but he also read about others who saw the future in their dreams or through guided meditation.

It wasn’t wise to be on the internet for too long; if he went over his limit again, he would be charged more again, so he shut down the computer.

Half of the material he found, he had some previous knowledge of because he’d considered becoming a Wiccan before. He already kind of believed in psychic abilities and also that cheesy word: magic. But seeing was different to believing.

He tried to meditate and get into a trance-like state to bring on another vision, but nothing happened. He had a hard time with the whole fate and destiny side to it.

How can I see the future if it isn’t planned out? Or maybe I saw a probable future based on people’s choices? And if everyone had a destined path, then did I change that woman’s fate by saving her?

After a while he gave up trying to force a vision; it was too easy to get carried away and act like he was in a fantasy film.

He tidied his room in a languid and passive manner. He hadn’t corrected it after his tantrum a few days before, but he took his time and didn’t allow it to affect his easy mood.

The detached bungalow he lived in was on Maw Street on the outskirts of Amiton. From the front door, there was a hallway that divided the house down the middle. To the front-left was the snug room where he would sit and read, watch films or play games. To the back-left was the bathroom.

On the front-right was the living room which he rarely used as it served the same purposes as the snug. To the back-right was the bedroom. The hallway joined to the back of the house where the kitchen and back door to the garden could be found.

His dad helped him choose the bungalow and paid a sum towards a deposit; he also assisted in paying the bills occasionally. He never asked for anything in return; maybe he felt good providing for his sons in whatever capacity he could afford, knowing that he could do it without the aid of his wife.

When Nick first moved in, he had a full time job. Now all he could find was part time work; each month was a struggle to pay bills. He’d considered renting out the snug as a bedroom to bring in some money but he didn’t know how to approach that sort of thing. He would have to do some research.

His bedroom was the only decorated room in the house; the rest of his home was in the state he purchased it in. There were bare walls, a few holes in places, he had minimal furniture, and there was just too much DIY to even think about.

It was a few years ago when he moved in and it should have all been in shape by now, but it wasn’t. After his wages were spent on bills and essentials, he never had enough left over to decorate. In the end he gave up; as long as the place was liveable, then what did it matter? There was no one to impress but himself. Luckily, for entertainment, he still had some books and game consoles from when he lived with his dad and brothers.

On Monday he received a phone call from Tom.

‘Nick?’

‘Hi, Tom.’

‘How have you been? You haven’t come to see us lately.’

‘Everything’s good. Yeah I know. I might come by next weekend.’ he capitulated; he supposed he couldn’t avoid visiting them forever.

‘Cool,’ Tom said, and there was a long silence.

‘So, any reason you called me?’ his brothers didn’t call often. They usually got their dad to relay messages.

‘Yeah… I wanted to talk to you about something, but not over the phone.’

‘Okay, well, what about the weekend when I come over?’

‘No, not at Dad’s house either,’ Tom sounded almost guilty, or maybe ashamed.

‘Why not?’

‘I don’t feel comfortable talking about it at home. It’s personal.’

‘You can come over here some time if you like?’ Nick suggested, intrigued. What could be so personal that he can’t even speak to Tommy about it?

‘Thank you, Nick.’

‘That’s alright. It will have to be in a week or two if you can wait? It’s going be busy at work this week.’

‘Yeah, I can wait. Oh, I know. Amiton’s crazy at Halloween.’ Tom sighed.

Lansin Island was the place to be for Halloween, or as some of the locals called it: Samhain.

The entire town was decorated. There were bloated pumpkin-faces, hollow-eyed ghosts, gangly spiders, and frowning skulls; it was a festive overload, like if a child had been given free rein to top their ice cream with sprinkles, Amiton received a Halloween-sprinkles overdose. Public rituals were performed and a play enacting a wild hunt with the lord of the dead, otherworldly beings, fairies and animals. Clairvoyant’s tents were set up where people would pay to know their future. It was mainly aimed at tourists but almost everyone in Amiton and on Lansin Island celebrated Halloween. In the town centre it was normal to wear a costume for the entire day; most shop assistants did, and Mora insisted that her staff had to dress up too. In the evening there were firework displays at Wood Park, and other plays that made use of special lighting effects and fire manipulation: dancing, spinning, twirling.

‘Yeah, it is busy, but I love it!’ Nick said, ‘Thank you for lending me Big Fish by the way, it was good.’

‘That’s alright. So I’ll see you next weekend, bye.’

‘See you.’ and Nick hung up.

He contemplated what costume to wear to work on Halloween. He became distracted when he remembered that ‘the veil between the two worlds’ was supposedly ‘thinnest’ on Halloween, so divination was meant to be easier. He smiled, excited, and became antsy about the idea that he could have another premonition that day.

He spent the rest of the day reading books in the snug; only stopping to use the bathroom, make hot chocolate, and to eat.

The next day at work he spoke with another part-timer, Michael Welding.

‘What are you going to dress as on Monday?’ Nick asked him.

Without a pause, he replied, ‘I’m going to be a vampire.’

‘You were a vampire last year.’

‘Yeah… I like vampires.’

‘So does everyone, apparently.’

‘That’s cause they’re awesome.’ Michael was pretty simple and straight to the point. He was ridiculously good looking.

Nick wasn’t homosexual, but Michael was one of those ‘pretty boys’ and if Nick had to look like anyone else: it would be him. He was eighteen, had mousey coloured hair, pale blue eyes, and his toned body gained definition, and recognition, through the tight tops he wore.

Nick thought he must have been invisible stood next to Michael.

‘Fair enough,’ Nick said, ‘how’s college going?’ Michael was on the same Diploma in Construction college course as Tom and Tommy.

While Nick waited for his colleague to answer, he gazed out the glass front of the store; it rained steadily outside, leaving droplets and trails on the glass.

‘It’s good. We’re doing something about surveying.’ Michael slurred his words. He may have had the face of an angel, but he had the voice of a troll; it screamed out, ‘I’m unintelligent!’

‘Good to hear.’

‘What’re you going to wear Monday, Nick?’ he inquired.

‘I haven’t decided yet.’ and on that answer, the conversation died down. They returned to work.

There wasn’t much to do at Creaky Crystals that Tuesday; even though it was a large store, it was all in order. It was the biggest (and one of the only) tourist shops in the lower grounds. On the front there was a prodigious sign with ‘Creaky Crystals’ etched in cream letters against dark oak.

Mora didn’t need to employ as many people as she did, but Nick gathered that she liked the company, and also it was fairly unpredictable how busy the store would get; sometimes there were waves of customers and then there were long reposes.

Amiton locals were a chatty bunch so at least one staff was usually spent in conversation. The most notorious blabbermouth was Alice Bicker. She was a regular customer, but she wasn’t a Pagan of any variety; she simply loved the stock.

Nick liked Alice, but she had an irritating habit of stringing the most grating phrases together. He once heard her start a sentence with: ‘To be honest, I’m not going to lie, but at the end of the day, the fact of the matter is…’

Urgghhh – painful!
He hadn’t bumped into Alice for a while now, and he wasn’t too bothered by that.

Inside Creaky Crystals there were two tills. They were behind glass counters at opposite ends of the store, in order to get through more sales at once. The stock included crystals, crystal balls, hand-carved ornaments, photo frames, coloured candles, tarot cards, dream-catchers, wands, athames, cauldrons, incense, oils, jewellery, meditation CD’s, cloaks, calendars, gifts and similar items. Though, at this time of year, the items were more Halloween oriented.

Nick assumed that Mora regretted setting up Creaky Crystals in the lower grounds; her income would most likely have doubled in the upper grounds. Nonetheless, she loved her store, and Nick could see that.

Towards the end of his shift, Janet tramped over to him, ‘Have you got a girlfriend yet?’ her eyes so wide.

‘No, Janet, no luck there.’ he answered apathetically.

‘I can set you up with someone, you know?’

‘I’m not looking to date anyone at the moment.’

Janet seemed to have acquired an interest in his love life over the past few months. She was in her thirties and had three kids. Her hair was leathery brown like her eyes, and she had large teeth and gums that you couldn’t ignore when she laughed or smiled. She was of average height, and was close friends with Mora. They were in a coven together which when Nick first had an interest in Wicca, he did some research and Mora invited him to one of their coven meetings to see about initiating him.

In that particular meeting they worshipped ‘the Goddess’ or ‘the Mother’, invited her into their circle and asked for some kind of protection over their family and friends.

Nick didn’t know what to expect before attending, but it turned out that he felt extremely uncomfortable with it. Their Ritual Leader, as the group referred to her, asked Nick if he was on a spiritual journey, if he wanted to devote himself to the study of Wicca and be initiated into their circle. She told him that they initiated people sky clad (in other words, butt naked). He decided against joining; seeing his manager and a co-worker naked wasn’t quite his cup of tea.

The Ritual Leader said it was to show to the Goddess that he wasn’t afraid to be in front of her the way he came into the world, something about being ‘reborn’ naked as he was first born.  He wasn’t ashamed of his naked body but he didn’t want to prove it by stripping off in front of a group either.

There was probably more to it than that and he didn’t like to judge too hastily, but still… no.

‘You know… a man your age should really have a woman by now!’ Janet commented.

‘I’m only twenty four.’

‘Exactly, you should be in a long term relationship, working up to marriage and then having children, else you will be an old daddy.’

He chuckled, ‘I’m only twenty four, and who said I want to have children? I can’t even afford to look after myself.’

‘Well what’s the point of having a girlfriend if you don’t want family?’

‘I never said I wanted a girlfriend. You’re the one pestering me about it!’ his voice raised, but as far as he could tell, she was only winding him up. He hoped.

‘Hmmm, I still don’t think it’s right. You should be at least looking out for that special someone.’ she said with finality and a cheeky smile, then sauntered off.

Nick thought of the woman he saved. He didn’t even know her, never got her name, but she was beautiful. Her face was imprinted in his mind and he felt warmth throughout his body in thought of her.

Before the shift was over, he mulled over asking Michael if he’d noticed anything out of the ordinary with Tom recently, but his conscience stopped him as Tom had made it clear that it was personal. It would have been inconsiderate to arouse suspicion when he obviously didn’t want to share whatever it was with everyone he knew. I’ll just have to wait and find out.

Nick put more effort into his dinner that evening than the usual sling-it-in-the-oven or microwave meal. He had a chicken and mushroom pasta bake with Parmesan cheese. The effort paid off and he dwelled on why he didn’t prepare his own food more often (and came to the conclusion that he couldn’t afford to buy ingredients all the time, that’s why!).

Thursday was approaching, and Nick was due to see Caroline. He was in such a light mood that he considered not going. He even pondered cancelling the therapy sessions altogether, but that would be a bit rash. It was just that he felt so much happier since having a premonition. He knew in his heart that it meant something, but he didn’t know what, yet.

He attempted to meditate again, knowing he was a tad desperate to have another vision. He tried to recall how it happened the first time: He was in Creaky Crystals, lazily and half-heartedly meditating instead of working… and then he was daydreaming. Well, he thought he was, but he was actually seeing the future. Maybe I’m trying too hard this time?

For over an hour he let himself relax, hoping a vision would come to him, but nothing happened.

Then images flashed in front of him: flowers, cobbles, a wall, rain, soggy black hair, pictures, flowers, the lower grounds, flowers, notes, flowers, Creaky Crystals, bouquets of flowers, tears.

There were fleeting sounds, he felt the imagery, sharp but too quick to grasp. There, then gone. Rapid, stinging.

A painful throb entered his skull; he opened his eyes and groaned. He dropped his heavy head into his hands and squeezed both eyes shut as if it would force the splitting headache away.

Arrghh! What the hell was that?

Chapter 4

Juliet Maystone was becoming disconcerted. She had thought that the strange happenings would have stopped by now.

She was wrong.

The night of the incident, an ethereal voice filled her room as she tried to sleep. It sounded like it tried to say something: ‘Allld… Gre…’, ‘Saam… Cr…’, but Juliet smothered her head and ears under a pillow and forced herself to sleep.

The next morning, she dropped her cup of coffee, and the mug smashed when a shadow flittered across the tiled floor of her kitchen. It was as if someone had run past her.

When nothing more happened for the rest of the morning, she returned to her rational and realistic grasp on reality. After thirty minutes on her treadmill, she went house shopping, returned home, then stocked her fridge and freezer. She wasn’t frugal: everything was bought in surfeit, so the refrigerator was crammed. She couldn’t possibly get through all the food alone but at least she had the option of variety.

Being in her empty house kindled loneliness in her. She resolved to call her parents.

The dial tone rang for an age before an answer came.

‘Hello, Juliet Maystone!’ her mother answered, elongating every sound.

‘Hi, Mum.’ she said, and paused, as if waiting for permission to say more.

‘How are you my angel?’ the word ‘angel’ became ‘ayyyngel’.

‘I’m fine, Mum; I was just thinking of you and Dad and thought I would call,’

‘Aw, sweetie, how lovely.’ her mother said mechanically, ‘You’re most welcome to come and visit.’

‘I’ll see when I can.’ Juliet said. Her parents lived in Marbella, Spain. It wasn’t hard to travel there but Juliet liked to keep herself busy, and she had Chanton Hillview to manage.

Mr and Mrs Maystone were one of the first couples to win the UK National Lottery jackpot in 1994. It was a substantial amount of money, so Juliet grew up in wealth, but as soon as she turned eighteen, her parents moved to Marbella. Juliet wanted to stay in Chanton, so her parents bought her the café and gave her their house. They owned and rented property across Spain and had made profits on various investments, so the money didn’t seem to be wearing thin.

‘Well, let us know in advance darling. We’ll pay for everything.’

‘Thank you, Mum.’ Juliet was now twenty five, but when she spoke to her mother she felt reduced to the age of ten. ‘Something happened yesterday, Mum, I was almost hit by a car.’

Juliet’s body relaxed with subtle relief; it was good to tell someone about the incident.

‘One second, Juliet, bear with me.’ the voice disappeared, and Juliet heard her mother talk to someone else in the background. ‘I’m back, sorry, what did you say?’

‘I said I was almost hit by a car. It could have crushed me.’

‘Really? Gosh, sweetie. Well, I’ll get your dad to wire over some money. You go and treat yourself; forget all about it.’ she said in a stolid manner.

‘No, Mum, it doesn’t really matter. I just wanted to talk about it.’ hurt was apparent in her voice.

‘Well, you’re alive aren’t you? That’s all that counts.’ Mrs Maystone said dismissively.

‘Yes, I suppose.’ Juliet held back tears. She mentally told herself to stop being so stupid and self-centred. Why should her mother care?

‘Anyway, sweetie, your dad’s in the swimming pool. I‘ll have to dash. Let us know if you’re going to visit. Kisses, mwah!’

‘Can I say hello to Dad quickly…?’ but Mrs Maystone hung up mid-question.

Fighting off her self-pity, Juliet found a trashy novel to read and placed herself far inside of it.

When her mind drifted back to the phone call, she rationalised that it was childish expecting a reaction from her mother anyway.
Gran would have cared, she thought, Stop it, they do care.

Finding things to do, she sketched up a new layout for the café and fantasised over the thought of redecorating the entire place. She later cleaned the house, worked a shift at a local charity shop she volunteered at, went cycling, read a book on nutrition, ate dinner alone, and had a long bath. The whole time she was alert and half expecting for something seemingly paranormal to happen.

That night passed without anything strange happening. On Sunday, she did some garden keeping and then spent the rest of her day practicing Spanish, and working on an assignment for a Diet and Nutrition home-study course she’d enrolled on a few months ago.

The home-study course was purely out of interest but some of what she’d learnt so far was useful for the café too. Learning Spanish was a practicality so she could have better experiences when visiting her parents.

On Monday morning, she was in the kitchen, filling the kettle with water. Her mind was on the car incident and how lucky she was to be alive. With a smile, she looked up at her reflection in the kitchen window. The only problem was: the reflection she saw wasn’t her own. Somebody else’s face was on Juliet’s body, and it looked back at her.

Throwing herself backwards, she screamed and fell onto the kitchen floor. The impact hurt her wrists, but there was no time for self-pity.

When she stood back up, the reflection was her own again. She touched her face to validate that it was hers. She then rotated her wrists to wrinkle out the pain caused from saving her fall.

As she turned to leave the kitchen, she heard a voice, crystal-clear, ‘Help me.’ it said. A chill prickled down her spine. She ran to her bedroom. She wanted to sob, but what was the point? I can't cry, no. Covering her ears, she waited until her confidence returned. When it did, she decided to seek help.

Remembering someone she’d heard of, she pulled out her laptop and searched on Google: Contact number Tamara Trewin Lansin Island Willow. The website she was looking for appeared. She clicked the link then read the ‘about’ section:

Tamara Trewin, the last living descendent of the famous Lansin Island Witches. Psychic. Medium. Healer. Clairvoyant. She performs psychic readings, dream interpretations, energy healings and more. Party events are considered. Tamara also harnesses the ability to communicate with spirits: your loved ones who have passed on. To book an appointment with Tamara, call the contact number below. Located in Willow, Lansin Island. Directions can be given over the phone.

Juliet squandered no time. She booked an appointment to see the medium, and as if by fate, Tamara had a cancellation for the next day. So Juliet waited.

*

Deciding what to wear for the appointment proved difficult; she checked both of her wardrobes and just couldn’t decide. She felt fragile, and what if the medium wanted her to do some kind of ritual dance or something? What have I got myself into? Having never been superstitious before, she dreaded the appointment and felt completely and utterly embarrassed about booking it in the first place.

There was no denying the phenomena that she’d witnessed; getting to the bottom of it was the most logical step, even if it meant seeking help from unusual sources. Or so she told herself. With that logic firm in mind, she shoved on the most basic clothes she had. After all, there was no one to impress in a little hamlet such as Willow.

A green jumper-style hoody, black skinny jeans and fur-lined boots were sufficient. Not everything she owned was designer. She remembered to grab a pair of gloves on the way out.

Buses to the tiny hamlet of Willow ran only one every hour and a half. Juliet almost wished that she’d purchased a car, but she had little use for one as she lived walking-distance from everywhere in Chanton that she needed to visit, and transport to Amiton town centre would run on a frequent basis.

On arriving in Willow, she remembered the directions she was given: Facing the plaque in front of the white willow tree, follow the path to the left and it’s the second house along.

The houses in Willow were primarily thatched cottages, some newer and larger, built to match the style of the smaller abodes that looked centuries old.

It was a quaint place; picturesque, time moved slower in Willow.

‘Are you lost, love?’ a man’s voice grabbed her attention.

‘No, I’m just getting my bearings, I think it’s this way,’ she pointed.

‘Ah, visiting Tamara?’

‘How did you know?’

‘It’s the only reason any one comes to Willow.’ he said, matter-of-fact.

‘Oh, I suppose it is, yes.’

‘She’s a descendant of The Lansin Island Witches, you know? The ones who were burnt alive. More rightly, a descendant of some of them, you see.’ He shook his head in acknowledgement of the wrong committed on Lansin Island all those years ago.

‘Yes, I read that on the internet.’

‘The internet,’ he snorted, ‘I can’t get my head around this technology.’ He rambled for a while about people’s privacy and how technology would someday bring the end for us all. Juliet nodded along; there was no point in being rude.

‘Yes, I know. It’s terrible.’ she offered. Personally, she loved the internet; it was her favourite way to shop, but she couldn’t expect everyone to have the same opinion.

‘Anyway, I’m holding you up aren’t I? You be sure to tell Tamara I said hello.’ he smiled a pleasant but rotten-toothed smile, ‘My names Peter, she’ll know who you mean.’ he turned and waved.

At this time of year, the white willow tree had lost some of its leaves. It was in the centre of the hamlet and almost thirty metres tall, appearing enormous compared to the little cottages.

The day was cold and the wind nipped at Juliet’s face, but she wanted to read the plaque in front of her:

Legend tells of a Willow tree here in the centre of the hamlet. In the 16th century, the tree was abnormally tall and lived an impossibly long life. It’s said that The Lansin Island Witches worshipped the tree, extending its life and causing it to grow over fifty metres in height. After the horrific witch-burnings on the island, the story tells of the willow tree withering and dying. No evidence has been found to prove or disprove the tale, but this willow tree has been planted here in memory of the legend and in memory of the innocent people who were burnt alive.

Juliet had never cared much for the history of Lansin Island. With the phenomena she’d been experiencing, she contemplated if the legend could have been real; after all, stranger things had happened the past few days than an oversized tree living a long life.

It began to rain steady drops, so she made a move and ducked her face away from the rainfall.

Tamara’s house, to the left, two doors down, looked like the oldest cottage around. It was fairly small but the roof appeared newly re-thatched. Plant pots were dotted about and vines neatly climbed up the walls of the building. The cottage looked loved.

With only two minutes until her appointment start time, she knocked on the door and hoped that she wasn’t disturbing an appointment already in action.

The door opened slowly.

‘Hello, hello. You must be Juliet Maystone. Please come in.’

‘Hello. Yes, that’s me.’ she confirmed as Tamara directed her inside.

‘I’m Tamara, it’s wonderful to meet you. Come take a seat.’

The room they were in had a low ceiling, wooden furniture and a floral rug in the centre. The rug seemed old, not tatty, but the design was outdated. Juliet thought of the word ‘hovel’ as she gazed about herself; though the room wasn’t unpleasant in the slightest, just small, confined.

An open fireplace was to the far side of the room; it was lit, and it warmly clothed the room. It was cosy enough for Juliet’s standards, although she could imagine the entire place going up in flames with its thatched roof and all.

‘I just bumped into... Peter? He said hello and that you’d know him.’

‘Peter’s a conspiracy nut; he didn’t ramble for too long did he?’ Tamara asked.

‘No, just a little.’

Juliet sat down across from Tamara after being offered a hot drink but kindly refusing. She noticed a large chest in the corner of the room, and next to it was a broomstick. The chest looked hand carved with an intricately detailed pattern of flowers and leaves.

She got a picture in her head of Tamara flying on the broomstick, but quickly batted away the image, condemning herself for being so childish and for getting into this situation in the first place.

‘So why did you come today?’ asked Tamara, ‘You didn’t give any information when you booked. I haven’t prepared like I usually would.’

‘Sorry, I didn’t know how to say it over the phone.’ she started, ‘And I don’t know what you can do to help. I’ve never done anything like this before.’

She noticed for the first time what Tamara wore. She had on a dark purple robe that covered her whole body. It didn’t look as ridiculous as Juliet would have expected but it did clash hideously with Tamara’s orange hair.

‘Do you believe I can help you?’ Tamara asked.

‘I don’t know.’

‘You don’t seem to know a lot.’

‘Well I know that a week ago, I wouldn’t even have thought of coming here.’ she replied, then realised how curt she sounded.

‘Do you not believe in the work I do then?’ Tamara’s voice was raw like a sound from the earth itself, grindingly natural, and real.

‘Not really… no.’ Juliet winced. None of this matched her frame of reference.

‘Please leave then. I can’t help you.’ Tamara glided to the front door and held it open. Juliet rose proudly to leave but as she reached the front door she expelled a heavy breath and began to cry.

‘Are you okay?’ Tamara closed the front door and turned to her guest.

‘This isn’t like me. I never cry like this. It’s not that I don’t believe in the work you do. It’s just that I’ve never experienced anything like this before. I’ve had a horrible week. I’ve been seeing things that aren’t really there, that aren’t possible. I need your help… please.’

‘How do you know these things aren’t actually there?’

‘I don’t know, but strange things keep happening and I want it to stop.’ Juliet said, frustrated; she hoped to avoid any other cryptic responses.

‘Come sit back down and you can tell me the whole story. But first, let me tell you a little about me.’

They sat at opposite sides of the room, facing each other, and the fire glowed behind Tamara; it silhouetted her body.

Juliet used her gloved hands to dab her tears. She quickly recomposed herself and pushed her blonde hair out the view of her eyes.

Tamara’s eyebrows squeezed together. She looked down at the floor and rubbed her hands together awkwardly. Then she peered about herself in an eerie manner as if she saw through the walls and was viewing the entire hamlet in one sweep.

‘Do you know the history of this island?’ she asked.

‘I know what I learnt at school. It’s impossible not to know anything about it when you live here.’

‘Yes, but do you know the real history?’

‘Is what I learnt at school not the real history?’ Juliet’s eyebrows lifted.

‘Of course it’s not. I know the truth about my ancestors.’ Tamara’s voice compressed with a serrated sound, ‘I’m the only living descendant left. My sister died ten years ago and I have no other family.’

‘I’m sorry to hear that.’

‘Do you know what the witches were capable of, my ancestors who lived here before they were burnt? They were powerful. They worshipped a willow tree in the centre of this hamlet and it flourished with their magic. They helped crops grow, they controlled the weather, they healed the sick and the wounded,’ frantically, she picked up pace, ‘they communed with the dead, they communed with the animals, they spiritually travelled between this world and the Otherworld. You come here, and you say you don’t believe in the work I do. In the gifts that have been passed down to me in my blood, the gifts that I’ve practiced with my whole life. You can’t be helped, if you don’t believe.’

‘I believe you know your… trade.’ Juliet said, and regretted her choice of words.

‘But you don’t believe the history of my ancestors, the real history of Lansin Island?’

‘It’s just not the history we were taught.’

‘You were taught wrong.’

Juliet ignored the medium for a moment and thought about the history she was taught in school. She’d never liked history; it had no practical use in her mind so she paid little attention. But you’d have to walk around covering your eyes and ears your whole life to not know about the witch burnings. It was the tourist attraction on the island: The Burning Grounds, the nearly five-hundred-year-old weathered courtyard of stone platforms.

From what she remembered, in 1542, King Henry VIII introduced a Witchcraft Act declaring it a crime punishable by death to practice witchcraft. That included sorcery, enchantments, conjuring sprites, or invoking any spells that could manipulate others, cause harm or for acquiring money.

She knew that the population of Lansin Island at that time was roughly eight hundred people, but she didn’t like to think about the rest of the story. One reason that she didn’t pay attention in history lessons was because it frightened her at that age, knowing what happened in the centre of the island.

When the islanders heard of the Witchcraft Act, paranoia spread and a group of women in Willow were accused of casting spells to destroy crops and livestock. They supposedly sacrificed animals and engaged in devil worship and orgies. The women of Willow, many other females and a few men across the island were rounded up: a total of one hundred and forty three. Over the course of five days they were burnt alive, thirty at a time, before it was put to a stop.

There were no trials. The island people took it into their own hands. They used cattle to bring rock from the hills to build platforms. Wooden platforms would have done the job, but in their hate, their fear, their anger and in their pure paranoia they built thirty platforms of stone. Maybe they expected an on-going witch crisis; stone platforms were reusable and only needed to be built once.

Each platform was made circular with a hole in the middle to support the stake, and each wide enough to tie the witch and pile wood and hay around her, or him.

As far as Juliet could remember, it was the worst case of witch burnings recorded in the history of Britain; maybe even Europe.

To try to get the appointment back on track, Juliet smiled and said, ‘Maybe we were taught wrong then. I’ll have to think more about it in my own time.’

‘You will.’ Tamara was frank in tone.

‘So, are you a Wiccan? Or… erm, a different type of… Pagan is it? I don’t mean to be ignorant. I don’t know a lot about the subject so I’m asking out of curiosity.’

‘No, I’m not religious. There’s no magic in religion.’

That’s a bit harsh, was Juliet’s initial thought, but she didn’t exactly disagree. She wasn’t religious herself.

‘Okay, but don’t Wiccans practice the sort of things you do?’ she didn’t want to say aloud the type of ‘things’ she meant.

‘I’m a witch. Witches practice witchcraft; we use magic. Some witches follow a religion or they are on spiritual journeys or both or whatever they want to tell you. I don’t agree with their ways. Magic shouldn’t be doused by all that nonsense.’ Tamara came across ardent in her opinion; the final sentence had an impatient tone to it, like the way a master annoyed at their apprentice who incessantly failed would sound, having to tell them what to do again and again.

‘Why do you call yourself a medium or a psychic or a clair...’ Juliet stopped, unable to recall the word.

‘A clairvoyant? They are some of my skills that are listed on my website. Most people feel more comfortable calling me a medium rather than a witch.’

‘That’s understandable. I’m sorry to ask so many questions, but what is a Pagan then?’

‘Pagans follow an earth-based religion, like the people of the Wiccan faith for example, but there are many other Pagan religions besides Wicca.’

‘Okay, I think I’ve grasped it. Thank you for that.’ Juliet nodded to show her appreciation.

‘Now, tell me your story. Tell me why you’re here.’

Juliet started at the beginning: the incident in Amiton upper grounds when the car almost hit her, and then she covered the impossible things she’d seen over the past few days. She told her about the kitchen incident where she thought she actually heard something say, ‘Help me.’

As she told the story, she tried to place Tamara’s age. Her face looked proud and smooth, the way she moved was sprightly, and her hair was a vivid orange colour; but she came across as someone in her late sixties. Juliet couldn’t tell what gave away her age, but something did.

Once the story was told, Tamara sat still for a while. She seemed to be in deep thought, her eyes were aimed at her lap. She looked up sharply and said, ‘I think I know what’s happening to you. Give me your hands please.’

Juliet took off her gloves and placed them down. She stretched out her hands towards Tamara who took them slowly into her own. Tamara used one hand to scan over Juliet’s palms, as if trying to sense the heat they radiated or their energy. Some thought was definitely going through Tamara’s mind, and she raised one hand to Juliet’s face, with the same movements, scanning it as if her hand was a metal detector searching for treasure inside of Juliet’s head.

‘You’re different.’ Tamara said. ‘I don’t know what you are, but you’re different.’

Juliet laughed hard, and aloud. She couldn’t help it; this was just too rich.

‘I’m not paying for you to put on a show. I thought you could help me.’ she moved back to her seat and put her gloves back on.

‘It’s not a show. No one like you has ever come to me before.’

‘What do you mean - like me?’ she asked, annoyed for being foolish enough to believe this woman could help.

‘What did you feel when the car almost hit you?’

Juliet paused.

She remembered what she felt. She felt herself go over the edge, she felt herself die. It was so vivid, but then she opened her eyes to that dark-haired guy holding onto her.

‘What does it matter?’ she asked.

‘You felt something didn’t you?’

‘I felt the car hit me. I saw myself fall and die. But here I am. Not dead. I obviously imagined it. So what does it matter?’ impatient to leave, she spoke abruptly.

‘You were meant to die.’

‘What?’

‘You were meant to die, Juliet, and in fact… you kind of did die.’ Tamara’s tone was serious; so much so that Juliet found herself considering the crazy notion. She recalled how she felt on the bus: disconnected, like she was there but also somewhere else.

‘That doesn’t even make sense.’

‘I will put it simply for you. Life is varied; some people have a fate, and other people don’t. Your fate was to die that day but someone saved you.’ she spoke the way a school teacher would to a child, ‘When you were pulled out the way of the car, you were physically saved. But you spiritually died. You are displaced, Juliet. Your soul is in the Otherworld but your body is here.’

Dumfounded, Juliet didn’t reply. She reminded herself that she was an educated woman, she owned a café, she was business-minded, fairly successful, and that there was a real world where none of this poppycock existed. And on that conclusion, she reached into her pocket, took forty pounds out of her purse, then passed it to ‘the witch’.

‘Here’s your money. Thank you for the theatrics but I have real things I need to get back to.’ she turned to leave.

‘No wait, Juliet, listen please. You are seeing spirits and ghosts because you are anchored in two worlds. The Spiritworld lies in between our world and the Otherworld. Because you are in both you can see what’s in between. If you heard a spirit say to you, “Help me”, like you said you did, then you’re not in danger. It wants your help. It won’t leave you alone until you help it.’

Realising that Tamara still hadn’t changed the record, Juliet continued to exit the room. She opened the front door, but before she walked out she heard Tamara shout to her.

‘Halloween will be a vulnerable day for you, Juliet. The Spiritworld can be unpredictable that day. Be prepar...’ Juliet slammed the door. The wooden bang rolled through the tiny hamlet, an anomaly in the tranquil setting. She walked doggedly back to the bus stop.

At the risk of looking insane, she laughed to herself. What a waste of time. She’d never heard anything so ridiculous in her life. My fate to die. Yeah, right, so why I am alive?

The Willow bus stop didn’t even warrant a shelter from the rain, so all Juliet could do was stand there getting wetter and colder. Once the bus arrived and she was settled on-board, she pulled out her mobile to search the internet for inspiration on new décor for the café. She didn’t want the whole journey to be a complete waste of time.

She was annoyed to be soaking wet, and she wished that she’d slammed Tamara’s front door a bit harder. That’s childish. It doesn’t matter anymore. She’s just a crazy old woman.

A few wallpaper designs piqued her interest so she ‘bookmarked’ the website pages on her mobile web browser. Then she text Kim, to apologise again for cancelling on Friday.

Feeling welcomed back to the real world, she went through a mental checklist of some to-do’s for the café for the remainder of the journey.

The night was spent making paella for dinner and then later she relaxed in the bath with a bottle of wine. It was what she needed all along; a simple bit of relaxation to calm her panicked mind after the near-death experience. Not a load of voodoo garbage or ghost talk. It was normal to have a few nightmares or hallucinations after a stressful experience. But it wasn’t normal to think that ‘spirits’ or ‘ghosts’ were seeking your help.

Okay, that’s that figured out. I can forget this whole embarrassing episode and never bring it up again, ever.

Reassurance of mind equalled an easy sleep that night.

Chapter 5

Thursday was here and it had been a busy week at Creaky Crystals. Nick was only contracted twelve hours a week but Mora had given him overtime due to the Halloween buzz. Overtime was always welcome, but he had every Thursday down as not-flexible-to-work, and Mora knew that he saw Caroline that day.

The morning drizzled; he stood watching faint raindrops meet a formed puddle on the garden patio.

He smiled from inside the kitchen, a big grin that stretched over his face. To others, the weather might have seemed gloomy, but Nick loved the way that light rain hushed the world. The air was fresh, the sky practically colourless, and everything was simple.

He took the time to put on some rainwear then stepped out onto the patio. There were sycamore trees in the back garden like the ones in the front. They were almost leafless: only a few of the strong-willed hung on. He looked up at the towering trees and remembered why he loved them. He adored their star-shaped leaves. They reminded him of the animated 1988 film, one of his childhood favourites, The Land Before Time.

Whatever the season, those leaves were intensely colourful; red, brown, yellow, green. The winged sycamore seeds were a joy as a youngster; he’d throw them in the air and watch them spiral down, mimicking the dramatic way a helicopter would crash in a film.

He purposefully drew in a deep breath. The smell of autumn; he cherished it. It was his favourite season, along with spring. The smell was mellowed with the crisp air of the rain, but nevertheless a pleasure to his senses.

He dawdled back inside the bungalow and got ready for his appointment with Caroline.

No premonitions had come his way since that first one. And those painful flashes, well, he didn’t know what to think about those, but he was sure that it was just a matter of time or practice to gain control of his ability. He refused to believe that it was just a random blip. A voice inside of him insisted that it meant something more. It must. He thought about it for longer and remembered a story his mum had told him when he was younger. She’d said that her mother, Nick’s grandmother, had a dream only a couple of weeks before she passed on.

In her dream she supposedly saw how she was going to die. She was already taken ill, but she knew exactly when and how it would happen. Parents told exaggerated stories to their kids all the time, so there was no reason for Nick to believe it. Also, his gran was on a lot of medication; she might not have been ‘all there’ in her mind. But maybe there was some truth to it.

He wished he could ask his mum.

His grandmother had died while his mother was pregnant carrying him. Some people believed that trauma during pregnancy could result in the baby having a birth mark. He didn’t know if that was true or not, but he sure did have a birth mark. It was on his left side, roughly six inches below the armpit, towards the bottom of his ribcage; a humble light-brown oval.

His mother used to tell him that it was his gran’s way of living on. As a birthmark?!

When he arrived at the surgery, and Caroline let him into the session room, he was full of vigour.

‘Hello, Caroline!’ he beamed at her.

‘Well, hello, Nicolas,’ she replied with appropriate reciprocation. She gestured for him to take a seat, and he did, sitting up straight and smiling. Caroline looked almost awkward for a second on how to proceed.

‘You look very happy,’ she said simply.

‘I am, it’s been a good week, Halloween is approaching, and I love this time of year.’

‘It shows. Have there been any changes this week?’ she asked.

He thought for a moment, realising that Caroline might feel a bit blustered by his sudden, nascent joy.

‘I saved a woman last Friday. Did you hear about the car chase? The driver went through the upper grounds. I was on my way to work and I pulled a woman out the way of the vehicle just as it was about to hit her.’

‘I did see about that on the news but they didn’t mention that part.’ her response was calm. Nick remembered that he’d concealed the part about the woman being there from the police.

‘The woman seemed scared and she ran off before the police arrived, so they didn’t know about it.’

Caroline simply nodded. So he continued.

‘But anyway, I’ve been in a good mood since. I’ve never done anything like that before. The woman didn’t stop to say thank you or anything, but I feel good that I saved someone’s life, even if no one else knows about it,’ rambling, he forgot to breathe and had to stop.

‘I bet it’s a nice feeling?’ she explored further.

‘It is. It’s like nothing else.’

The real thing on his mind was the premonition but there was no way he was going to mention that to Caroline. He doubted that she would, but he didn’t want to risk the chance of his therapist thinking he was crazy, rather than just someone who got depressed from time to time. He didn’t want to attend therapy forever.

‘It’s nice seeing you smile,’ she commented and smiled back at him.

‘It feels good.’

‘We spoke about confronting your dad last time. About the awkwardness you feel around him… whether it was worth talking to him about it or not?’

At mention of his father, his chest tightened with a slight drop in mood, but not for long.

‘It doesn’t seem as pressing this week as it did last session,’ he told her, ‘I’m going over my dad’s this weekend or maybe next weekend, so I’ll see what it’s like.’

Caroline smiled again and waited. Nick realised that in his elevated mood, he’d been gesticulating like a mad man. He let out a breath that portrayed: ‘Okay, I’m calm and centred now.’

The remainder of the appointment was pleasant. He noticed that it transformed from a therapy session with a sense of direction into a genial chit-chat with Caroline. She probably thought it was okay to chit-chat, seeing as: one, she was being paid for it, two, Nick felt happy, and three, he’d explored his thoughts and feelings a fair bit. Isn’t that the end goal of seeing a therapist?

When he returned home, he spent the afternoon and evening in the snug. Books he’d read throughout the week were scattered across the room; it looked like the home of an untidy bibliophile.

He picked one up and started reading it. His brain was crammed with mythology and he was growing bored of books on psychic powers. He’d practiced all of what they said but nothing worked. So the book he picked up was a novel he’d been meaning to get around to: Carrie by Stephen King. Yeah, it was about a girl with a psychic gift, telekinesis, but that wasn’t why he chose it. At least, not the only reason he picked it. Concentration wasn’t on his side; he’d read almost half of the book in one sitting but failed to grasp much of the story.

What’s the matter with me?
He was happy but his mind seemed to want to be somewhere else.

It was getting late. Feeling stupid about reading the book in some kind of zombie trance, he had a snack of food and then went to bed.

Sleep didn’t come. His mind squirmed about, active; he felt a strong need to tell someone about the premonition. But who could he tell?

Fin.

He was Nick’s best friend. They didn’t see each other much nowadays, but he was sure that Fin would spare some time for him. Fin’s full name was actually Fintan Evergreen. Ha! But he went by Fin.

Nick could also tell Alex Campbell, but there would always be that divide between them. They were friends but no longer best friends. He couldn’t trust Alex. At least not the way he trusted Fin.

It took a while to load the computer. He signed into his Facebook profile. He was embarrassed to see that there were ‘Happy birthday’ comments at the top of his profile, even though his birthday was nine months ago. Most comments were from people he didn’t even know.

There were no other recent notifications apart from ‘game requests’ and event invites from yet more people he wasn’t familiar with.

I’m so popular it hurts, he thought, then had to laugh at himself.

He clicked on Messages, New Message and typed:

Hey Fin, how are you?

I haven’t seen you in ages. I miss you! Did you want to come over sometime soon and just hang out?

Watch some crappy films and play Xbox like we used to? We can order some junk food and stuff and talk about old times?

I hope you’re doing well.

A click on send, and that was that. Sleep came easier with the new prospect of having someone to share his secret with.

*

Deirdre’s was a café in Amiton. It was a quiet place because it was out of the way, down a small street with a couple of barbers and gift shops. It was the kind of place that you could only find if you already knew it was there.

Mora put Nick’s lunch break at the same time as hers on Friday, so they went to Deirdre’s together. She left Janet Morgan in charge of the store for the hour with the help of Michael and another colleague, Alan.

‘So, Nicolas, spill the beans,’ she said, after she ordered them both cheese and tomato toasties and a pot of tea.

He was taken back; what was she expecting?

‘Spill the beans on what?’

‘You’ve been grinning all week… it’s not like you.’

‘Ha, thanks Mora. I didn’t realise that I’m usually such a grump.’

‘No, you’re not a grump, but it’s easy to see that you’re happier than usual,’ she said, ‘your whole vibe is different.’

What does that even mean?
He hadn’t realised he was giving off a vibe; I better stay alert and try not to revert back to the grump-vibe. When he didn’t reply, Mora continued with her assault.

‘It’s a woman isn’t it?’ she asked.

‘Oh, Mora, not you as well? Janet’s been bugging me all week, saying I need a woman, blah, blah, blah.’

‘I’m not saying that, I’m just asking.’ she laughed at his over-the-top reaction. Their order was brought to the table by a woman with curly auburn hair.

Deirdre’s, like the rest of Amiton, was decorated for Halloween.

A hanging skeleton was at the window, posed to greet customers, and a row of ominous pumpkin-faces were huddled below. Creeping up the walls were black vines, and splatted in the corners of the ceiling were streaked white cobwebs. The tables were draped with transparent cloth, each torn and decadent.

It was warm inside, with an intermittent draft from customers entering or leaving.

Mora didn’t ask questions while they ate but she regularly smiled at Nick and looked at him with suspicious green eyes, as if to say, ‘What are you like, eh?’

After they’d eaten their toasties, they sipped tea and continued the conversation.

‘I know what it is. You’ve been different since that Friday. When you were late to work after that car chase.’ she said, acting like a light bulb flicked on over her head. ‘You like the drama don’t you? A bit of action! You young ones love it.’ she didn’t just laugh at her own conclusion; she was in stitches like it was the funniest thing she could have said.

Her dead-looking yellowy-white complexion even turned red for a moment in her fits of laughter. She’d given him an easy way out of the interrogation at least, and he took it.

‘You caught me out. It was exciting. The car almost hit me. I’ve never felt a rush like that before.’ he said.

‘You’re one of them adrenaline junkies; next you’ll be skydiving.’ she calmed down and coughed away the last of her giggles.

Nick thought about it. The incident hadn’t affected him in that way because it was like the second time he was seeing it. He knew he had to act, and he supposed adrenaline must have coursed through his body to get him up the steps in time, but when he actually reached the top, it all happened so quickly. He felt no excitement from the action itself. He was proud of himself for saving the woman, but the real excitement was in knowing that he’d had a vision.

If it had been a normal incident, with no vision involved, would he have come away from it feeling indifferent and numb inside? Is that how empty my life was before I had the premonition?

‘Nicolas,’ Mora said, ‘more of our stock has gone missing this week. Have you noticed anything?’

‘No, have you asked everyone else to keep an eye out too?’ he felt disbelief creep up inside of him, ‘God, it annoys me the way people think they can just steal.’ his shoulders tensed, aggravated. He was raised to respect other people and their belongings; the thought of thieving repelled his senses.

‘Yes, I’ve asked everyone to keep watch. You make me laugh, Nicolas, you always curse in God’s name!’ she remarked with a playful shake of her head.

It was true; he regularly used God’s name in vain, but if he was around other people and he knew it offended them then he wouldn’t do it. He’d hate to upset someone. He wasn’t religious but somewhere along the line he’d acquired the habit of misusing His name.

‘Sorry, it’s just a habit.’ he shrugged.

‘I don’t mind, not really. He’s not my god.’ she laughed. Nick liked that Mora rarely mentioned her religious or spiritual beliefs. She wasn’t like Janet who often slipped in praise to the Goddess mid-conversation or blabbed about the rituals and spells she performed. Mora seemed humble in her faith; Nick admired that.

He narrowed back down to the more pressing matter, ‘So now everyone knows that stock is going missing then?’

‘Yes, and I trust all of you, of course, but we have to be more careful when tagging valuable items.’ she gave a drained smile.

‘What’s been stolen?’

‘Some of our jewellery this time. I’m sure of it.’

He tried to think whose week it was to check the security tags in the jewellery section. Mora assigned each staff an area of the store to check for security tags every week then rotated turns, but because they all knew each other well, they swapped areas and helped out as they pleased.

‘Whose turn was it to tag-check that section?’ he asked.

‘Michael’s, I think.’

‘What about the other week, when the tarot cards were stolen?’

‘That was Alan’s section that week.’

‘Do you think it could be one of us stealing?’ He regretted asking already, but continued anyway, ‘De-tagging items on purpose for our friends to steal or something? Some of our items sell for a lot of money don’t they? Like the geodes. Well, most of it’s expensive because of the tourist factor and that makes it easy to sell too, and if someone is stealing and selling it often enough then that’s a nice bonus they are giving themselves.’

Mora shifted in her chair and squeezed her eyes into a frown, ‘No, no, no… Nicolas, it couldn’t be that. I know all of you too well. I’d never suspect any of you. We simply need to double-check our security tags. There are opportunists out there.’

‘Yeah,’ Nick nodded, ‘I only suggested it because I knew you would never think that of us. And anyway, people buy de-tagging equipment online these days.’

‘Bloody thieves.’ she giggled.

She picked up a newspaper from the unoccupied table next to her. She shook her head and frowned at the page she was on. ‘These poor parents, their kid went missing a couple of years ago and they are still looking for answers. Do you remember?’

‘What was the girl’s name?

‘Katie Baker.’

‘Yeah, I remember hearing about it.’ In fact, there’d been a similar case on Lansin Island about ten years before. A young boy had disappeared. Nick remembered that one because it was a couple of years before his mum vanished. ‘So she hasn’t been found yet then?’ he asked.

‘No. You’d think that with all the supposed psychics on this island, at least some one would be able to find something out! It’s not exactly a massive island.’ she exclaimed.

‘She could have been taken off the island, or who knows what?’ he didn’t want to think about it.

‘You know, Nicolas, there have been a few cases of children disappearing on this island. I’m almost fifty now but I remember at least three or four cases. Maybe the island is really a giant beast that eats people up?’ she laughed, but unfortunately this was one of the very few times that she didn’t think before she spoke.

Nick tried to laugh at her joke but it came out miserable. Mora must have realised the parallels between the story of the missing child and the disappearance of Nick’s mum.

‘Oh… Nicolas. I’m sorry, I didn’t think.’ she said.

‘It’s okay, Mora. I don’t think my mum’s dead anyway. I think she just wanted a different life. She took out a few thousand pounds before she disappeared. It’s pretty obvious she just wanted to get away from my dad… and my brothers and I.’ he hadn’t spoken to anyone but Caroline about it for a few years now; it was one of them subjects you just didn’t bring up unless someone directly asked.

‘Well, I hope you don’t mind me saying… but she’s missing out. If you were my son, I wouldn’t ever think of up-and-leaving like that.’

Tears could have formed in his eyes, but he graciously let himself feel good instead. Mora didn’t have a partner or children, so Creaky Crystals and the staff were probably all the family she had.

Nick said, ‘Thanks, that’s a nice thing to say.’

Mora smiled at him. They had time for another cup of tea each before they returned to work.

Nick couldn’t help but think about Katie Baker’s parents. He felt sorry for them; he knew what it felt like to be left in the dark like that, not knowing if someone you cared about was alive or not. But he couldn’t know what it felt like for a parent to lose their child.

When he returned home, he eagerly checked his Facebook messages. Fin had replied:

Alright buddy? I’m great man.

I’m so sorry mate but I’m mega busy at the moment. I’ve got a new contract in London. I’ll be travelling there a lot over the next few weeks.

I’m earning some proper money now! If I’ve got time I’ll pop into that crystal place you work at and see you or something?

Anyway, I thought you had my number. Text me next time.

See you when I see you mate.

At the bottom of the message, Fin provided his mobile number in case Nick had lost it, which he had (along with his previous mobile phone when he placed it on a shop counter then forgot to pick it up when he left the store).

Fintan’s reply wasn’t what he’d hoped for. He didn’t blame his friend; he was happy for him. Maybe a tad jealous too, but all he wanted was to tell someone about the premonition; someone he could trust.

Oh, well.

Before retiring to bed, he decided to do something he’d never done before: say a prayer.

He didn’t know who he was praying to or how to start, so he sat up in bed, modestly, and said a prayer for Mr and Mrs Baker, wishing them happiness, and for the missing girl, Katie Baker, asking for her safe return, even though it’d been two years now since she vanished.

Then he was cold and in pain.

*

Grit pressed into his face. Spit hocked out of his mouth. Sudden pain hit his back, repeatedly, it dug into him. He curled up and covered his head to protect it from the blows.

He looked down at his stomach and saw a foot kick into it. He made a puking sound and groaned in agony.

‘Stop!’ a woman screamed.

The kicks went on and he tried desperately to squeeze into a ball shape to defend himself. Hard shoes connected with his shins, back and arms. He didn’t dare to look up and see the attackers; they would only kick his face if he did.

He writhed on the bitter ground and closed his eyes, wishing for it to stop. He went to shout something.

*

‘Help!’ his body convulsed, he sat up in his bed.

He opened his eyes and looked down at his hands that were in a prayer pose. Oh, crap. Shaking his head, he hurried out of bed and to the kitchen. The floor was like ice on his bare feet, so he shuffled in an attempt to warm them. He ran some water from the tap into a glass and gulped down the liquid.

Why would anyone want to beat me up? It was so vivid. Another vision? He brought up a hand to rest his forehead against the palm; his fingers tangled in his fringe.

When he was at school, he’d gotten into occasional scraps; most boys scuffled with other kids at some point during school. But he’d never brawled with anyone as an adult. So why did he see himself being kicked repeatedly?

When he returned to bed, he struggled to relax. So that’s what I get for praying: a vision of me getting beaten up? Or maybe even killed if they continued!  He closed his eyes, decided never to pray again and waited for sleep.

Chapter 6

Juliet woke on Wednesday. She inhaled deeply and thought, No nonsense today. She jumped out of bed and sped about her morning routine.

With scarcely any customers due to Halloween approaching and everyone celebrating in Amiton, Chanton Hillview café was quiet. It allowed freedom for Juliet to move furniture around and visualise the intended new décor.

She’d been considering creating a feature wall with striking wallpaper, and in her mind it looked good, but when she stood and looked at her café… she couldn’t picture it anymore.

The café already had its feature: an entire glass wall that looked out at the view of the hills. It was the whole selling point of the Chanton Hillview. It was in the name. But something had to change; this décor was a mistake, like the previous design was too.

An idea struck her. She would strip the place down. Make it as minimal as possible; let nothing unnecessarily distract customers from the view. The wall art, the ornaments and even the patterned furniture all conflicted too much.

She couldn’t see how she’d never realised it before. It was like going to the cinema with a date, trying to appreciate the film but becoming distracted by how attractive your date is and how much you want to hold their hand: one of the views had to suffer and in turn lessen the overall experience. You end up leaving the cinema unable to even recall the plot of the film.

From now on she didn’t want anyone coming to Chanton Hillview and being anything less than mesmerized by the view.

Simple but stylish furniture, modest colours, contemporary and unobtrusive wall art (if any), and minimum ornaments. Sometimes less was better.

In her office, she finalised the plans and called Roy in to speak with her. Roy, smartly groomed as always, appeared in the doorway, ‘Yes, Juliet?’

‘The café will be closed on Monday. It’s Halloween so everyone will be in Amiton. It’s not worth staying open.’

‘Okay.’

‘But I’d like you to come in that day. I’ll give you money for materials and if you can, I’d like you to start decorating the café.’ she said, with a sly smile.

‘We are redecorating again?’ he asked excitedly.

‘Yes, I’m bored of it, it’s tacky. I want to modernise it. Make it simple, sleek and stylish. I want the view of the hills to truly be the focal point that it should be.’

‘I like that idea.’ he nodded.

‘I’ve picked the furniture I want; I just need you to purchase it. If anybody wants what we have now, take it. It will only go to the skip otherwise. All wall art is to go, everything is to go. Ashleigh and Sandra can take whatever they want, and they can come in to help you too. In fact, we will close for the entire week and anything you feel uncomfortable doing, just call a handy man or whatever. I’m leaving you in charge, Roy. Here’s how I want it to look.’

She went over all of her ideas with Roy, showing him sketches of a new layout. When she was satisfied that he had the correct picture in his mind, she smiled, and enjoyed a sense of relief.

‘What’s the budget?’ asked Roy.

‘Don’t worry about that. I’ll leave you with enough to buy the materials and extras and to pay labourers if you need them.’

She didn’t care about the money; Chanton Hillview was her hobby, her passion.

Roy smiled and rubbed his hands together, and Juliet laughed in amusement. He was a big man, round faced, and had a massive smile. Originally from Zimbabwe, his surname was Dube but Juliet had a feeling that his first name might not have been Roy. Maybe it was, but she didn’t know enough about Zimbabwean names to pass judgement.

His accent was strong but he spoke English fluently. He’d lived in London for ten years before he moved to Chanton.

He was an excellent cook and he’d learnt a lot from his wife. He’d told Juliet that in Zimbabwe, most women learn how to cook from a young age (though maybe not all to Gordon Ramsay’s standards) and it was usual for the women to cook for the men, but when he moved to England with his wife, he asked her to teach him and found he had a real passion for it.

While enrolled on a cookery course, he found a job as a chef in London; but after ten years of it he wanted a slower pace of work. Cooking non-stop became tedious and he desired more interaction with customers; the Chanton Hillview turned out to be the perfect balance for him.

Juliet wrapped up the plans with Roy, headed home and let the remainder of the week unfold.

She felt so much better by Sunday.

Nothing even remotely strange had happened to her since seeing Tamara. She’d confirmed in her mind that it was purely stress, related to the car incident.

But the next day was Halloween. Tamara’s words itched in her mind. The Spiritworld can be unpredictable that day. Halloween will be a vulnerable day for you. Juliet had a restless night, anxious, but also annoyed at herself for letting it get to her.

Halloween, she woke and instantly busied herself.

Just have to get past today, then I’ll be confident that Tamara was wrong, a complete fraud.

Kim had invited Juliet into Amiton to see the celebrations but Juliet had replied that she would rather die of boredom than waste her time celebrating Halloween of all things.

She prepared herself a full English breakfast. After eating, she cleaned the entire house, not that there was a speck of dirt to be found anyway.

It only took her to mid-day before she ran out of house chores. Going in to help at Chanton Hillview would have been ideal to pass the day by, but she didn’t want to see it in progress. Leaving Roy in charge of the whole project was actually so that she could come and see the end result. She wanted the surprise, a kind of gift to herself. And also, there was that ghostly incident in her office. Better not to risk it today.

Trick-or-treating wasn’t common at her house but she went out and bought a variety of sweets in case.

When she returned home, she gathered some old clothes, DVDs, jewellery and other items that she no longer wanted, three large bags full, then took one bag each to three different charity shops.

Afterwards, she cycled out towards the sea. Chanton was on high ground, and cliff edge ran along the west side of the town. The north of Lansin Island was mostly steep cliffs along the coast line. Juliet took a cycle path which led her to a spectacular view of the hills.

The exercise, the picturesque scenery and the cold, crisp air gave her confidence. She cycled home as the early dark fell upon her.

By evening, she’d busied herself to the point of exhaustion. But at least Halloween was almost over.

Allowing herself to finally relax, she sat down to watch television. The local news showed footage of the earlier celebrations and highlighted the evening’s entertainment across Amiton.

In her exhaustion, her eyes started to give in. As they did, the picture on the television began to flicker. A nearby lamp post burned brighter for a few seconds and then switched off completely. The television alternated channels before the picture froze on a random image.

The half-sleep that consumed Juliet prevented her from witnessing the phenomena, but when the window blinds swayed and clattered, the noises startled her.

Her first thought was that she was dreaming. Then the temperature dropped; she felt more awake than ever. The air in the room seemed to swirl and howl, creating a circle in the centre, surrounding her on the sofa like a vortex.

A gentle hue coloured the room, bitter, icy blue. She wanted to run, shriek, get out of the house, but she found herself petrified.

She attempted a scream but the sound stifled in her throat.

Out of the agitated atmosphere enveloping her, a figure appeared. This time it was fully visible, unlike the amorphous shape that appeared in her office. This was a woman, and she looked solid, real. Her eyes brown, her face pretty, her hair chocolaty.

‘Help me,’ she said, her voice an echo.

Juliet couldn’t vocalise. Breathing proved difficult and her chest painfully rose and fell.

‘I need your help,’ the woman’s empty eyes looked at Juliet. ‘I don’t mean to frighten you but I can’t stay long. Please listen to me.’

Juliet found her voice, ‘You’re not real… I’m hallucinating… or I’m dreaming.’

‘Even if you were, you can still see me and hear me. I am real in that sense, but please, I don’t have time.’ the woman’s ethereal voice filled Juliet’s head.

The spirit continued, ‘My name is Samantha Crystan. I need you to find my son, Nicolas. You can find him at Creaky Crystals in Amiton, find him and ask him to go to Grendel Manor. He thinks I wanted to abandon my family. He needs to know the truth,’ the spirit conveyed no emotions as she spoke; her eyes seemed glazed and distant. ‘Tell him to go to Grendel Manor, and that he must take his…’

Juliet’s house phone rang, causing her to jolt. As she did, the spirit disappeared. The room returned to normal within a split second. Juliet blankly stared at nothing.

Her mind raced. Nicolas Crystan, Creaky Crystals, Grendel Manor, he needs to know the truth, he must take his… take his what? What was she going to say?

‘Take his what?’ she called out, but received no reply.

Chapter 7

Nick had a nightmare last night.

It wasn’t entirely coherent but from what he pieced together it was disturbing. He was in an open field and it was raining, but even through the heavy downpour he could feel heat, like the intensity of an enormous bonfire. It smelled thick of smoke but it was too dark to see where it came from.

Then he heard screams, but in a dream things didn’t exactly make a sound or at least not the correct sound, but he knew it was children screaming in agony.

The rain stopped and he was somewhere else, an empty place; well, it wasn’t exactly a place, it was like being nowhere: a dark nothingness. But someone was there with him. His mum, but she was slightly out of reach

Desperately, he tried to reach his hand out to her. She floated backward; the faster he attempted to run, the more his legs ached and were unable to move.

He couldn’t shout or make her stop. He was helpless to do anything. She drifted out of sight into the nothingness. But steps appeared, he walked up them, hoping to be led out of the darkness but when he reached the top, he looked back and realised that the steps weren’t designed to be walked up.

At the bottom of the steps, where he’d started the ascent, was a pit. The smell of smoke hit him again. He endured a choking sensation. When he turned back to move further up the steps, a man appeared in front of him, blocking his path.

The man’s face was kind; something about his eyes inspired feelings of safety. He put one arm around Nick’s back, directing him up and away from the pit. When they reached the top of the stairs, the man plunged into his pocket and drew out a large knife. A beautiful knife, ancient and engraved in some dream-language Nick could not interpret. He was enthralled by the blade, in a trance, admiring its beauty.

Staring at it for what felt like an eternity, his eyes were finally drawn away by the appearance of his dad, John Crystan.

Out of the nothingness, his dad walked up to the other man. The unknown gentleman passed him the knife. Nick felt happy, belated for some reason at the knife being in his father’s possession; like it was an honour.

The man fixed his gaze on Nick’s dad and as he did, John began to approach his son, weapon in hand. He stuck the blade deep into Nick’s stomach, then pushed him.

He twisted and fell down the steps, bones snapping on the way down and then landed in the pit. Fire enveloped him, pain engulfed him, and that is when he woke up.

Upon awakening he realised that he had slept on his arm in a position that cut off the blood flow and it had gone completely numb. It was horrible; in his only-just-woken-up state of mind, he feared the worst: that his arm would have to be amputated. It felt dead and heavy. After a short while, it returned to normal but he had the irritating sensation of pins and needles lingering in his hand.

His thoughts returned to the nightmare. He’d usually brush it off and go back to sleep or forget about it, but since the premonitions, he’d been placing more importance on the activity of his mind.

It was nothing like the vision of the woman falling, or the recent one of the attackers; those visions were clear and so, so real. This dream was nonsensical and, he supposed, unrealistic.  But for all he knew, it could have been another form of seeing the future. Like his grandmother supposedly had a dream of exactly how and when she would die.

Maybe it was construed in metaphorical imagery, being a dream after all?

The most likely scenario was that he was over-thinking the entire thing; that he was looking for meaning in a nightmare that was probably nothing more than a common dream-like interpretation of his fears.

After all, he had dreamt of his mum being out of reach, and she was. He’d dreamt of his dad stabbing him… that wasn’t a fear of his, but their relationship wasn’t great.

There was also the smell of bonfire and the sounds of screaming children which could be due to the Halloween theme that’d surrounded him the past few weeks. Also, the heavy rain from the dream: it always rained on Lansin Island. And as for the ancient looking knife: Creaky Crystals sold ritual knives, athames.

He could find logical reasons for everything present in the nightmare, except for the man with the kind face who led him up the stairs and away from the pit, who passed his dad the old knife. He didn’t know who he was.

In the nightmare, Nick had felt complete safety in the man’s presence, but shortly after he passed the knife to Nick’s dad it was like they both turned against him: his dad the minion with orders from the overlord, Mr Kind-Face, to stab him.

Too creepy to think about and he didn’t need to ponder it for any longer.

He stretched and yawned, pleased to have got some sleep; working Halloween yesterday was hectic and exhausting. It always amazed him to see practically the whole of Amiton dressed up. Customers heaved in and out of Creaky Crystals all day long.

The only comparison he could think of to sum up the craziness of Halloween in Amiton was the hype at Disney World; the way people bought items that they would never purchase if they weren’t in a giant theme park.

Disney World hype: buy a Mickey Mouse hat that you’ll never wear! Halloween in Amiton hype: buy a set of tarot cards that you’ll never use!

Nick had only been to Disney World once, with his mum, his dad and his brothers when he was young. He thought about the way his dad was back then and how he didn’t recognise him in the withdrawn man he now was.

For work, Nick dressed as a zombie wearing a poncho and a sombrero. He got some interesting reactions. Michael was a vampire, surprise, surprise, Mora was a witch, but it wasn’t too different to her usual attire, Janet wore some devil horns, boring, and Alan dressed as Shrek.

Friday came around quickly. Nick parked up and headed for Creaky Crystals.

On his walk through the lower grounds, a sense of dread grew in his stomach. Ahead of him, he could make out a collection of flowers and other items propped against the bottom of the 50ft wall. He was bemused at first and then realised what it was. Someone had died there... But the woman… I saved her, didn’t I?

Quickening his pace, he squinted to get a better view of the omnium-gatherum of flowers and other items. A picture of a woman had been placed there. He recognised her; it was the waddling witch wannabe, the customer who enquired about different wands in Creaky Crystals a couple of weeks ago.

She’d died here, but how? Why here in this spot where the woman from his vision had hit the ground?

Under the picture was her name: Rowena Helen Howard.

‘Did you know her?’ a man with short black hair asked as he placed down a bouquet of flowers with an attached note that simply read ‘rest in peace’ on it.

‘No, I work just there,’ Nick pointed a finger towards Creaky Crystals, ‘I’m about to start work.’ his voice quavered, How am I supposed to feel? ‘What about you? Did you know her?’

‘Not very well. We were in the same class at school; she was always nice to me.’ he said, looking unsure of how he should feel too, ‘It’s sad. I feel awful for her family, not knowing how it happened.’

‘What did happen?’ Stupid question, he bit his lip, frowned and looked about. There were a couple of girls stood a few metres away; they stared sullenly down, tears in their eyes.

‘No one knows. I saw about it on the news last night. She was found here yesterday morning, but she’s too far out from the edge to have fallen. It’s like she was thrown over or maybe she jumped.’ His face tightened and he looked down at the picture of her, ‘It’s not right talking about it here. Whatever happened, it looks like she’s going to be missed by a lot of people.’

At that point, it began to rain. The sky was a morbid colour. The man had pale skin and his scalp became more visible as his black hair collected the wet.

They stood in silence while Nick watched the memorial notes begin to smudge and crumple. At least the flowers would endure. He wiped a hand firmly over his hair to rinse out the soak, ‘I better go to work, take care.’ he said.

The black-haired guy nodded goodbye to him and then ascended the steps to the upper grounds.

If Nick had watched the news more often, then he might have seen about this incident and would have been more prepared for today, but the news depressed him so he rarely watched it.

Passing through the door to Creaky Crystals, he came over queasy and his thoughts swam in circles. Is it my fault that the waddling witch wannabe is dead?

Mora smiled at him on his entrance, walked past him and towards the front door, ‘I’m going on my lunch now, Nicolas. Michael said that someone came in to see you the other day. Ask him about it, okay?’ she said speedily and exited.

Nick didn’t know who would have stopped by to see him; he wasn’t exactly Mr Social Life.

After chucking his jacket out the back, he returned to the shop floor. Michael and Alan approached him, ‘You’re looking a bit peak-ish, Nick! ’ Alan said, and mockingly kept his distance as if Nick were contagiously ill.

‘I’m alright, I’ve just heard about the woman who fell and died out there. It took me by surprise a bit.’

‘Who says she fell? She might have jumped! Maybe she was pushed… maybe she was killed somewhere else, then dumped there. Or actually, she probably did fall… it’s not called The Fallend for no reason!’ Alan cocked his head to one side and raised his eyebrows.

Michael interrupted. ‘That’s not cool, Alan, she only died yesterday, shouldn’t be talking about it like that. It’s not funny.’

‘Alright, alright, I was only saying.’ Alan looked down at the floor for a second then swiftly popped his head back up, ‘Hey, Nick, some fit bird came in to see you on Tuesday, didn’t she, Mikey boy?’

‘Yeah, I told her you were working today. She’s gonna come at the end of your shift to see you. She was tall, blonde and pretty.’

‘She was fit.’ offered Alan, again, with enough enthusiasm to wobble his double chin.

Alan was single, in his thirties, and worked fulltime at Creaky Crystals. He seemed content with that, but he didn’t share a whole lot about his life outside of work.

‘Okay, thanks.’

‘Do you know her?’ Michael asked Nick.

‘I don’t think so.’

‘Janet’s probably set you up with her.’ he laughed.

‘Janet needs to set me up with her!’ Alan chimed in. Michael and Nick laughed, though Alan was starting to grind on Nick’s nerves. He was a nice enough bloke, but lately he’d seemed a bit blasé towards the reactions his comments were getting; some things he said came across plain hostile.

‘Well, I don’t know who she is anyway.’ Nick said. As Alan went to say more, he was interrupted by a customer wanting to purchase an item. He took the customer to one of the till points to process the transaction.

‘So, is she as fit as Alan says?’ Nick asked Michael, sarcastically exaggerating the word ‘fit’.

‘Yeah, she was pretty. Not my type though.’

‘She sounds exactly your type,’ Nick was confused because Michael had always come across so simple; Nick had thought Michael would be the one saying fit bird. But no, ‘pretty’ seemed to be his word of the day, and with his unintelligent troll-voice and his angel face, that word just didn’t seem like one he’d use.

‘No. Not really.’

‘You haven’t had a girlfriend in ages, since Kelly in fact.’ Nick remarked.

‘I haven’t met anyone I like.’

‘Fair enough.’ he shrugged his shoulders and the conversation ceased there.

Michael approached a woman sifting her hands through a bowl of gemstones. He struck up a conversation.

Alan still served the same customer, although it seemed to have turned into a pleasant causerie between them.

Nick dawdled around the store, glad to finally have time to think about everything going on.

He deduced that the tall blonde woman who had come into the store was the gorgeous one that he saved. He couldn’t think of any other tall blondes that he knew. Maybe she realised that she never said thank you to him for saving her. But then how did she know he worked at Creaky Crystals, and how did she know his name?

Maybe it wasn’t her who came in, but anyway, he didn’t feel much like a hero anymore. He may have saved her life, but now this other woman, Rowena Howard, had died in the exact same place that Tall-and-blonde was supposed to hit the ground.

What was this? Fate taking someone else in exchange? Some blip in physics, compensating for what he took away? Was it just a freaky coincidence? Did she commit suicide? Why was it her? She was the first person he saw and spoke to after he snapped out of the vision.

The black-haired man said that it was almost as if she’d been thrown over the edge. All he could think about was the premonition and how the woman was vaulted a great distance.

There were too many coincidences and parallels. He glanced out the shop at the flowers and cringed. Then he realised something. The flashes: flowers, notes, the lower grounds, cobbles, the wall, tears, pictures, bouquets.

Confused, he went to the staff toilets to compose himself. Those flashes, the ones that gave him a splitting headache… they were the future? No, coincidence surely, they weren’t like the other visions.

Maybe it was denial, but he didn’ t want to entertain the notion that those painful flashes could be a form of foresight. Not when the other times, the daydreams were so vivid and clear. Although he experienced pain in the vision where he was attacked, when he snapped out of it he wasn’t left in any physical agony.

Nobody seemed to notice his sudden disappearance, and when he returned he tried to stay out of the way.

Almost every customer had something to say about the flowers gathered a few metres from the front of the store: how tragic it was, how young the poor woman was, what a shame, what a horrible way to go, and so on. With every comment, he turned guiltier; but what could he do about it anyway? Nothing.

To distract his mind, he turned to people watching. Mora had asked him to keep an eye out for suspicious customers, so that’s what he did. Nothing peculiar caught his attention for a long while, but when something did, it wasn’t a customer who was acting shifty.

Alan repeatedly glanced around the store as if he was counting people. He hovered near the entrance. The store was fairly busy; Mora was serving behind the till, Janet had the day off, and Michael was helping out a customer.

Nick served a customer at the second till so they didn’t have to wait for Mora to put through her transaction. He pretended to be engrossed in what he was doing while he surreptitiously observed Alan.

Two people entered the shop. One was a tall man with shaved dark hair and he wore a black bomber jacket. The other was a lady with greasy mouse-blonde hair in a ponytail. Nick watched Alan and saw him give the slightest nod to them. It was almost undetectable, but he seemed to nod towards the CDs & DVDs section of the store.

Alan scanned the other staff. Nick flicked his eyes down when Alan almost caught him watching. When Nick finished serving the customer, he headed towards the back of the store as if he was going towards to the toilets out the back. When he was out of Alan’s sight, he hid on a corner where he still had view of the CDs & DVDs section. His heart thudded, I feel like a spy.

The tall man stood sideways, partly blocking the view of the greasy-haired lady. She had a bag from Crystals Galore, one of the stores in the upper grounds. She slipped a couple of DVDs into it.

‘Hey!’ Nick marched up to them. The man in the bomber jacket turned and glared at him. ‘I saw you put them in your bag. Take them back out please.’

‘You saw nothing.’ the leggy man rolled his shoulders and tensed his jaw.

‘I know what I saw, now put our stock back where it belongs.’

The thief-lady widened her eyes and gave a dumbstruck face, trying to act the victim.

‘Leave my wife alone.’ Tall-man said with an accent. Nick unconsciously took a step back when he saw the man clench his fist.

Michael and Mora must have heard the commotion because they were at Nick’s side before he knew it.

‘What’s going on?’ Michael asked.

‘This lady put some DVDs in her bag without paying.’

‘No. I buy from Crystals Galore. See? I have bag.’ the lady’s voice was shrill.

Mora replied, ‘Okay, well if you did then you won’t mind showing us the items in your bag then.’ She held out her hand.

Nick looked over at Alan who watched intently. When he saw Nick looking, he twisted away and rushed to talk to a customer.

The greasy-haired lady thrust the bag indignantly towards Mora. Mora took out the DVDs and turned them over, looking for the Creaky Crystals stickers that they attached to most items. She found the labels, of course.

‘I’m sorry,’ Mora spoke authoritatively, ‘but these are our items and you don’t seem to have a receipt in the bag. What I will do is put them back on our shelf, and if you leave now then I won’t call the police. But if I see you in here again, that will be the first thing that I do.’ She stared firmly at the short lady.

The lady glowered back then looked at the lanky man for defence; her face read: ‘Are you going to let her talk to me like that?’

A fist shot towards Nick but he dodged it, just about. The fabric of the bomber jacket swept across his face with a swish noise. He heard the man grunt in anger.

‘Whoa, calm down, man.’ Michael pushed the guy; it toppled him back a few steps.

Nick’s bladder tightened, embarrassingly. He was not used to aggression; he hated it. Alan sped over to intervene then and said to the couple, ‘Come on, leave the store now please.’

The man glowered at Nick on his way out, and the lady held her head high. Nick knew why the couple listened to Alan. They weren’t afraid of him; they were stealing on his behalf.

Mora’s hand was up to her heart. She asked Nick if he was okay. He nodded. Then she turned to Alan and said, ‘Thank you for getting them out of my store.’

‘That’s okay. Scum like that aren’t welcome here.’ he laughed affably, but Nick could see straight through him. Then Alan shimmied back to work.

‘Thank you, Nick. Thank you, Michael.’ Mora said. ‘I’m sorry you got put in danger like that.’

‘No worries.’ Michael said. Nick smiled half-heartedly alongside him, and then Mora went to sit behind one of the counters.

Nick tapped Michael on the side of his arm, ‘Just out of curiosity, was it your turn to tag-check the jewellery section last week?’

‘Yeah. Why?’

‘It doesn’t matter. I was only asking.’

‘Yeah, it was my turn but Alan asked to swap sections with me, so he did it instead.’

‘And you didn’t change it on the rota?’

‘Nah, what’s the point? We still got both areas done.’

‘Okay. Thanks.’ Nick said, then went to tidy some shelves.

So when it Alan’s turn to tag-check the tarot cards, some were stolen. Then he did the jewellery section last week and Mora noticed some missing. Nick quickly checked the rota for this week and saw that Alan was down for the DVDs & CDs section. He’d already figured it out, but now he was certain.

When Alan was due to leave at five, Nick found an opportunity to talk to him on the way out. ‘I know what you’re up to, Alan.’ he said. ‘You better stop. Mora doesn’t deserve this.’

Alan bit his bottom lip. Nick could see the fear in his face. He didn’t reply but nodded then hurried off with a wave, acting like they’d exchanged a normal see-you-later.

At the end of the shift, Mora let Nick go ten minutes early. He was out of the store by ten to six.

It was dark already but the lower grounds were lit by lamp posts and stores that were still open. Stood facing the flowers was the tall blonde woman.

It had stopped raining a few hours ago and the woman’s hair danced in the wind. She was stood completely still, looking down at the flowers on the floor. Her hands were drawn up to cover her mouth.

Nick approached her, scraping his shoes along the ground so that she would hear him coming and not be startled. She turned and looked at him, her eyebrows pulling together.

‘I recognise you.’ she said.

‘Well, I did save your life… I thought that maybe you’d come here to say thank you?’

Her eyebrows loosened, ‘I’m sorry; I was in shock. I didn’t stop to say thank you, I think… I mean…’ she turned and looked at the flower pile, ‘That should be me.’ She pointed at the picture of the dead woman, ‘I should have died there. I felt myself go over the edge. But you saved me.’

He stayed silent.

And then she asked him, ‘What happened to this woman?’

‘She fell, I think. No one seems to know; it could have been suicide or anything. Why did you come here to see me? How did you know my name and where I work?’

‘Are you Nicolas Crystan?’

‘Yeah, what’s your name?’

‘Juliet Maystone.’

‘It’s nice to meet you again.’ he said, offering a shy laugh.

‘Can we go for a walk? I need to talk to you.’

‘It’s freezing cold. How about we go to the pub on the corner?’

‘Sure, anywhere. You’re not going to believe what I have to say anyway. I wouldn’t believe it.’ And on that declaration she headed for the pub. Nick followed her, pondering what on earth was going on.

She didn’t walk with him but slightly ahead and at a pace he struggled to follow; it augmented the effect of the harsh wind on his face. He shivered; being one who never dressed appropriately for the time of year, but Juliet had on fine clothes and didn’t seem bothered by the cold.

They entered The Crow pub, and Juliet took a seat in a far corner. Nick didn’t feel right using the place for conversation without buying at least a drink, so he offered to get one for Juliet but she said no.

He bought himself an orange juice. While he waited for the bartender to prepare the drink, he tapped the centre of his left palm repeatedly. He was nervous about speaking with Juliet; she was gorgeous and he wasn’t sure what her intentions for seeking him out were. I’m calm, I’m focused, I’m calm, I’m focused.

He was passed his drink, and then he walked over and sat across from Juliet.

The corner in which they sat was warm and dimly lit. There were not many people in the pub and they were distanced enough to allow private conversation.

‘So how did you know my name and where I work?’ he asked.

She didn’t reply immediately, then came out with, ‘Your mother told me.’

His heart pulled in on itself, inflicting a jolt of pain. Then it moved on to rapidly thud in his chest.

‘She’s alive? Do you know where she is?’ his voice came out weak, fragile.

Juliet frowned and fidgeted, ‘Why do you think she’s alive?’ she asked.

‘She disappeared eight years ago, but you’ve spoken with her haven’t you? When did you speak with her?’ he felt hopeful, maybe? He wasn’t sure.

‘I’ve gone about this in the wrong order.’ she shook her head, ‘I’m sorry, your mother’s not alive… I thought you knew that.’ She winced and avoided eye contact.

Emptiness grew inside of him; until right now, he hadn’t realised how much he’d hoped his mum was still alive and about to walk back into his life.

Maybe he was more like his dad than he originally thought.

But now he knew that she was dead. He didn’t exactly feel sad; it had been almost nine years after all, so he’d grieved already, but maybe he’d be upset later when he had time to process it all. He actually sensed some relief in finally knowing her fate, followed by guilt for feeling that relief.

‘How do you know she’s dead?’

‘Look, I’ll tell you what’s been happening to me since the day you pulled me out the way of the car. Just listen to what I have to say, I feel embarrassed enough coming here as it is, and I won’t be surprised if you think I’m crazy. But I’m not crazy. I tried to ignore this, but I couldn’t.’ she gave him a stern look.

‘Okay, I’ll listen to you.’ his intuition said he could trust her; she seemed honestly annoyed to be in the position she was in and to have to talk to him.

She looked past him, momentarily, at an empty table a few metres away. He turned to see what had caught her attention but nothing was there.

‘Are you alright?’

‘Yes, fine,’ her attention snapped back to him, ‘I was just thinking about something.’

‘Okay, tell me what you were going to say.’

‘When the car came towards me, I felt it hit me… I really felt it throw me over the edge, and I hit the ground, but when I opened my eyes, I was alive. You saved me, but I felt different. On the way home I started seeing things: blurs, shadows, figures… strange things that don’t make sense. For the next few days I kept on seeing these things, I thought I was in shock maybe, but at one point it became too much. I heard something say to me, “Help me”, in my kitchen and nobody was there.’

Nick listened to her and tried to gather where she was going with it. He believed what she was saying because he’d had a vision of the future; if that kind of paranormal thing was possible then maybe this was too.

She continued, ‘I booked an appointment with Tamara Trewin, you probably know who she is… the medium that lives in Willow?’ he nodded to show he knew who she meant. ‘I described to her about the car incident and she did something with her hands, feeling the energy off of me I think, and when she was done she told me that I was displaced.’

‘Displaced? What did she mean?’

‘I haven’t finished yet, she told me that it was my fate to die and that when you saved me I was physically saved but my soul died, or I spiritually died... something like that.’ Juliet looked down at her hands as if she was ashamed to say these things out loud, ‘She said that I’m anchored into two worlds; this world and the Otherworld.’

Nick could now see where she was headed with the tale. He almost didn’t want to listen.

‘Tamara told me that I could see spirits and that Halloween would be a vulnerable day for me.’ she stopped and rubbed the fingers of both her hands over her temples, ‘I can’t believe I’m saying this aloud; it sounds ridiculous.’

Nick should his head, ‘No, I believe you.’

‘You do?’ she looked him in the eyes. He thought she was about to smile but she looked away again.

‘Yeah, I have something to tell you that you might not believe. And I think I know where you’re going with this… my mum appeared to you on Halloween didn’t she?’

Juliet sighed, relaxed her posture. ‘There’s more to it than that. She asked me to find you. She told me your name and where you work. She told me her name, Samantha Crystan, and she said that you must go to Grendel Manor, that you need to know the truth...’ Juliet looked at Nick as if the mention of Grendel Manor would mean something to him.

‘Know the truth? She must mean about how she died?’

‘I assume so. She tried to say more but before she could finish, she disappeared. She said she couldn’t stay for long. She started to say that you have to take something with you. She said tell him to go to Grendel Manor and he must take his… but then she vanished.’

‘I don’t know what she could have meant by that.’ he replied honestly.

He had a sip of orange juice; he usually would have savoured the freshness of it, but with all these revelations, the acidic taste made his nervous stomach churn.

‘What do you have to tell me?’ Juliet asked.

‘The reason I believe everything you’ve said is that something strange happened to me too. A few days before the car almost hit you, I had a vision of it actually hitting you and throwing you over the edge. I saw you die. At the time I thought it was just a weird daydream. Then on that Friday morning, I saw things that matched my daydream and I knew that I had to act fast to save you. That’s how I got to you in time and saved you: because I’d seen the future.’ the tension flew off of his shoulders; such relief to talk to someone about it.

‘So… Tamara was right. It was my fate to die.’

‘I don’t know, but I wasn’t going to let you die like that.’ he said, and he wasn’t sure if he imagined it but he thought he saw her blush.

He’d thought that she was gorgeous when he first saw her but now he could really see just how beautiful she was.

‘This can’t all be coincidence can it?’ she asked.

‘I don’t think so.’

‘So what are we going to do about it?’

‘We?’ his pitch rose.

‘Yes, we, if you’re going to Grendel Manor, then I’m coming with you.’

Chapter 8

Juliet thought about Nick on her bus journey home. His hazel brown-green eyes soothed her the few times that she dared to give eye contact, but she also thought he seemed younger and less mature than her.

They’d agreed that on Monday, he would pick her up from Chanton as it was closer to Grendel Manor than Amiton was. She didn’t give him her address but instead chose a location where he could pick her up from. They exchanged phone numbers before leaving The Crow in case they needed to contact each other.

It felt as though the bus journey was taking eons; she was on edge again. At The Crow, even as she talked with Nick, there was a woman sat a few tables away; she stared.

Juliet knew it was a spirit, and she knew who it was. It was the unfortunate woman that had mysteriously fallen and died, the one the memorial was for out the front of Creaky Crystals. She’d read the lady’s name in the light of the shop windows: Rowena Helen Howard.

The spirit of Rowena fixed her eyes on Juliet for the first minute or so of her conversation, then vanished into thin air. Juliet handled it much better than she did the previous week of phenomena but she’d had more exposure to it by now.

After Samantha Crystan had appeared on Halloween, Juliet had thought there would be no more spirits, but there was another one only a couple of days later.

In fact, she’d begun to realise walking around Chanton, that some of the usual by-passers were actually spirits. It could have gone unnoticed to her, but she could tell the difference because the air that surrounded spirits seemed to twitch; like perturbance in the atmosphere, or static on a television screen. And of course it was a give-away if the spirit suddenly materialised or dematerialised.

She found it most odd that when Samantha Crystan had appeared, lights flickered, the temperature changed, and there were all kinds of theatrics, but that didn’t happen for every spirit. She thought that maybe they came from different depths of the Spiritworld; was it harder for some spirits to appear than others? At first, Samantha wasn’t fully formed or in any detail. Was that because Juliet was new to her ability or was it Samantha trying desperately to get through?

The spirit in The Crow was on Juliet’s mind; she thought that Rowena’s death had something to do with her; that in some way she was responsible.

It’s not like I asked to be saved. Even if I wanted to be, I wouldn’t have wanted someone to die in my place, she thought. But it didn’t help. She felt guilt weigh her down; it was horrible to bear.

The spirit could have been staring at her to make her feel guilty or to let her know that it should have been her to die. Whatever the reason, she didn’t ask for any of this, and that helped her to ignore Rowena and concentrate on her conversation with Nick.

She hated the feel of guilt; it didn’t seem to serve a purpose. She could only think of one way to try to resolve it. She decided that she would learn to use her new ability. Maybe she could even help Rowena, or find out what happened. She had to do something. She detested knowing that it should have been her to die. In her eyes it would be plain wrong if she didn’t try to make it all mean something… helping Nicolas and Samantha Crystan could be a first step, at least.

The bus pulled into Chanton. She received a phone call as she thanked the driver and exited. It was Kim, so she removed a glove to answer her phone.

‘Hey, Kim.’

‘Juliet!’ Kim squeaked, ‘What are you doing tomorrow?’

‘I haven’t planned anything yet.’ she answered. She usually volunteered at the charity shop on Saturdays but she’d cancelled, assuming that Nicolas would want to go to Grendel Manor as soon as possible, but he said something about going to his dad’s house on the weekend.

‘I’ll come over then, yeah?’

‘Sure, what do you have in mind?’

She was walking home. She hated how hot her body felt under her winter coat; it contrasted with the sting of cold wind against her gloveless hand and her naked face.

‘Some girly gossip, some drinks and a lot of chillaxing in your hot tub, of course. We can have a proper catch up.’

‘You want to have some drinks? Are you planning on staying over or bussing home?’

‘Ryan will drop me off and pick me up. It’s Bonfire Night tomorrow so he’ll take me to see some fireworks.’

‘He’s okay with you coming over and drinking?’ Ryan Fraser was Kim’s boyfriend; they’d been seeing each other for about three years, maybe four. He gave Juliet the creeps.

‘Yeah, he’s the one who suggested that I see a friend for the day. I think he’s had a stressful week at work and wants the day to himself. He works odd shifts.’ Kim said; she didn’t sound totally convincing.

‘Is he still a support worker?’ As far as Juliet could remember, Ryan had been a support worker for vulnerable adults for years now.

‘Yeah, tough job, he’s a sweetheart for keeping at it. I know I couldn’t do it!’

‘Sounds like a rewarding job though.’ she remarked, unsure.

‘Ha! Not with the pay he’s on.’

Juliet laughed then returned to the previous subject.

‘What time are you coming over then?’

‘Midday?’

‘That suits me.’

‘Juliet… you’re buying the drinks, right?’ Kim sniggered amiably.

‘I’ve already got plenty for you to choose from.’

‘If I was minted like you, I’d buy us the drinks and I’d let you chillax in my hot tub. You know that right?’

‘Yeah, yeah…’ she teased, ‘I’m sure you would.’

She stayed on the phone to Kim while she walked home.

Chanton was eerily quiet and at times, Juliet had the urge to run so she’d get home sooner. She didn’t speed up though; she believed it a better tactic to appear confident to avoid getting mugged than to be a running target that looked pathetically vulnerable and scared. Scuttling down these empty dark streets would not portray confidence.

She reached her home. After a goodbye to Kim, she hung up, unlocked her front door, entered, and then removed her stuffy winter coat.

Roy had called her the day before to update her on the progress of redecorating Chanton Hillview. He told her that it was all going to plan and should be finished early next week. She smiled when she heard this; it was the highlight of her week so far and she couldn’t wait to see the end result.

For Juliet, there was still time to do something productive this evening. She checked to make sure that she was stocked up on fruit juice and still had some Southern Comfort. Her wine collection filled half a wall but she was pretty confident that Kim would go for Southern Comfort and cranberry juice, as usual. She put a bottle of champagne in the fridge, in case.

She switched on the patio lights then strode out into the garden.

It had been a while since she’d used the hot tub, so she decided to give it a clean out. She removed the cover first using the cover lifter, cleaned it with a weak chlorine solution, hosed it down then propped it against the patio wall to dry. She used some disinfectant spray to clean all the areas of the tub she could reach, then replaced the filter and filled the tub with hot water and bleach, then ran the jets.

She went back inside while the jets were left on.

The blinking of an LED on her laptop caught her attention; she realised that she’d left it running without the power adaptor connected, so the battery was about to give out. She plugged it back in and logged into her online banking account. Tension set into her jaw when she saw that her parents had transferred some money to her. She’d told her mother that it didn’t matter; that she only wanted to talk about the car incident.

Oh well, an extra five thousand pounds is always nice to receive.

After half an hour, she returned to the hot tub, drained it, then filled it with cold water and let the jets run again to rinse out the bleach. She left it for a further half an hour while she showered, shaved her legs and armpits, and washed her hair. Then she returned to drain it for a final time. The cover was almost dry so she replaced it and went back inside.

It was almost ten o’clock by the time she was done. When her body climbed into bed, she indulged in the slow sinking sensation of the memory foam mattress, and then settled on her back to look up at the ceiling for a while.

The light was off but she could still make out the shapes in the room.

It had been a strange couple of weeks or so, to say the least. She came close to tears; she despised that someone had died where she was supposed to. It wasn’t fair.

She pulled the cover up over herself and hid away in deep shame. With closed eyes, she reminded herself not to give in.

I’m not a bad person. I didn’t ask for this. I still have a choice… I can help people and make the best out of this.

She’d come to accept that she really could see the spirits of dead people. If that meant to others that she was absolutely bonkers, then so be it; it wasn’t like she was going to go around telling everyone.

‘I’m going to make the best out of this situation.’ she said aloud, alone in her bedroom. ‘But listen to me spirits… Don’t disturb me tonight. I’ll do my best to help where I can, but I need a good night’s sleep.’

One final look around the room and she rested content when her statement didn’t receive a ghostly reply.

*

Kim arrived the next day, dead on twelve. Juliet answered the door and glimpsed Ryan in his car; he nodded goodbye to Kim, then turned his solemn face to the steering wheel and drove off.

Shivers ran down Juliet’s spine in thought of him.

‘Eeeeeeeeeeee!’ Kim greeted her with a shriek and a hug.

‘Kim!’ she said enthusiastically, ‘It’s good to see you.’

‘Let’s start drinking.’

‘What? It’s midday.’

‘Yeah, we’re late already then.’ Kim laughed, then grabbed Juliet’s hand and pulled her towards the kitchen.

On the way, Kim paused and tugged on Juliet’s wrist, ‘You look different.’ she said, accusingly. ‘Your skin… you’ve had treatment, right? And your hair, it’s lighter!’

‘I haven’t had anything done. My hair’s probably been cut since I last saw you, but nothing else.’ she shrugged. Strangely, she felt like she was lying; she’d noticed a difference in her appearance this morning, and also a few days ago. When she woke up and looked in the mirror, she thought her skin looked smoother than usual, healthier. Also, her hair did look enhanced, brighter: almost glittery.

‘I don’t believe you.’ Kim stuck out her tongue then giggled. ‘Whatever you’ve had done, you look stunning.’ she started to drag Juliet towards the kitchen again and mumbled, ‘I wish I had your money...’ with a comical sigh.

Juliet prepared her best friend’s drink, Southern Comfort and cranberry juice, and then they proceeded to the living room to sit down and begin their catch up. Kim told her that things with Ryan were the same as always; she loved him, they never seriously argued, but he was always too stressed and preoccupied to do anything romantic.

‘Are you seeing anyone, Juliet?’

‘No, and I’m not looking.’

‘Come on, we’re not in school anymore. Why don’t you try to meet someone?’

At school, Kim and Juliet liked to think of themselves as untouchable; they were naturally popular due to their good looks but they never wanted boyfriends.

After leaving school, Kim changed her views on guys and went through a period of having a different boyfriend every week, but Juliet didn’t go through that change. She’d had one relationship; it lasted about seven months but she never truly got close to him. She’d lost her virginity because she felt that she should have by that age, but it wasn’t special.

‘I don’t know. I don’t think I have time for a boyfriend.’

‘You do.’ Kim said, matter-of-fact.

‘Maybe...’ her chest felt tight, uncomfortable.

Observantly, Kim asked, ‘What is it? You never like talking about men.’

The answer came automatically to her mind but she wasn’t sure if she wanted to say it aloud. Though after everything that had happened the past few weeks, she found the courage inside of her to say it. She took a rallying breath, ‘Why would anyone like me?’

Kim’s face turned serious all of a sudden, ‘Don’t say that, Juliet. You’re way prettier than most girls and you’re intelligent; you’ve got your own business and lots of money!’ She paused as if to give weight to her words.

Kim’s hair was short and dark brown, almost black. She had a bob hair cut that wouldn’t suit a lot of people, but it framed her face well. Her eyes were large, brown and alluring. Kim reminded Juliet of cinema’s femme fatales, but only in her seductive appearance and ‘kick-ass’ looks; Juliet couldn’t imagine her best friend purposefully using her feminine wiles to get her own way.

‘There are so many reasons for someone to love you. Almost every guy at school fancied you; probably half the girls did too!’ she tittered in a caring-yet-serious manner.

‘No, they all fancied you, Kim!’

‘They fancied me too, obviously.’ she stuck out her tongue. ‘They fancied both of us; look at us,’ she gestured a hand back and forth between herself and Juliet, ‘we are pretty hot.’

‘If you say so.’ Juliet shook her head then chuckled appropriately to let the subject of her love-life fall away.

They continued to gossip for a long while and put on a DVD to play in the background.

Kim had brought with her Love Actually: her favourite film of all time but one of Juliet’s least favourite films of all time. But for Kim, she could endure it.

Kim was getting steadily merry on Southern Comfort and cranberry juice throughout the afternoon but Juliet didn’t drink so much. She got up to make her favourite guest another drink. She walked to the kitchen.

It wasn’t the ideal time to ponder it but Tamara’s words jumped into her mind.

Your fate was to die.

It made her think of a film she’d seen once, Final Destination. The idea of ‘Death’ hunting her down was something she didn’t want to worry about or be on the lookout for. But worse than that, she felt like her freedom had been taken away from her. She’d never believed in fate before; she had always believed that each individual created their own reality and made their own choices.

The thought of having a predestined fate was plain horrible to her.

I must still have a choice. Nicolas had a choice; he saved me.

She was about to leave the kitchen with Kim’s drink prepared and in hand, but a slight chill at her back and a twitch in the air alerted her of what was coming.

Before even turning, she sensed a great inane, a wistful void that churned behind her. Her body tensed and she closed her eyes. She reminded herself of the promise she made last night. I’ll do my best to help where I can.

The spirit she found in her kitchen was roughly the age of twenty. He stared longingly at her with his blue eyes. His skin was pale, his hair was light and curly, and his face was characterised by a large nose and nearly-black eyebrows.

With only a slight quicken of her heart beat, Juliet asked, ‘Can I help you?’ she kept her voice calm, steady.

‘Don’t trust Ryan.’ he said with a speed that made her jump.

‘Why?’

‘Don’t trust him. Tell Kim she can’t trust him.’

‘What has he done?’

‘I’m Harry, Kim knows me, tell her not to trust him.’

‘Yes, you’ve said that a few times now. Why can’t she trust him?’ she tried not to raise her voice which would alarm Kim in the living room.

‘Ryan’s not who he says he is. She has to get away from him.’ he said forcefully.

‘Wait, your name’s Harry? You’re one of Kim’s ex-boyfriends?’

And he was gone.

She huffed, composed herself, then returned to the living room to give Kim her drink.

After a moment’s thought, she suggested that they go in the hot tub as it was dark outside and she could turn on the hot tub lights. They both changed into their swimsuits and Juliet tied up her hair to keep it from becoming wet.

She delighted in the perfect contrast of the night’s cold air and the hot tub’s warm embrace. But it seemed to her that every simple pleasure was overshadowed by something the past couple of weeks. That’s negative, useless thinking. Stop.

Once they were settled and they casually sipped on their beverages, Juliet asked a question, ‘What ever happened to your ex? Was his name Harry?’

‘Harry Cracknel?’ Kim responded, surprised.

‘Yeah.’

‘Uurrrghh, that nob-head, I hate him still today! He really broke my heart. It was just before I got with Ryan, about four years ago. I’d been seeing Harry for a few months and we were both head over heels for each other, at least I thought we were, and then one day he just calls it off. He tells me that he never wants to see me again and that he never liked me anyway. Well actually, he said a lot worse things than that’

‘Oh.’ was all Juliet could say, her thoughts bewildered.

‘I haven’t heard from him since. He vanished off the face of the earth it seems!’ Kim said, and Juliet almost laughed at her accuracy. ‘He’s probably using some other poor woman right now, only to break her heart too.’

‘Probably…’

‘Why’d you ask anyway?’

‘It was just on my mind. How did you meet Ryan then?’

‘You know Natasha and Becky from school? Well, I went with them into Amiton town one night and I met Ryan in a club. He was with his mates and he got my number off of Natasha. I didn’t give it to him because I was still with Harry at that point. But Ryan seemed to really like me. He kept texting me and stuff, and then a few days later, Harry went and dumped me. I’m glad Natasha gave Ryan my number, because he was there to comfort me after I got dumped, then he asked me out a couple of weeks after that and we’ve been together since, as you know.’

‘You’ve never told me any of this before.’ was Juliet’s response.

‘Well, I didn’t see you that much around the time, and once I was with Ryan, I didn’t want to talk about Harry anymore.’

Juliet changed the subject after that.

There was new food for thought and she brooded over the idea that a spirit could be just as malicious in afterlife as it was in life. Harry may have appeared to her to try to intervene and cause Kim more grief. But then, it was mysterious that Kim was under the impression that Harry simply vanished.

He was dead, obviously, and someone vanishing doesn’t go unnoticed in most cases.

When it was natural to return to that conversation, she asked if anyone had heard about Harry since. Kim replied that Harry didn’t grow up on Lansin Island so not many people knew him here; she reckoned that he must have decided to move back to wherever he came from without telling anyone.

Evening grew upon them. A few early fireworks caught Juliet off guard, causing a startle and some laughs. Shortly after, the doorbell rang loud enough for them to hear from the garden.

‘That must be Ryan.’ said Kim.

‘Okay, I’ll go answer. You get dressed and ready.’ Juliet climbed out the hot tub, patted her body with a towel, wrapped it around herself, and then scurried indoors.

On full alert and ready to detect suspicious behaviour, she answered the door.

‘Where’s Kim?’ Ryan asked curtly.

‘We’ve been in the hot tub, she’s just getting changed.’

‘Kay.’

He didn’t appear bothered that Juliet was wet and wrapped in a towel, so he didn’t seem to be a pervert at least, unless she was totally unattractive or not his type. She didn’t suspect that he was unfaithful in that area… but Kim was her best friend so she wasn’t about to stop scrutinising.

‘Do you want to wait inside?’ she felt the cold enter her home.

‘No.’ he said. He tapped one of his legs with his fingers impatiently and bit his bottom lip.

‘Are you alright?’

‘I just want to get back to Etherby. Kim wants to see some fireworks.’  Etherby was the small town that Ryan and Kim lived in. It was a ‘rough’ area. Too many low-income households crammed into one place; a common saying on Lansin Island was: ‘You don’t mess with Etherby Boys.’ Chanton was firmly on the other end of the spectrum; in general, people from Etherby looked at those in Chanton with jealous contempt.

‘She’ll just be a moment, I’m sure.’ Juliet nodded in an attempt to calm him. He still fidgeted.

His copper-red hair was illuminated by the porch light above, and Juliet couldn’t find anything attractive about him.

She’d never understood Kim’s interest in him. Although, it made more sense to her now that the reason Kim liked him was because of the timely comforting he offered after Harry dumped her.

Unshaven, Ryan had ginger stubble, and his copper hair was so short and coarse that it looked like stubble too. His face was covered in blemishes of a variety, and his teeth were crooked. He was in his early thirties, almost ten years older than Kim; but Juliet didn’t think the age gap mattered much.

Kim appeared and hugged Juliet, ‘I’ve missed this. We should see each other more often.’

Juliet replied, ‘That would be nice.’

Ryan had already started walking to his car without acknowledging his girlfriend. Something about his slouched posture and miserable attitude unsettled Juliet.

‘Kim, before you go, if there are any problems with you and Ryan, you are welcome to stay here. Just call me, okay?’ she smiled warmly.

‘Don’t worry. Like I said, he’s just stressed. Sorry if he was rude to you.’ Kim walked to the car and as she opened the door, she shouted, ‘Love you lots!’

‘Love you too.’

Kim closed the car door, fastened her seat belt and waved. Ryan didn’t look back at all but simply drove off, into the dark.

Juliet got a pang in her heart when she thought, What if I missed something? What if Harry was warning me that Ryan planned to kill her? I couldn’t live with the guilt of knowing I could have done something.

She brushed it off as over-the-top negative thinking and promised herself that she would call her best friend next week to see how she was doing. That was all she could do without arousing suspicion.

Before retiring to bed, she made plans for Sunday and thought about the visit to Grendel Manor the day after tomorrow.

Whatever was in store for her and Nicolas, she was glad to finally feel more like her confident, assured self. That is, she was fairly certain that if another spirit was to appear, she wouldn’t greet it with a scream like she did the first time.

Her life was different now; she’d accepted that it would never be the same again. She wasn’t sure if she was excited about it or dreading it, or both; but whatever the case, Monday was approaching and she found herself wanting to unravel the mystery of Samantha Crystan.

Chapter 9

When Nick left The Crow on Friday, he waded towards his car. His eyes were fixed to the ground and he didn’t look up once. His head ached as he tried to find answers.

What does Grendel Manor have to do with my mum’s disappearance?

At the thought of his mum, his heart twanged but then he felt normal again; well, not normal, more like numb.

He climbed into his car. It took a few attempts to get the thing started. He drove to the petrol station and fuelled ten pounds worth.

When the cashier asked for the money, he found himself searching a practically empty wallet. He’d thought he had a note, but then remembered that he broke into it to buy the orange juice at The Crow.

He used his card instead, thinking that going a bit further into overdraft wasn’t going to hurt much.

It was cold throughout his house when he arrived home. He hugged his own arms and waited for a readymade Chicken Tikka Masala to microwave. He ate as much as he could and then holed up in his bed to warm up.

It was like his thoughts and feelings were out of reach, but he didn’t exactly want to feel or think, because he wasn’t sure if it would be too much to bear.

Eventually, he began to cry.

Thoughts came to mind about when his mum disappeared: Monday the 3rd of February 2003. At first, Nick and his family didn’t grieve because they were waiting for her return, but his dad’s birthday wasn’t celebrated that year. It was hard to make merry two weeks after something like that. As a family they were more focused on finding her at that point. When it became more obvious that she wasn’t going to show up, Nick started to grieve, assuming the worst.

At first, Nick’s dad didn’t tell him about the money she’d taken. When he did tell him, Nick didn’t know how to feel. He’d wanted hope that she was coming home and he didn’t want to believe that she was dead, so all he could do was summarise that she took out the money to start a new life elsewhere.

It made sense now that she had somehow died. He couldn’t remember her acting strangely before she disappeared. She was the loving mum that he’d always known her to be. She had no apparent reason to want a new life.

He shoved away his memories. He hated that he’d spent most of the last eight or nine years resenting her for leaving. There were still holes though; why did she take the money out? What happened to her car? Also, she could have died at any point between her disappearance and now.

He brought himself out of the memories. He cried on and off with a mixture of guilt for the woman who fell and sadness at knowing his mum was truly dead.

When he fell asleep, he slept like a rock.

*

He arrived at his dad’s house the next day. He knocked, and Tommy answered the door.

‘Alright?’ Tommy asked, his large frame blocking the doorway.

‘Yeah, thanks,’ Nick said. Tommy sidled out the way, ‘Where’s Dad?’  he asked, walking inside.

‘He’s makin’ us food.’ Tommy nodded towards the kitchen.

Nick felt how warm it was inside the house, took off his jacket and hung it in the hallway. He hadn’t visited in a few months but everything looked the same as he’d remembered.

Tommy had Nick’s old bedroom now. Tom and Tommy used to share a room with a bunk bed before Nick moved out, but they were a lot younger then.

The house was spotless. He eyed the furniture that used to be so familiar to him. He felt relief envisioning a life of no bills, no mortgage, no washing up, no ironing, and no food shopping, and in that moment, he missed living there and having everything so easy.

Then he brought himself back down to earth.

He found his dad, John Crystan, in the kitchen laying out some plates on the worktop. Whatever he was cooking smelt remarkable; a warm, commingled and engaging aroma.

‘Hi, Dad.’

‘Hello, Nicolas,’ John awkwardly wiped his hands on a tea towel and gave his son a hug. John released him and moved back, his eyes danced about, aimed down at the floor. His back was arched. Without looking up, he said, ‘You look well.’ then shuffled to the oven and adjusted some knobs.

‘Thanks, you too, I’m going to say hi to Tom, is he upstairs?’

‘Err, yes, in his room.’ John half-turned towards him, didn’t quite give eye contact.

Nick ran up the stairs in the manner of someone who knew the staircase well, then knocked on Tom’s bedroom door. Tom opened it, smiled at the sight of his older brother, and automatically hugged him. Nick found himself thinking why Tommy never greeted him with a hug.

I suppose he’s to coooool for that.

Tom didn’t have the muscular frame that Tommy did but they looked almost identical in every other respect.

Nick thought his brothers were more handsome than he was and could see why all the girls swooned around them.

‘You coming downstairs, Tom?’

‘Yeah, is food ready?’

‘I think it’s almost done, Dad didn’t say. You been alright?’

‘Yeah, Halloween was good; I didn’t get to go to The Burning Grounds this year though.’ Tom pulled a disappointed face, ‘But I can go at any time. I just like going there on Halloween.’

Nick hadn’t been to The Burning Grounds for a while now, but he knew that Tom loved to go there. Tom would go every year on Halloween, but if you didn’t get there early enough then you weren’t likely to get in. To preserve The Burning Grounds a limited number of people were allowed in per day.

‘Did you go around Eradon Lake instead?’ Nick asked.

‘Yeah, you know me; I like going places, and thinking. I usually sit and look at the stone platforms where the witches were burnt and listen to my iPod. I walked around the lake instead.’

The Burning Grounds was near Eradon Lake which was another attraction for tourists. It was in the centre of the island and in the 16th century, when the stone platforms were built, people living on the island used it as a fresh water supply.

From the hills in the north above Chanton, Aberfin River flowed into Eradon Lake which sourced two other rivers; Nova River that passed Etherby and the village of Beade to the south and the Lynn River that flowed through Amiton. Both rivers went out to the Celtic Sea.

‘I’m sure you’ll go to The Burning Grounds another time. I might come with you actually, I haven’t been in ages.’

‘Awesome. Let’s go downstairs, I’m hungry.’ Tom said and nodded. He wore a black baggy hoodie and skinny jeans which created a top-heavy effect, but it suited his slim frame.

Nick started for the stairs.

Remembering something, he stopped and opened a door upstairs first. When he peeked inside, he sighed at the sight of piled up boxes, a dusty computer desk and various junk that crammed the room. He turned to Tom and asked,
‘Dad still hasn’t moved back into that room?’

‘You know what he’s like.’ Tom gave an understanding shrug.

Nick shook his head in resignation, and after plodding back down the stairs, he and Tom settled at the dining table with Tommy.

He observed how one of the chairs was an odd-one-out at the table that usually dined for three. John brought the food and set it down.

They began eating. Nick asked his brothers how college was going. Tommy bragged about how much he loved it, but Tom wasn’t so enthusiastic.

‘Are you still dating Sophie? Was it Sophie?’ Nick asked Tommy.

‘Sophie? Yuh mean Stacey?’ he rumbled a laugh.

‘Yeah, Stacey.’

‘Nah, I ain’t seen her for weeks. I’m with Chloe now.’ Tommy said proudly. ‘But I got with Jade and Kerry after Stacey anyway.’ Tommy threw the names out there as if Nick knew these random women, ‘Stacey don’t talk to me no more. She got with my mate to get back at me, yuh know Brendan?’

‘Oh yeah,’ he nodded along.

‘Yeah, he’s a twat; they hooked up the week I dumped her.’ Tommy’s eyebrows came together as an angry twosome. ‘But I don’t care anyway, Chloe’s way better than her. And I got with Jade that week and she’s mates with Stacey.’ he smiled, full of himself.

‘I can’t keep up with your personal life, Tommy. But at least I don’t feel so bad about forgetting Stacey’s name now.’ Nick laughed and Tom snickered too.

‘Shut up,’ Tommy retaliated, ‘just cause you two ain’t gettin’ any!’

Nick felt awkward at the use of the term ‘getting any’ in front of his dad, and Tom seemed embarrassed too.

‘I’m not looking.’ Nick replied.

‘And I’m staying single for a while.’ was Tom’s excuse.

Tommy laughed to himself, ‘Whatever.’

After that, Tom started talking about films that he wanted to lend to Nick, but Tommy didn’t seem to know any of the films.

Nick found himself impressed at how much Tom had changed over the years. When he used to live with them, the twins were so alike. Possibly with Nick out the house, it gave Tom more room to be himself or maybe it was because he had a separate bedroom to his twin now.

Whatever the reason, Nick was pleased and found it much easier to relate with Tom now.

John kept his head down and stayed quiet for most of the meal. Nick was hoping that his dad would offer some input. He grew disappointed when he didn’t.

He observed how much greyer his dad’s hair was compared to the last time he saw him, and the way his skin had begun to droop in places. He’d never seen much resemblance between his dad and his brothers or himself. John had green eyes, the twins had brown. John’s hair was fair and mousey (and greying), the twins had dark hair.

He could see his mum’s face in the twins, and thought that it must be hard for his dad to see the resemblance every day.

Once the food was gone, he sat heavy and stuffed; he hadn’t eaten so much in a long time.
The lingering smell was coaxingly sweet before, but now it repelled his glutted belly.

While John took the empty plates away, Nick thought about Tom and what his personal matter might be. It crossed his mind that Tom could know something about their mum’s disappearance. Maybe that was what he wanted to talk about? But then, how could he know anything? The temptation to ask jumped around in his head, but he decided that impatience was a bugger and he should learn to wait.

Incipient frustration; the annoyance of how quiet his dad was, mixed with a heavy guilt in knowing about his mum.

He yearned to tell his family, She’s dead, Dad, you can stop waiting for her to come back, but he couldn’t tell them anything. They would ask how he knew. I saw the future and saved a woman who now sees ghosts, and Mum appeared to her. Hmmm, not such a good idea.

He would have to wait until he knew exactly how she died. John placed a jug of orange squash in the centre of the table then passed some glasses around. He sat back down at the table, silent again.

‘How’s work?’ Tom asked Nick.

John looked up with sudden interest.

‘It’s okay. Halloween was good. I just wish I had more hours, or better pay.’ he answered with a drubbed laugh.

‘Do you need some money?’ John interrupted.

‘No, Dad, I was just saying. It was easier when I had a full time job.’

‘Have you got enough to pay your bills?’

‘I can manage.’ Nick said defensively.

‘I’ll see what I’ve got in my wallet…’ John stuttered and began fumbling into his trouser pocket.

‘No. Dad, stop it, I don’t need it.’ he said firmly, gesturing for John to cease. John ignored him, pulled some notes from his wallet and handed them across the table.

Tom and Tommy shuffled awkwardly. They kept out of it.

Nick pushed his dad’s hand away,

‘I said stop it!’ he shouted. His body buzzed, irritated, he couldn’t stay still.

‘I don’t mind, Nicolas, we’ve got plenty. I can give you more if you need it.’

‘I said no.’

‘I want you to have it. Just take it please.’ he extended his note-filled hand again.

Nick’s blood boiled. He pushed the hand away.

‘You’re the reason I moved out in the first place. You’re the reason I don’t have any money. If you weren’t so weird about Mum, I wouldn’t have moved out yet.’ he saw a snippet of pain run across his dad’s face, but he continued anyway, ‘You haven’t even moved back into your old bedroom. The office is too small for you to sleep in.’ He bawled, pointing up towards the ceiling.

‘Nick, you’re outta line.’ Tommy interrupted, his voice deep.

Nick stopped and caught his breath. Tommy looked mad. Tom just looked upset.

Bringing his hands to his forehead, Nick closed his eyes and turned quiet for a moment.

‘Sorry. Sorry, Dad.’ then he stood and moved away from the table, ‘I’m going to leave now. Thank you for dinner.’

John nodded and mumbled gently, ‘That’s okay, I’ll see you soon.’

His dad’s submissive reaction annoyed Nick some more, but he walked down the hallway and grabbed his jacket.

Tom came up behind him,
‘Can I still come speak to you at yours soon?’ he asked Nick in a hushed voice.

‘Yeah.’

‘Thank you.’

Nick left the house and sulked to his car. He knew not to drive when he was distressed. He thumped the steering wheel repeatedly and let out an angry wail. It helped. Although now his throat was raw and tasted bloody, he felt better expressing his anger.

He drove around the corner, and once he arrived home, he ran a shower and washed himself, scrubbing hard to rinse away the shame.

The shower left him alert, and that was the last thing he desired. He just wanted to go to sleep and have Monday arrive. He contemplated why he didn’t suggest visiting Grendel Manor on Sunday as he wasn’t doing anything tomorrow.

Having forgot it was Bonfire Night, the fireworks and his thoughts kept him up for a long stretch, but sleep always won in the end.

Chapter 10

Why would anyone like me?

Juliet stopped typing and closed the laptop lid. She was on the sixth assignment out of ten. Deficiencies and disorders was the topic.

Sundays were the day that she allowed for her Diet and Nutrition home-study course and she’d whizzed through it so far, but today she struggled.

Don’t say that, Juliet, you’re way prettier than most girls and you’re intelligent.

She put the laptop away, flopped onto the sofa, and laid on her back, eyes closed. She tried to relax, but she kept having thoughts about Nicolas.

He was definitely attractive; he was tall, dark and handsome. Those boxes were ticked. But, she also thought that he came across almost immature, maybe a few years younger than her.

Her ex had been older. That was the only real attraction. She felt guilty for thinking it, but she didn’t like the thought of having to support someone less mature.

It doesn’t matter anyway; I just want to help Samantha Crystan. I’m not interested in getting to know him.

With some fidgeting, she turned over and tried to take a nap on the sofa. Maybe she’d wake up refreshed and ready to take her study seriously. She liked to exceed in everything she took on. Even though this course was a giant step down levelwise, she liked to continuously educate herself. She would hate to stagnate. After her parents moved away, left her the house and bought her the café, she studied for a degree through distance learning. It was a Business Studies degree with specialisms in Catering and Hospitality; she attended part-time classes at Amiton College for the practical elements of the modules. At the age of eighteen, she balanced full-time study with running Chanton Hillview and adapting to living alone. She completed her degree within three years and achieved a First-Class Honours.

The sofa cushions grew warm with her body heat. She started to drift off, then an idea leaped into her head. How had she not thought of it before? She had the ability to see spirits and talk to them; she could see her grandmother again.

She sat back up and faced forwards. ‘Gran?’ she called out.

Nothing happened.

‘Gran, I miss you.’ she said more forcefully. ‘I’d like to see you again.’

Not a movement. She lumped back down on the sofa, frustrated. Why had other spirits appeared to her, but now she couldn’t even summon one of her choice?

If her soul really was in the Otherworld, as Tamara had said, then was her soul with her grandmother’s soul? Tamara had mentioned a Spiritworld as well, are souls and spirits separate? For the first time, Juliet positively wanted to know more about her ability. Are souls eternal? Do I see people’s souls or is a spirit something else, like a leftover of someone’s life?

She became irritated again, she yearned to know more but she didn’t want to ponder it. Pondering spiritually, the paranormal or anything related was not something she’d ever done before. You live, you die. That was all she believed in before the incident.
Now she didn’t know what to believe, but she’d begun to realise that a spiritual side existed.

I don’t want to think about it now.

Cosy, wrapped in a slumber, her mind drifted to images of Nicolas at The Crow. His hazel brown-green eyes were captivating, but then it was hard to appreciate them with the dead woman sat a few tables away. Juliet removed Rowena from her dozy-dream… imagined Nicolas’s face again.

She sprung up a sudden, opened her eyes.

What is wrong with me?

This was ridiculous; her cheeks flamed, embarrassed? At school, she’d pitied the other girls who laboured to function without their boyfriends, and the ones who fell head over heels at first sight. She recalled one girl who talked nonstop about her ‘soul mate’ as if her mind was plagued: a nidus of glorified images about a boy; he makes me complete; I’d do anything for him; I can’t live without him; he’s the one.

They were pathetic.

But now, Juliet couldn’t stop thinking about Nicolas.

Maybe I can feel that way about someone?

She laughed aloud, but she was too contrary to feel pleasant.

There was excitement and dread about Grendel Manor, and that was enough to think about, but now there was a possible infatuation towards a guy she hardly knew.

Am I infatuated? I’ve never felt this way before.

‘He saved you.’

Juliet screamed. She was so deep in thought; the sudden voice frightened her. She turned her head and found Rowena Howard stood behind the sofa.

‘Don’t feel guilty.’ Rowena said in a wispy voice.

‘How do you know what I’m thinking or what I’m feeling?’ It hurt to talk after shrieking so loud. Her throat tasted bloody. She braced; the spirit could have come for revenge. Could spirits harm the living?

‘I see things differently now, or maybe not now.’

Rowena’s spirit wore a dark green velvet robe, wrinkled, covering her legs and feet. Around her neck and resting between her breasts, she wore a necklace. It was silver and had two crescent moons on either side, facing opposite directions to one another. In the centre was a clear, circular gemstone that Juliet thought was meant to represent a full moon.

Juliet wondered why spirits were clothed at all. Did they appear in the clothes that they died in or did they chose their apparel?

‘How did you die?’ Juliet asked.

The air surrounding the spirit vibrated noticeably faster. It shimmered and twitched.

‘I was stood by the wall in the upper grounds. I looked out at the view from up there. I thought I heard sounds, like metal crunching, but there was nothing. I sensed something, an invisible force that was approaching me fast. Then it threw me over the edge.’

Rowena walked casually around the downstairs living room. She stroked her ghostly hands across the furniture. It seemed to glow a little with her touch.

‘I’m so sorry.’ Juliet shook her head. ‘I was meant to die. Not you.’

‘It’s okay. Now my body is dead, I’m not sure the deities I worshipped were real.’ The spirit laughed and it had a ringing echo to it.

Juliet figured that Rowena was a Pagan (of some form) in life, so she could have worshipped many gods? Juliet really didn’t know much about any religions… at all.

‘You’re happy that you’re dead?’

‘Does it matter? I can’t do anything about it. I spent my life constantly wanting more, never being content with what I had. Now I see things clearly.’

‘Why did you mention Nicolas saving me?’

‘Because you two belong together. I see that.’

‘I barely know him. We’ve only just met.’ Juliet wasn’t one for romance stories. She didn’t believe in soul mates: she believed in freedom of choice.

‘You don’t trust in a reason for your being saved?’ Rowena asked in a rhetorical manner.

‘Things don’t happen for a reason. They just happen. The only things that make a difference are hard work, determination, trying your best. If you want to do well, that is.’

Rowena didn’t reply, but instead, she smiled and gave a genial shrug of her shoulders.

Juliet compressed her lips. She looked down in thought. Then she said, ‘What did you mean when you said, “I see that”? How could you know?’

‘I’d say… windows, overlapping. Fragments, reflections. I was adopted. I didn’t even know.’

‘You’re talking gibberish.’ Juliet frowned, ‘Where are you? Are you in the Otherworld? Do you know where my soul is?’

‘I don’t know where I am.’ apathetically, she replied.

‘What about my soul?’

‘I’ve never seen a soul.’ she shrugged again. ‘Juliet, I’m ready to move on.’

‘Move on? What do you mean? Move on to where?’

‘I don’t know.’

An unknowable panic came over Juliet. She’d hoped for clearer answers from Rowena, a better understanding, but this spirit didn’t appear to know much at all. She could apparently see things clearly now, but she didn’t know where she was or where she was going.

‘Can I do anything for you?’ Juliet asked, hastily, ‘Pass a message onto your family or something?’ She wanted to do anything to lighten her guilt.

‘Everything is as it should be.’

The spirit of Rowena began to come apart at the edges. She started to dissipate, particles floated in every direction. The tiny pieces absorbed into the furniture, the floor, the ceiling: became a part of everything. Or did they pass through it all and disappear? Move on to another reality?

Juliet squirmed as the fragments tingled through, against and into her skin, maybe becoming part of her. The room zinged with a potent energy. Rowena fell away into wavering bits of a spirit body. Surfaces gleamed, and Juliet thought she could hear the gentle tinkling of bells, calling for Rowena.

Eventually there was nothing left, yet Juliet sensed a strange closeness to the spirit, like they were one, part of the same nothingness and part of everything.

Rowena Helen Howard smiled the whole time that she dispersed. There was no way of telling how long it took; time didn’t seem to matter. Juliet came close to tears at the beauty of it. It comforted her to know that spirits could ‘move on’; they weren’t forever stuck in some kind of limbo spirit world.

But even the magic of the moment didn’t convince her of Rowena’s words. You two belong together. How could she know that?

Chapter 11

The house chores that should have been done throughout the week turned out to be a pleasant pastime for Sunday.

As Nick cleaned the house, he thought about Juliet, as he ironed his clothes, he thought about his ability to see the future and if he would ever gain control of it, as he washed the dishes, he thought about how unreasonable he’d been the night before.

He figured that the only way to make up for how he acted towards his dad would be to find out the truth about his mum’s death. He tried to bring forth what he already knew about Grendel Manor. It wasn’t a lot. People told stories about the place, but their tales never matched up.

As far as he knew, there was just one man living at the manor. Some thought the place was haunted. There were tales of people going there but having no recollection of it, and also one story of a keen businessman who after visiting the manor, closed down his business and gave his money away to strangers in the street.

The finer details were unknown to Nick, but then it was only gossip. Far-fetched gossip.

The mystery surrounding Grendel Manor didn’t instil much faith in him but there was no way he would back out now.

Another thing on his mind was how he’d taken Juliet’s story of his mum without any doubts at all. He’d trusted her simply because he’d seen the future, and to him that made her phenomena possible. She could be up to anything, he thought. If she was telling the truth, then were there other people with her ability?

His world felt larger all of a sudden. There could be people with all kinds of abilities; telekinesis, telepathy, pyrokinesis, sixth sense, psychic healing, astral projection. Or even other beings, not entirely human.

Whatever could be out there, he really wanted to trust Juliet. He thought she was beautiful and that there was something different about her. Well, obviously; she saw ghosts. But that wasn’t what he meant.

It had been ages since he’d liked any one, he’d dated someone for a few weeks about a year ago, but he never liked her much and she didn’t seem interested either.

In his life, he’d only ever had one long term relationship; it was awful, mostly. He was seventeen and her name was Kerra Evans. They were together on and off for almost two years.

He never trusted her, he was afraid that he wasn’t good enough and that she would leave him for someone else or simply because she was bored of him. His insecurities led to arguments again and again. Later in the relationship, Kerra cheated on him with his best friend at the time, Alex Campbell, but he stayed with her because he thought he deserved as much.

He just didn’t want to lose her.

A few months later, Kerra cheated on him again. They argued and she told him that he had pushed her away; that she wanted to love him but he never let her.

They decided to split up and Nick felt down for a long while. He found himself crying a lot in his spare time and he hated being at home around his dad. Both things were too much to handle together, so that’s when he moved out.

Living away from his dad was supposed to help him feel better, but he still cried often; each time it felt like the end of the world. He spoke with his doctor who referred him to see Caroline and he’d being seeing her since.

He didn’t get depressed much anymore but he kept seeing Caroline; he was enjoying the self-development side of it. Even with the improvement in mood though, there wasn’t much meaning to his life and he wanted something bigger and better, but then he had the vision.

Things were changed now; there was meaning, he was different, he was special.

On Monday morning, he drove to Chanton. His Vauxhall Corsa made unpleasant sounds that did not give him confidence. It took almost fifteen minutes to get there, and Juliet was waiting where she’d said she would be. She wore black wedge boots, navy skinny jeans and a thick black jumper.

Nick was wearing a thin hooded black jacket that he’d had for years, a plain blue Primark tee-shirt, dark jeans and his black winkle-pickers.

Pulling up on the side of the road, he rolled down the window and waved Juliet’s attention. She spotted him and hastened towards the car. She opened the door and sat in the passenger’s seat.

‘Hi.’ Nick said, but before she could reply, there was a loud clunk.  A crow had landed on the bonnet. Juliet yelped and put her hand to her heart. The crow looked through the windshield, cawed at them and then flew out of sight.

‘Well… that’s a good start to the day.’ Nick said morbidly.

Juliet laughed and it brought a smile to Nick’s face. They caught each other’s eyes and then Juliet looked ahead to the road.

‘Are we ready to go?’ she asked, looking out of the window as if they were already moving.

‘I’m ready if you are.’

‘I’m ready.’

Nick didn’t speak at first, and neither did she. Chanton was at the northeast of the island, and Nick knew that Grendel Manor was somewhere to the northwest.

Juliet sat with her hands together, rested on top of her knees which were brought together too. Nick thought she looked like she didn’t want to touch anything in the car. Or maybe she felt uncomfortable.

He’d cleaned the car that morning so that she wouldn’t drown in rubbish or suffocate in the stale musk of an unclean car.

‘Are you a Wiccan?’ she asked out of nowhere.

‘No, are you?’

‘No.’

Nick fell silent for a minute. He wasn’t sure if she was trying to make conversation or not.

‘Why?’ he asked.

‘You work in a crystal shop. I thought maybe you were into that kind of thing.’

‘I know a few people who are. My manager and another colleague are in a coven together. Most Wiccans I know are really nice.’

‘I don’t properly know any, but there are a lot of them on this island. I don’t believe in magic or psychic abilities… Well, I didn’t believe in anything like that until you saved my life. I don’t know what I believe now.’ she stayed with her eyes gazing out of the windows, even when Nick turned, trying to catch them.

‘I looked into becoming a Wiccan in the past.’ he started, ‘It seems like a nice religion; they are accepting of other people’s beliefs and it’s all earth-based. Some people think that it’s devil worship and casting spells on people, but it’s really not like that.’ he stopped talking and focused on the road.

They had come to a narrow bridge which crossed the Aberfin River. It was only wide enough for one car, so he slowed down to ensure that no vehicles approached from the other direction. He noticed a red car in his rear mirror. It had driven behind him for a while but when he stopped to cross the bridge, it pulled over and put on its hazard lights.

He drove over the bridge cautiously then continued what he was saying.

‘You do get people who say they are Wiccans or Witches, and they do those kinds of things, like trying to hex people. But they’re usually just wannabes or they want power of some sort. Most Wiccans believe that you can do whatever you want as long as it harms no one, and something like… whatever you do comes back to you times three. So if you hurt someone, it will come back to you worse. Or if you give out positive energy, it will be returned times three.’

‘It sounds a bit far-fetched to me.’ she said and scratched behind her ear.

‘Says the woman who sees ghosts…’ he mocked, maybe flirtatiously.

She turned towards him as if to retaliate, but she didn’t. She pushed herself back into the chair to sit up straight then she crossed one leg over the other.

‘I suppose.’ she said. ‘But I’m not religious, and I’ve never been spiritual. If I hadn’t seen your mum’s spirit, I would have thought you were crazy telling people you saw the future.’ she said bluntly.

‘I might have thought you were crazy too, if I hadn’t had any visions. And anyway, you’re the only person that I’ve told.’ he smiled and turned to observe her reaction.

‘Really? Why haven’t you told anyone else?’

‘Who would believe me? And also, you ran off after the incident. No one knew that you were there. I don’t think the drunk driver even saw you. If I told people I saw the future and saved a woman’s life, they would think I had delusions of grandeur; imagining a woman into existence for me to be all heroic and save in the nick of time.’

She laughed quite hard and twisted to look at him, ‘I really am sorry about that. I should have stayed.’ then she relaxed her posture, though Nick sensed that laughter wasn’t something that came to her naturally.

‘I’ll let you off this time, but don’t run away next time I save your life.’ he teased.

She didn’t seem to take his attempt at flirtation too well, and went silent for a few minutes. Maybe she didn’t like him suggesting that she needed someone to save her life again. Maybe she wasn’t here to be flirted with. Maybe she didn’t like him full stop. Maybe she didn’t realise he was trying to joke with her. Maybe I’m overthinking this completely.

Then she asked, ‘How old are you?’

‘Twenty four, almost twenty five. You?’

‘I’m twenty five. Twenty six in December.’ she scanned his face, ‘You look younger than twenty four.’

‘Is that a bad thing?’

‘No, not really.’ Her voice wavered.

Nick had been driving almost ten minutes. He hadn’t seen any houses for a couple of miles, and the road only seemed to be going in one direction.

The red car from earlier appeared in Nick’s mirror view. He thought it was odd, so he signalled and pulled up on a muddy side, observing the red car’s reaction.

It mimicked his behaviour, slowing then stopping. It kept its distance. He twisted and gave it a hard stare through the back window. He couldn’t make out who was in the driver’s seat.

‘What’s going on, Nicolas?’ Juliet asked, turning to see what he squinted at.

‘I think we’re being followed.’

She pulled a face of disbelief, ‘Why would anyone follow us?’

‘I’m not sure, but I’ve seen the red car behind us twice now, and every time that I’ve slowed down, it’s copied me and stayed well behind or pulled over completely.’

Juliet looked about to respond, but Nick heard something approaching fast. The red car had started up and it roared towards them. He panicked at first, thinking it planned to smash straight into his car, but it drove firmly to the side.

If someone’s following me then they can catch up and show themselves.
He felt ridiculous; why would anyone tail him like this?

The car slowed as it neared. Nick finally glimpsed the driver: it was Alan. In his passenger’s seat was the tall man who’d tried to punch Nick at Creaky Crystals, in the back was the greasy-haired thief-lady.

Alan pulled his car in front of Nick’s to block his way. Nick heard him kill the engine. Then all three stepped out of Alan’s car.

‘Wha...what’s going on, Nicolas?’ Juliet’s voice quavered, she looked to Nick for reassurance.

‘Erm, don’t worry, it’s just a colleague who’s annoyed at me. I’ll talk to him and sort it out.’ he replied, but his hands shook and betrayed the confident statement.

He shuffled out of his car and closed the door behind him.

‘Alan… what’s this all about?’ he asked, trying a reasonable, agreeable tone.

‘You know what it’s about.’ Alan growled back.

A gentle thud came behind Nick, and he realised that Juliet had also stepped out of the car.

The tall man still wore a black bomber jacket and the lady had greasy hair again. Alan, although rather chubby, charged for Nick. He took him by surprise and drove him to the ground.

Grit pressed into Nick’s face. Before he could do anything, spit hocked out of his mouth. Sharp pains hit his back repeatedly, digging into him. He curled up and covered his head to protect it from the blows.

He looked down at his stomach, and saw a foot kick into it. A puking sound broke out of him. He groaned in agony.

‘Stop!’ Juliet screamed.

The kicking went on. Nick tried desperately to shield up and defend himself. Hard shoes connected with his shins, back and arms. He didn’t dare to look up; they would only kick his face if he did. But he knew that Alan and the man in the bomber jacket were the ones attacking him.

He writhed on the bitter ground and closed his eyes, wishing for it to stop. He tried to shout, ‘Help!’ but it came out deflated.

He heard the short lady talking to Juliet in a strong accent, ‘Stay near car, no move!’

There was nothing he could do. If they continued, they would kill him, he could only wait and hope for the attack to stop. The frightening vision had come true, and he desperately wished that it would end well.

Chapter 12

‘Stay near car, no move!’ the woman screamed at Juliet, her face furious but with a hint of vulnerability. Juliet stood much taller than the lady, but did as she was told. Reflections of the white sky glinted on the knife. The woman’s hand gripped it so tightly that her knuckles were chalky and pronounced.

She pointed the blade at Juliet, fixing her in place.

What have I got myself into? Fear tingled over her skin, taking her strength away. She leant against the side of Nick’s car and held her hands at her side.

She looked at the woman’s pale and unclean skin. Then she stared at her mousey hair, oily and straggly across her forehead, and tussling her shoulders. There was desperation in her eyes, not malice. Juliet didn’t think the lady would shamelessly use the knife on someone, but even so, that didn’t reassure her.

A desperate person could be an extremely dangerous person.

Nick coughed violently. Juliet heard the thuds every time they kicked him. One of the men shouted, ‘You didn’t see anything. I need my job. Tell Mora about any of this and next time will be worse.’

The other man, tall with dark shaved hair, laughed in a simulated manner, like the approval of the fatter man meant the world to him.

Juliet wanted to scream for them to stop again, but it did no good the first time, so what was the point? The man shouting at Nick had said it would be worse next time. It was some reassurance at least that they didn’t intend to kill him. She just hoped they didn’t accidentally kill him and then have to silence her too.

She beamed at the two attackers, with hatred, then noticed a small figure stood by one of them. A young boy.

A shifting aura outlined the kid. He wore only white shorts but they were ruffled and stained. His bare skin was pallid and his feet were raw with dirt. She placed him at about eight years old when he must have died. The spirit looked saddened, staring at the chubby man who was booting Nick. Then the boy glided over to Juliet. He spoke to her.

She listened attentively.

When she’d grasped the spirit’s words, she yelled at the attackers, ‘Alan, that’s you isn’t it?’ she pointed at the rounder one. ‘Carl is upset. He doesn’t like seeing you this way.’

Alan stopped kicking Nick. He motioned to cut short the other man’s swing of his leg. ‘How do you know about Carl?’

‘He’s ashamed of you and what you’re doing.’ she ignored Alan’s question.

‘Nick must have told you about Carl. You can’t guilt-trip me, woman!’ he spat back.

‘He’s here now, talking to me and he’s watching what you’re doing. He’s telling me things. When he was at school, he told on a group of kids for stealing marbles from his best friend, Mark, and then Miss Andrews made them give the marbles back.’ she spoke as fast and clearly as possible.

Alan’s eyes steadily widened. The tall man beside him frowned confusedly, and the woman with the knife flicked her head back and forth between everyone.

‘Carl found you on his lunch break,’ she continued, ‘you were the year above him. He was frightened that the other kids were going to get him. That’s what he said to you: Alan, I’m scared, they’re going to get me after school!’ she rinsed out the eerie feeling of repeating the spirit word-for-word.

‘St…stop it. I don’t want to hear.’ Alan mumbled and sheepishly shook his head.

‘After school, the kids did come and they started to push Carl around. You scared them off and saved him from the bullies. But now Carl’s upset. You’re frightening him, just like those bullies did.’

‘Errm… eerrhh.’ Alan grumbled and twitched, ‘Let’s leave. Come on. Now.’ He gestured at the other assailant and the woman.

Before scrambling off, the greasy-haired lady gave Juliet a sharp leer and hissed, ‘Witch.’

The three of them shuffled into the red car. They were out of sight in no time. Juliet pivoted on the spot, searching for the spirit of Carl, but he was gone.

Nick uncovered his head. He rolled over onto his back, moaning. Slowly, he tried to stand up. As he stumbled, Juliet came to support him.

‘I’m sorry about this, Juliet.’ he wheezed.

‘Okay. Let’s just get back to the car and we’ll talk about it.’

She held onto him but he moved away proudly, ‘I’m okay. I can move about. It just hurts like hell. I’ll be bruised all over.’

Juliet didn’t reply but walked around to the passenger’s side of the car. She sat down and noticed sharp twisting pains by her heart. It must have ached from how much it raced. Thinking about what just happened, she wasn’t sure if Nick was the type of person she wanted to be around. What sort of actions did he take to warrant being followed and attacked like that?

Out in the middle of nowhere, it was silent now. No cars drove by, no houses were near, the road was bare, and the trees were statues. Nick sat with his hands covering his face.

‘You need to explain to me what that was all about.’ Juliet stated.

She heard Nick sniffle like he was crying, but couldn’t tell if he was or not. All she hoped was that he had a good explanation for why she was held at knifepoint.

Chapter 13

Embarrassment jangled about him. He didn’t want to show his face to her. He wasn’t crying, but the way he was shoved onto the floor and beaten was humiliating. Juliet would see him as a weak man, unable to stick up for himself.

Dropping his hands to his lap, he went to answer her question. The movement flared pain up and down his body.

‘Alan’s a colleague at work. Items were being stolen…’ he laid out the story of Alan’s thievery. His voice may have seemed whiney and strained or even desperate; he wanted her to know that he did the right thing and that’s what caused the attack.

Juliet appeared thoughtful. She didn’t speak at first, and while he waited for a response, he couldn’t help but think about Juliet’s ability. It had saved him from being further beaten. Having her tell him about it and actually seeing it in action were totally different. It reminded him of the sort of mediums on television, the ones who performed for live audiences and plucked out random ghost’s names and information.

Only, Juliet was much more exact and fluent than anyone he’d seen on the small screen.

Finally, she spoke, ‘It should have been your manager to deal with it.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘You didn’t tell your manager about it. It’s her store and her items. She had a right to be told about it.’

‘Erm, Alan has worked with her for years. I couldn’t just tell her.’ his eyes shifted, ‘She’d have been devastated.’

Juliet sighed, ‘You don’t have a right to coddle people like that. She can deal with her own problems like the rest of the world does.’

‘I was just…’

‘I know, I know.’ she interrupted and held up a flat hand. ‘I understand why you didn’t tell her. But as a manager myself, I would want my staff to tell me.’

‘Mmm, well, you’re not Mora.’

‘Look,’ she said sternly, ‘it’s better for someone to know the truth or else you’re depriving them of the chance to grow, and to learn in their own way. You think you’re protecting people, but it’s insulting to treat someone like a child when they’re not.’ Her voice had risen steadily, almost to a shout.

Nick was hurt. As mortifying as it was to be easily beaten up, this was worse. He’d assumed she’d understand.

For a long while it was silent until the tension noticeably lessened.

‘I’m sorry I got you involved in this.’ he said honestly.

With a half-smile, Juliet replied, ‘Okay. I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that, like you’re a child yourself. I know you’re not. It was your decision to make. I’m probably just on edge from having a knife waved at me.’

Nick chuckled but his bruises throbbed across his back and chest. Surprisingly, Juliet returned a gentle laugh. It reassured him.

‘Who was Carl?’ she asked in a relieved tone.

‘Carl was Alan’s brother. The whole time I’ve worked with Alan, he only mentioned him once. But Mora told me about what happened. It was summer, and Alan, Carl and their parents went to Eradon Lake. Alan and his brother went swimming in the lake. Alan was fine but Carl got his legs tangled in some weeds and drowned. I think he was only nine.’

Juliet’s face fell, she shook her head weakly, ‘That’s awful.’

‘I know.’ he said, but his mind drifted and thought about Alan. He felt sorry for him. If Alan was in a bad place or struggling with money, he didn’t have to resort to stealing. He had friends; Mora would have helped him out if he’d come to her. That was the most regrettable part. Maybe there were signs that Alan was on hard times, and Nick had simply failed to see them?

‘I feel weird now, knowing that I saw the spirit of a boy who died in such a sad way.’ Juliet moved her shoulders about, ‘Actually, I don’t know how to feel lately.’

‘I think you did a good thing.’ Nick offered. ‘What you can do is amazing.’

‘It’s also frightening.’

‘Yeah, I suppose it would be.’ he imagined ghosts appearing to him, and wasn’t sure how he’d react. ‘We should get back on the road.’

‘I agree.’

He began to drive again. His forearms ached where they’d taken the blows that were intended for his face.

A sign that read ‘Private Road’ came into view, and Nick assumed that it led to the manor.

He drove up the muddy path. It was a steep hill and he could see nothing from the bottom. His car embarrassingly churned and whined on their ascent.

When they reached the top, the manor could be seen in the distance.

‘Wow.’ he said.

‘This is the first time I’ve seen Grendel Manor.’ Juliet stated.

Grendel Manor was built in an Elizabethan style, although Nick knew that it was definitely less than a hundred years old. The manor was perfectly symmetrical, with enormous rectangular windows. There were four chimneys that protruded a grey slate roof. Ivy covered some of the golden walls, and there were surmounted rooms at the top, shaped by semicircles and spirals.

The weather was cold and dry; the sun’s weak effort to warm anything was offset by the strong wind on the northwest of the island. But the sun at least achieved a sublime glow on the manor walls.

As they drove down the private road, it meandered to the right and transformed into a gravel parking area. There were no other parked cars, but the gravel suggested that one had visited recently.

Nick thought it was strange how the manor wasn’t secured off in any form. He was expecting to come across a giant iron gate and a wall surrounding the perimeter, but there was nothing. Though, the hill featuring the private road offered some seclusion to the manor.

On the approach, he’d seen a mass of land behind the manor, a group of trees and beyond that, the cliff edge. It was like a private valley, with the hills surrounding and shielding the manor.

He parked the car, then the two of them got out. His body protested, yearning to rest. He pressed his eyes shut, hard, and ignored the hurt.

‘I hope someone’s in.’ he said and looked over at Juliet.

‘Me too.’ The wind played with her hair, she nodded and smiled politely.

Nick led the way; he passed through a foliage archway, and then found a chalky path with green grass either side in the front garden. Grendel Manor loomed taller with their approach.

Juliet kept distance from Nick and walked confidently, but allowed him to stay in front.

‘Whoa.’ expressed Nick. ‘This place is so big.’

Juliet gave a courteous glance towards the manor but didn’t say anything. Nick didn’t think she was impressed at all.

After using the heavy door knock a few times, they waited. A moment later, Nick heard movement from inside and then the large door swung open. The man at the door eyed them suspiciously.

‘Can I help you?’ he asked.

‘Hi, yeah, we just wanted to ask some questions if that’s okay?’ Nick said as reasonably as possible.

‘Of course. Would you like to come in?’ the man looked Juliet up and down, and then smiled.

Juliet gave Nick an uncertain look but he turned back to the man and answered,
‘Please. Thank you.’ He walked inside with Juliet following behind.

The entry hall was enormous with a staircase leading to an indoor balcony. To the left was an open cabinet with various ornaments on it, including a statue head of Alexander the Great. Portraits and art covered the walls, pictures of winged devils, horned beasts and headless angels.

The style indoors was Hellenistic, which Nick found odd after viewing the Elizabethan style from outside. He thought that maybe every room had a different theme; why not? The manor was certainly big enough.

A large iron chandelier hung metres above them. Nick tilted his head to look up at the ceiling.

‘I think this room is larger than my entire house.’ he said and laughed. When he smiled, the man gave him a curious look.

‘Hmmm. I designed everything. My name is Aldrich Grendel.’ he said eminently.

Nick noted how Aldrich’s name didn’t match his accent or his appearance. His English was good, but he had a muddled accent of some sort, possibly Egyptian Arabic mixed with other accents…? Nick really didn’t know and decided to quit guessing.

Aldrich’s skin was a light tan leather colour. His hair was deep mahogany and curly with a heavy fringe that rested to one side. He had dark eyebrows and shadowy stubble that shaped his masculine face.
His short frame was adorned with a tweed jacket and a burgundy jumper underneath, dark cord trousers and some tan brogues. He also sported a wooden cane with an oval brass head, although he didn’t seem to use it for support.

He looked to be in his mid-thirties, but he gave off a cultivated air of someone who’d seen many years.

‘I’m Nick, and this is…’ he gestured towards Juliet, but she cut him off.

‘I’m Juliet Maystone; it’s nice to meet you.’ she shook Aldrich’s hand.

‘How long have you lived here?’ Nick asked out of curiosity, trying to ease into the bigger question on his mind.

‘Why?’ Aldrich replied brusquely.

‘Oh, never mind, just curious.’

‘It’s none of your business.’

‘Erm, sorry, please forget I asked, it’s not why we came here anyway.’

‘I don’t care why you came here.’ he said with contempt. He looked at Nick quizzically, as if trying to place him.

‘Erm… have I offended you somehow?’ Nick asked.

Then Aldrich said, ‘I’m bored of this.’ he stared at Juliet, into her eyes and then did the same to Nick.

The stare was piercing, intimidating. It seemed to have a strange effect on Juliet; her posture slumped and she stood zombie-like.

‘Give me whatever valuables you have on you. Leave here. Forget this place.’ Aldrich said. He shifted his gaze from Nick to Juliet and back.

Nick’s heart quickened; he wasn’t sure if Aldrich was joking or not. He turned to see Juliet’s reaction. She reached into her pockets and brought out her mobile.

Her movements weren’t natural, she moved methodically, like she was sleep walking. She held out the mobile and walked towards Aldrich, offering it to him.

‘What are you doing to her?’ Nick shouted.

Aldrich jumped, and Juliet stopped her sleepwalk for a moment. She stood still. Aldrich looked at Nick fiercely, like he was studying his face. He even seemed a little frightened, maybe confused.

‘You!’ he pointed. ‘You should not have come here.’ He turned to Juliet and stared into her eyes again. ‘Kill your friend. Kill this Nick. Do it now.’ he ordered vehemently.

She pivoted slowly, she released her mobile and it bounced on the floor. When she looked up at Nick, her eyes were distant and uncaring. Then she charged towards him. He stepped backwards, but she was on him before he could do anything. She went for his throat, trying to strangle him. Her nails dug into his skin, drawing blood.

The pains of the previous attack swelled in the fumbling.

She developed a rage in her eyes; Nick could see that she wanted to kill him.

He didn’t want to hurt her, but he had to get free. He struggled to breathe as she tightened on his throat, then he brought his elbows up and wriggled his fingers between Juliet’s hands and his neck.

Managing to overpower her, he heaved in a breath. He used the anger his body had built up from all the pain it had already endured, and he pushed her hard. She fell backwards onto the floor, but he could see the determination in her eyes.

Aldrich looked panicked that Nick had got loose, but he stared at Juliet and shouted, ‘Kill him, kill him!’

Nick did the only thing he could think of.

He ran to the open cabinet, picked up the statue head of Alexander the Great and launched it at Aldrich. It smacked Aldrich in the side of his head. He fell. The statue head cracked on the floor beside him. Aldrich’s cane fell and clanked about, then rolled away from his body.

Juliet was still on the floor but she seemed dazed now.

‘Why am I down here?’ she looked up at Nick, ‘What happened?’ she stood up and then looked across at Aldrich on the floor. A small pool of blood formed around his head. ‘What happened to him?’

The thudding in Nick’s chest was overwhelmingly painful. It took him a moment to locate his voice. ‘We have to leave. Now!’ he said, his voice raspy from strangulation.

‘What? Shouldn’t we call an ambulance?’ she pointed at Aldrich’s body.

‘Trust me, we have to leave.’ Nick ran out the front door, and Juliet shuffled behind him. His bruises burnt with rapid blood coursing through him.

‘Why can’t I remember anything?’ she shouted, hurrying up the chalky path.

‘I’ll tell you in the car. We have to leave, please just come.’

He struggled unlocking the car door; his hands shook too much. Once inside, he waited for Juliet to get in, then drove back over the hill and down the private road, heading away from Grendel Manor.

‘Nick, slow down. You’re driving like a mad man.’ Juliet appealed.

Once they were over the hill and onto a public road, he slowed his driving. He instinctually drove towards Amiton, taking a different route from the way they came.

‘Where are we going?’ Juliet asked, ‘Please tell me what happened.’

‘Sorry, we just need to get away from there. I need to think.’

‘Pull over soon then please. I don’t feel safe; you shouldn’t drive like this.’

He drove for a couple more minutes and then found somewhere to pull over. Juliet looked at him, at his neck. Shock ran over her face.

‘What happened to your neck?’ she asked, and leant closer to see the damage. ‘Did Aldrich do that?’

‘Not exactly...’ he answered, and then looked in her eyes.

She appeared bemused; she looked down at her hands, then inspected her nails. There was dried blood under some of them. She gasped and began to cry.

‘I don’t understand. Did I do that to you? My hands ache and there’s blood under my nails. Look at the scratches on your neck.’ she said, her voice breaking up.

Nick began to explain what had happened. He put one hand on her shoulder and she didn’t seem to mind the physical contact. Her face went through a series of emotions when he described the way she handed over her phone obsequiously, and then went at him in a rage.

‘My phone, I left it there, I didn’t realise.’ she said.

‘Don’t worry, we’ll think of something.’ he replied, unsure.

Juliet closed her eyes and sighed. She kept going to say something, then she would stop, and think some more.

Then she asked, plainly, ‘So Aldrich can control people with his mind?’

‘I think so.’

‘How does he do that?’ her eyes squinted, horrified.

‘How would I know? How do you see ghosts? How did I see the future?’

‘But, what are we going to do now?’

‘I just need to think.’ he said. He tapped the steering wheel impatiently; waiting for lightning to strike, but nothing came to mind.

‘We have to go back there,’ said Juliet, ‘I left my phone there. He knows my name, and he knows you’re called Nick; you’re saved in my phone as Nicolas Crystan. If he can control people, then he could have us killed.’

‘I agree, but what if he gets you to attack me again?’ Nick asked, and saw a guilty look on her face.

‘I’ll stay out of the way. How come he couldn’t control you with his mind?’ she asked.

‘I don’t know…’ he thought about it, ‘It felt like his eyes were piercing into me, but it had no other effect.’

A car sped by and made him jump. He laughed at how jittery he was,  then tried to mentally relax. He said to Juliet, ‘I know we have to go back, because it must have something to do with my mum. I have to talk to Aldrich again.’

‘What if you killed him? You can’t ask him questions if he’s dead.’ Juliet said and winced.

‘But you can.’ he raised his eyebrows. Guilt flushed over him at the thought of turning an accidental murder into an advantage for him.

‘No, it doesn’t work like that. Spirits just seem to show up whenever they feel like it. I can’t summon them.’ she said, shaking her head.

‘I hope he’s not dead. I only did it to get you out of the trance you were in. It was all I could think of.’

‘I know. Looks like you saved me again.’ she laughed, and her eyes lingered on Nick’s for a moment.’

‘I think we’re missing out something. We can’t just go back like this.’ Nick began, ‘My mum tried to tell you something, didn’t she? I have to take something with me.’

‘Yeah, but she vanished before she could tell me what.’ Juliet said hopelessly. Nick saw her go mentally inwards, like she was thinking hard about something. She looked up at him with an expression that clearly meant: you’re-not-going-to-like-this.

‘Why don’t you use your ability?’ she asked.

‘What? I’ve never used it before. It’s like what you said about the ghosts. The visions come to me. I don’t know how I do it.
When I tried to use it before, it gave me a splitting head ache!’

‘But can’t you try? If you can see the future, then we’ll be one step ahead. What if he’s already sent someone after us? Please, Nick,’ she put her hand on his knee, ‘please try.’

He didn’t say anything. He thought about her hand on his leg and enjoyed it being there. It made sense what she was asking him to do, but he’d tried to have a vision before; it wasn’t that easy. He’d spent hours reading up on it, and meditating, mostly to no avail.

If he tried it now and let her down, then how awful would he feel? But then, what if Aldrich had sent someone after them? It would give them the upper hand if he knew the future.

‘What if there are repercussions?’ he asked, ‘I saved your life, but now you see ghosts, and that poor woman fell in the same place, was that just a coincidence? I had painful flashes relating to her death. Maybe I deserved the pain for messing with fate…’

He watched Juliet close her eyes at the mention of the woman who fell. When she opened them again, she said, ‘That woman appeared to me yesterday, she explained what happened, she doesn’t blame you. I’ll tell you about it another time. We’ll think about the repercussions when we need to, but for now we have to try something. What else can we do?’

‘Okay, I’ll try, but don’t expect anything to happen.’

He closed his eyes, squeezed them as hard shut as possible. He scrunched up his face and tried to think of the future. He held his breath and tensed his body. Nothing happened.

‘It’s not working.’ he said.

‘Relax, Nicolas, you look too tense.’

Trying a different method, he began to breathe deeply. He told himself not to worry, that it didn’t matter whether it worked or not.

Imagining himself sinking into the seat stilled him. Then he envisaged his whole body and mind being connected to everything. He saw his entire self as a tree, growing outwards; his branches and roots weaved into the world around him.

The relaxation was so deep that he lost the sense of where he was and what he was trying to do in the first place.

When he opened his eyes, he was no longer sat in his Vauxhall Corsa.

*

He walked through a foliage archway. He recognised it from Grendel Manor.

He turned around and saw three people trailing behind him. It was Juliet, Tom and Tommy. All three looked nervous.

This time he knew that it was a vision. It felt just as real as the first time, except that on the first occasion, he became so absorbed that he actually believed it was real, until he awoke from it. This time he simply watched through his own eyes.

He walked down the chalky path. Ahead of him the large front door of Grendel Manor was open: the way it had been left when he escaped with Juliet.

In a hushed voice, he said to Juliet, ‘Stay outside, we’ll go in and check.’

She nodded and stopped where she was. Nick walked inside and his brothers followed close by.

He found Aldrich where he had left him, on the floor with a small puddle of blood, the broken statue head, and Aldrich’s cane. Nick approached the body cautiously then used his fingers to check for a pulse.

Aldrich was alive.

*

He opened his eyes with a swift inhale.

‘Did it work?’ Juliet asked.

‘Yeah, I saw something.’

‘What did you see?’

‘I saw us go back to the manor. And I think I know what my mum was trying to say. She was saying that I must take my brothers with me. Maybe they are immune to Aldrich’s ability too? I saw them with us in the vision. We went back and the door was open, how we left it. I asked you to wait outside in case Aldrich tried his mind-thing on you again, and when I went inside, he was on the floor still. I checked his pulse. He was alive.’

Juliet looked relieved; she gently sighed.

Nick smiled at her and laughed awkwardly at the situation they were in. She looked at him, watched his eyes; he didn’t know what she was thinking, but she leant in closer to him.

He wasn’t sure if he read her body language wrong, but he looked from her eyes to her lips, then back to her eyes again. She pulled her gaze away from his, then allowed her stare to linger on his lips. Then she kissed him, and he kissed her back.

Chapter 14

What have I done?

She pulled away from the warmth of his lips. The kiss lasted no more than five seconds, and her ambivalence prevented her from fully enjoying it. It was a spur of the moment thing; she was never the first to go in for a kiss in her last relationship. He’d always been the one to initiate it.

Too much change was happening: the car incident, the spirits, and these new feelings towards Nicolas. She wanted to kiss him but she also didn’t want to.

As she pulled away, he looked nonplussed, and followed her with another kiss. She let him kiss her, and then gently pushed him back.

‘We need to go get your brothers.’ she said.

Nick huffed, amused, ‘Err, okay,’ he pulled out his mobile, ‘what was the kiss for?’ he asked.

‘I don’t know.’ she moved firmly back to the passenger’s side of the car, composed herself, but offered no more expansion on her answer.

In a strange sense, she felt violated: not by Nicolas, but by Aldrich. He invaded her mind, used her body and altered her memory. An eerie shiver bristled over her skin, thinking about it. Although she’d initiated the kiss with Nicolas, the intimacy felt like too much after being violated like that.

‘Okay… the twins might be at college, I’ll ring Tom.’ Nick’s phone was to his ear instantly. A moment later he said, ‘Tom, are you at home? Good, is Tommy with you? College? Why aren’t you at college? Actually, it doesn’t matter, could you call Tommy and tell him I’ll pick him up at the main entrance in about ten or fifteen minutes? I’ll come get you straight after that.’  he paused, his eyes shifted in thought, ‘It’s important. Don’t say anything to Dad. It’s about Mum. I can’t explain now. Thank you, thank you.’

Juliet was impressed at the speed and painlessness of the phone call. She imagined that if she were to call Kim in that manner, that Kim would flood her with questions.

Nick started up the car and was back on the road in no time.

‘What are you going to tell them?’ Juliet asked sensibly.

‘My brothers?’

‘Yes, and did I hear correctly, are they called Tom and Tommy?’ she added.

‘Ha, yeah they are, it used to be difficult to tell them apart, but it’s easier now. Tommy is the larger, muscular one and Tom is the slim one. I’m not sure what to tell them, but I know what we definitely can’t tell them.’

‘And what’s that?’

‘We can’t tell them about our... erm, abilities. They’ll think we’re pulling their legs, or that we’ve gone insane.’ he said in a practical voice.

‘But what will you say about Aldrich? You have to warn them, else we’re putting them in danger. They’re going to notice the marks on your neck.’

She rubbed under her nails in an attempt to flake off and smudge the dried blood. The idea that she could have done that to him, bruised and cut his neck, well actually, the fact that she did do that to him made her stomach churn. I don’t remember anything.

She’d never laid a hand on anyone before. She’d wanted to once, years ago, when some girls at school bullied her for being wealthier than them. She’d heard most the names growing up: rich-bitch, spoilt cow, snotty, more-money-than-sense, stuck-up. But these girls were particularly nasty.

Violence wasn’t the answer though; Juliet’s parents had respect and they didn’t gain it through violence, so Juliet’s ‘retaliation’ was to state that she didn’t care what those girls thought and that she’d never stoop to their level of bullying. She was better than them; they were simply stupid, jealous girls.

Nick appeared to be cogitating.

‘We’ll tell them about Aldrich, but then they’re still going to think we’re crazy.’ he said; he sounded fed up like he just wanted the situation to be resolved already. ‘I’ve already told Tom that it’s about Mum, so they know it’s important and they will want to come with us, but they won’t believe about Aldrich unless they see it for themselves.’

‘We don’t want that to happen.’ Juliet made clear, ‘Hopefully they are immune to his ability like you are.’

‘I think that’s what my mum was trying to tell you.’

The route that Nick took towards Amiton was different to the way they came. He drove south past the small hamlet of Willow, and on their right was Eradon Lake.

Juliet looked across at the water surface. There were dour grey clouds hanging above the lake, preventing most reflections on the water, causing it to appear deep, dark and sullen. The lake had a surface area of almost four miles and it took a few minutes to drive clear of it. Nick drove over a bridge that crossed the Nova River and headed southeast.

Juliet almost suggested that they visit Tamara Trewin. Maybe she could help them. But she soon found many reasons why it was a bad idea: Tamara might be in the middle of an appointment, Juliet was rude on her exit when she visited, Tamara could be susceptible to Aldrich’s ability, and how would they convince her to come along anyway? And what could she do? She claimed to be a powerful witch (and all her other titles) so Juliet thought that maybe she could help in some form. After all, she was right about Juliet being displaced. But then, it wasn’t Juliet’s decision on who to bring with them; it was Nick’s car and his mum’s past they were trying to figure out.

‘Do you mind that I invited myself along to all of this?’ she asked. ‘I’ve just realised that it isn’t my business what happened to your mother, and you might not want me present when or if you find out.’

Nick seemed to really think before answering, ‘My mum appeared to you as a ghost. She affected your life and made it your business.’ he paused, cleared his throat and continued, ‘I feel like I can trust you, and I’m happy for you to figure out this mystery with me. But I understand if you don’t want anything to do with it. I don’t know what we are getting ourselves into. I’ve already assaulted a man.’

Juliet thought she saw guilt on his face, ‘It wasn’t your fault.’ she consoled. ‘I want to go back to the manor with you. I can’t avoid the changes that have happened to me. I see spirits and I’m going to make the best out of the situation that I can.’

When they reached Amiton College, Nick pulled up on a curb by the entrance. Other students huddled about in small groups and walked aimlessly by. Some glanced over, unimpressed at Nick’s decision to park there, but most were indifferent.

The building that featured the main entrance was Victorian style. It had red bricks, (slightly yellowed) white window frames, and to one side, a gothic clock-tower piercing high above all else. The rest of the college was made up of more modern builds and even a stack of unflattering mobile-classrooms.

Juliet had attended Amiton College and achieved a diploma in Business, but not at this campus. There was another campus, a smaller one, in the upper grounds of Amiton town centre. She’d also studied the practical elements of her degree at that establishment.

She’d had a good experience there, respected the college, and made a couple of friends along the way. She turned eighteen at the time she completed her diploma, and that is when her parents bought her Chanton Hillview café and moved to Marbella.

A brawny youth came from the direction of the mobile-classrooms and headed towards the entrance. Juliet observed how he walked with attitude, a manly strut, swagger, it gave a clear message: don’t mess with me. The youth didn’t look unkind, but more along the lines of cocky.

She recognised shapes in his face, some attractive traits.

‘Is that Tommy?’ she asked, loosely pointing in the brawn’s direction.

‘Ah, yeah, that’s him. I’ll go get him.’ Nick got out the car and ran over to Tommy. Juliet watched Nick move; he went fast, but stoically. She saw him exchange a few words with his brother, but couldn’t hear from inside the car.

They marched over and Nick opened the door, levered the driver seat forward, then Tommy squeezed into the back of the car. He looked uncomfortably large sat in the back.

‘Alright?’ Tommy asked, as Nick repositioned his seat and got back in.

‘Hello, I’m Juliet Maystone.’

‘Tommy.’ he replied with a shrug. Juliet smiled, somewhat wearily.

‘I’ll drive home to get Tom now.’ Nick said. ‘Why wasn’t he at college anyway? You’re on the same course, aren’t you?’ he asked, twisting to face his brother.

‘I dunno, I think he don’t like it nowadays. Always skips classes and stuff. Should do summin like art or whatever, not construction.’

Juliet hated Tommy’s manner of speaking. She also marked how different his voice was to Nick’s.

Tommy had a deep, sonorous sound, but Nick’s voice was softer, gentler. Nick’s was rich in tone, and he spoke clearly, but in comparison to Tommy’s voice, it was effeminate. At least he spoke clearly though.

No one talked on the drive to get Tom. Juliet’s hands were cold, and she became annoyed at herself for forgetting her gloves.

Nick pulled into the drive of a house. It was a detached home, plain, nothing distinctive about it. The front garden was tidy. Juliet thought it was ‘nice enough’. She wasn’t sure if Nick lived there with his brothers, or if he had his own house or lived with his dad, or whatever combination.

She kind of hoped he had his own place.

‘I’ll ring him, tell him we are here.’ Nick said, searching his phone contacts. ‘We’re outside.’

A slender brown-haired guy hurried out to the car. He was dressed sensibly for the cold weather and he looked nervous. He had the same face as Tommy, minus a bit of stock.

Figure-wise, he resembled Nick more than Tommy, but Juliet could plainly see that he was Tommy’s identical twin. Nick let him in his side of the car, and Tommy shuffled over to make room in the back.

‘Hi, I’m Tom.’ the latest addition said and smiled at Juliet.

‘Hello,’ she smiled back. ‘Juliet Maystone.’

Everyone fell silent while Nick adjusted himself back into his seat. He then turned to address his brothers. He told them about the morning events.

Juliet felt uncomfortable, she avoided eye contact with all of them. When Nick spoke about the way that Aldrich controlled her mind and body, she turned away completely. She held back tears and just listened to the twins’ reactions.

Tommy outright laughed at some of it, but Tom seemed to at least consider what was being said.

‘I knew yuh were into weird stuff, Nick, but is this supposed to be a joke or summin?’ Tommy asked, with a face of boredom.

‘It doesn’t matter if you don’t believe me. I’m just warning you that Aldrich could be dangerous. He knows something about our mum’s disappearance. Surely you want to know about that?’ Nick replied.

‘Howdyuh know that?’ Tommy asked incredulously.

‘Someone found Juliet, told her where to find me and to take me to Grendel Manor. They said it was about Mum.’ he lied.

The twins didn’t know about Juliet’s ability or Nick’s, and they didn’t need to know.

‘Whatever, this better not be a joke. And why aren’t yuh tellin’ Dad about it?’

‘You know how he is about Mum. I don’t want to tell him anything until we know more.’

Juliet respected Nick’s decision not to involve his dad yet. Her opinion of Tommy sunk lower and lower, but she took a moment to observe Tom. He looked preoccupied.

‘If it’s about Mum, I’m happy to come with you.’ Tom spoke suddenly. He smiled again and leaned back, ready to get the show on the road. Juliet gathered that he was a smiley kind of guy, which she liked, because his smile was as handsome as Nick’s.

‘Let’s just leave already.’ Tommy capitulated.

It took almost twenty minutes to return to the manor. On the way, Juliet thought she heard Tommy mutter something to Tom along the lines of: ‘Looks like Nick is gettin’ some then.’ She assumed it was an inappropriate reference about her, but she didn’t retaliate; she felt too uncomfortable.

Nick parked on the gravel area as before, and all four got out the car. It was late morning and the wind from the sea was harsh and bitterly cold. Earlier on, the sun had peered through the clouds in places, but now it was glum, mostly overcast. The wind stung Juliet’s face.

She let Nicolas and the twins take the lead; they walked through the foliage archway towards the manor. She’d seen beautiful houses such as this before and admired them, but all she could feel now was deep dread. The front door was still open as Nick said it would be.

‘Wait outside, Juliet, just in case.’ said Nick.

He cautiously stepped inside, his brothers followed in the same manner. Juliet couldn’t see inside and didn’t exactly want to. She waited. No sounds came from the manor. She waited some more. Her intuition screamed that something wasn’t right. What was taking them so long?

The wind howled in her ears, growing persistently louder. It was unnatural, like it was trying to communicate with her. It built to an almost deafening level, then stopped. Everything fell silent.

Samantha Crystan appeared.

She materialised so quick that it looked like the empty space in which she now filled swirled and imploded. Ripples swam through the fabric of the air that surrounded her.

‘Save my boys!’ she reached both arms out to Juliet, ‘SAVE THEM!’ the spirit roared, then fizzled out of sight as swiftly as she had appeared.

Juliet pelted up the chalky path then shoved the large door fully open.

Aldrich wasn’t on the floor as Nick had foreseen; there was the blood, the cane, the statue parts.

The twins were facing another direction. They seemed to be peering into a room, searching. Juliet stopped still when she spotted Nicolas. He became alert when he saw the panic in her face.

‘Get down!’ she shrieked, and pointed behind him.

She vaulted to one side and slid across the floor. The twins twisted around to see what was happening. Juliet covered her ears and squeezed her eyes shut. She stayed low on the floor.

There was a thunderous bang. Her body rattled. She heard something fall and land beside her. It made a clamorous cracking sound, but she remained still, too afraid to open her eyes yet.

She whimpered involuntarily and slowly opened her eyes. She expected to see Nick’s brains all over the floor and blood everywhere. But that’s not what she saw.

Nick was struggling to seize a shotgun from Aldrich’s grip. Tom ran over to help. Tommy stood with a hand covering part of his left arm, and then he charged towards Aldrich and kneed him in the thigh.

Aldrich lost his grip on the gun. The twins secured his arms behind his back. Juliet looked around her; it was a painting that had fallen and split on the floor.

The banister of the staircase was splintered. There were marks and dark holes splattered across the floor and the walls.

She gazed over at Tommy again. There was a tear in his jacket and a bloody patch where he’d been holding his left arm.

‘Are you okay?’ she asked, struggling to find the supporting breath.

‘What? My ears are ringin’,’ he shouted, and Juliet repeated the question, nodding towards his left arm, ‘I’m alright. It’s just a graze I think.’ he held firmly to Aldrich.

At that moment, Aldrich fixed his eyes on Juliet.

Her mind went dark; there was nothing.

Then she was a step away from Nicolas, her hands held up aggressively. The twins stared at her; both looked horrified. Aldrich’s eyes were closed and his head drooped on his neck.

‘What happened?’ she asked, letting her arms fall back to her side.

‘He did it again, he controlled you. You came towards me in a rage, but I hit him with the butt of the gun.’ Nick answered.

‘You were tellin’ the truth.’ Tommy’s voice raised an octave in astonishment, ‘How the hell does he do it? He’s like a Jedi.’

‘More like a Sith.’ Tom said.

Juliet recognised the word ‘Jedi’ as something to do with the Star Wars films, but she didn’t know what a ‘Sith’ was. Now wasn’t the time for jokes though.

She clenched her fists and performed a violent shake of her body at the thought that he’d violated her again. She cringed and tried to quell a surge of anger.

‘I think I know how he does it.’ Nick said, ‘Well, not exactly how, but I think he uses his eyes. He has to see the person he is controlling. We should cover his eyes before he comes back around, if he comes back around. I’ve knocked him unconscious twice now. He’s lost a lot of blood.’ he looked over at the pool on the floor.

‘Good idea.’ Juliet replied wearily.

Tommy said, ‘Come hold him up would yuh, Nick?’

Nick passed the shotgun to Juliet and then took hold of Aldrich. Tom was still supporting Aldrich’s weight and restraining one of his arms behind his back.

Although Juliet appreciated the level of trust in being handed the shotgun, she was disgusted to hold such a thing. It was smooth, heavy; it had the same squirming effect on her that she imagined holding a dead and gored bird in her hands would have. She placed it on a step out of the way, and as she did, she noticed her mobile phone on the floor. She picked it up and put it in her pocket.

Tommy ripped at the jacket sleeve where the fresh bullet-hole was. The bottom half of the sleeve tore off completely and he used it to blindfold Aldrich. Juliet suddenly felt wrong about all of this.

‘Wait, what are we doing? Shouldn’t we call the police?’ she pleaded.

‘Yeah, we can’t hold him hostage like this,’ Tom chimed in, ‘he tried to shoot you, Nick. The police should deal with this.’

Nick shook his head, ‘We can’t call them. We can’t tell them about his ability. They won’t believe us, and they will take the blindfold off of him. Then he will be able to control them. And, no offence, Juliet, but he could do more damage with a police officer than he did with you. He’d kill all of us.’

Juliet could see his point, she wasn’t offended but she hated the situation. She started pacing back and forth and didn’t respond to what Nick had said.

She caught Nick’s eyes and he looked at her compassionately, ‘We’ll figure it out as we go along, but we’re not calling the police or anyone until he tells us what he knows about my mum, and why he tried to kill me.’

‘Okay.’ she mustered up what courage she could.

‘Nick, we should close the front door.’ Tom said, ‘And if we are going to question him, we should tie his arms behind his back. I don’t want to hold him like this all day. He’s creepy; I don’t want to touch him.’

Tommy scurried off into another room, and after a while he came back with a black wire. Nick and Tom laid Aldrich face down on the floor while Tommy tied his hands together behind his back. This is so wrong, Juliet thought, but what could she do?

‘We should take him outside, away from the front of the Manor.’ Tom was on a role, ‘If a visitor comes, he might try to alert them. I saw from the hill as we drove here that he has loads of land behind the manor. It stretches right out to the cliff. We should lock the front door and take him far outside. I doubt anyone would hear us from out there, it’s too windy.’

‘Have you done this before, Tom? Is there something you’re not telling us?’ Nick asked and laughed.

‘No, I just don’t want to be caught with a tied up and bloodied man. If we are going to interrogate him, let’s do it properly and not get caught in the process.’

‘I was only joking, Tom.’

‘Well, you’re about as funny as a log.’ Tom said bitterly, then smiled and laughed with Nick.

Must be a personal joke.

Nick asked, ‘What should we do about the pool of blood?’

‘Just leave it. If someone comes to the door, they wouldn’t be able to see it through the windows. There are bullet holes everywhere anyway. Hopefully he lives here alone.’ Tom began to frown; he looked like he wanted to be anywhere but here. He wasn’t the only one.

‘We should try to wake him,’ said Juliet, ‘unless you want to drag him outside. I’ll fetch a glass of water.’ she walked through a hallway to the left, and assumed the kitchen (or a kitchen) would be at the rear of the manor.

The hallway echoed with the sound of her wedge boots clip-clopping on the floor. She could hear Nick and the twins mumbling about something back in the entry hall. The utter silence dwelling in the rest of the manor was disconcerting; it kept her on edge.

Every room she passed was decorated in the same style as the entry hall. There were statues of winged angels, naked men and women, and bodiless heads. There were bronze platters and ornaments, and the Greek meander pattern trailing the hall way.

Most things resembled ancient Greece, but she passed one room distinctly decorated in an Egyptian style with hieroglyphics, scarabs and various gods.

At the end of the hall she was greeted by a disturbing statue. It stood taller than her.

The statue was of a man with the head of a bull. His arms were up at his sides, positioned the way you would show a police man that you were unarmed. Its upper body was broad and muscular. It didn’t have a lower body; where its legs were meant to be, had been converted into a sort of wood burner, a miniature furnace. Its wrists and neck were spiked, adding to the beast’s hostile appearance.

Juliet hated statues: the eerie way that they appeared ready to spring to life. She half expected its eyes to follow her, or to blink. She forced herself not to look at the statue any longer and continued on her way.

She found the kitchen and used her common sense to locate a glass. She filled it with water and hurried back to the entry hall.

Tommy turned Aldrich over, onto his back, and propped him into an upright position. Juliet was about to poor some water into his mouth, then realised that he could well choke on it. A lot of things went through her mind, Recovery position, I’ve done first aid training, call an ambulance, call the police, but due to the circumstances, she decided to flick some water on his face. She gave him a light slap on the cheek. It worked.

‘Unnghh,’ he groaned.

He smelt rusty, metallic. One side of his hair was dried flat with dark blood. His curly fringe was dishevelled and partially covered the mark on his forehead, from where Nick hit him with the butt of the shotgun. Blood had stained one shoulder of his tweed jacket a mouldy brown colour.

‘We need to speak to you.’ Juliet said gently.

‘I can’t see,’ he mumbled, and then with more power, ‘I can’t see!’

‘We’ve blindfolded you so that you can’t get me to attack anyone.’

He wailed and fiercely shook his body, but Tommy held tight to him. Juliet’s heart sank miserably when she looked at this pathetic and helpless man.

‘You’ve tied my hands, it’s too tight. I’m cold.’ he complained. Tom looked around nervously, he seemed afraid that someone would hear Aldrich shouting. He gestured towards the back of the manor and gave a strict nod.

‘We are going to take you outside to speak with you.’ Juliet started, ‘We will find a blanket to keep you warm. Would you like some water, I have some here.’ she said clearly.

‘You fucking bitch, you whore, you slut, untie me!’ he screamed, spitting in anger.

Nick’s face changed demeanour; he looked ready to yell something in protest, but Juliet calmly held up a hand, gesturing him to not bother.

She said to Aldrich, ‘I’d appreciate it if you didn’t speak to me in that manner.’ her voice was austere, ‘We came here simply to ask some questions, but you’ve attacked us repeatedly. I don’t take orders from anyone, and why would name-calling give me cause to help you? If you answer our questions, I’m certain we can come to an agreement in which we all walk away with no further harm.’

Aldrich didn’t reply. She watched his nostrils flare and his lips pull together in a resentful line. He breathed heavily out of his nose and remained silent. Tom raised his eyebrows, showing how impressed he was at Juliet’s handling of the situation.

Nick seemed to have calmed down.

Pressing the glass of water to Aldrich’s lips, Juliet said, ‘Drink some water, and then we are going to stand you up and take you outside.’ he did as she said and then she turned to Nick and Tom, ‘Could one of you go and find a blanket for him please?’ she asked.

Tom jogged up the staircase to the indoor balcony then through a doorway and out of sight. He returned with a chocolate-brown throw. Tommy pulled Aldrich to his feet, then all of them headed down the hallway and into the kitchen. There was a back door in the kitchen, and Nick searched for the key. When he had no luck, Aldrich begrudgingly gruffled, ‘The flowerpot.’

Nick found the key underneath the pot on a nearby shelf.

The ‘garden’ wasn’t exactly a garden at all. Behind Grendel Manor was a large field of land. There was a faint trodden path where it was apparent someone had regularly walked in that direction.

They decided to follow it. They walked for over ten minutes, the sound of the sea grew louder and the force of the wind swelled stronger.

It was difficult for Juliet to walk in her wedge boots on the uneven ground. In hindsight, they weren’t the best choice of footwear; she stood awkwardly taller than Nick and the twins, and she’d already had to run a few times this morning. She mentally decided that the next time she did a spirit’s bidding, she’d wear trainers.

When she turned back, Grendel Manor was tiny; they were definitely far away enough to not be heard.

There was a small group of trees that offered shelter from the wintry wind. They headed into them, and Tommy pushed Aldrich down against the trunk of one. Tom placed the throw over him.

‘I won’t tell you anything unless you take this blindfold off.’ Aldrich murmured. ‘Take it off, I need my eyes. I want to see. Take it off, take it off.’

Juliet couldn’t place his accent at all. It was very slight; the occasional elongation of a word, the occasional roll of the tongue. Nothing matched up about Aldrich Grendel.

She thought about when they first knocked on his door today: he was polite for a fraction of time, then spoke in a pompous tone, showing only contempt. Now he was a snivelling wreck, his voice a strangled, helpless whine.

‘Juliet, if you stay out of sight, then we can take his blindfold off.’ Nick said, ‘We should be fine.’

‘How do you know he can’t control the twins?’ she asked as if they weren’t present.

‘Because if he could, then he would have used his ability on them earlier, instead of you. Again, no offence, but look at the muscles on Tommy.’ he awkwardly laughed.

‘Okay, but be ready to cover his eyes if he tries anything.’ she suggested. She walked off through the trees and found a fallen trunk to sit on.

She took out her mobile to check the time. It was 12:42 pm. She bitterly thought, Oh how time flies when you’re having fun. But what was the point in sulking? She mentally chided herself for being so resentful.

Although not hungry yet, she sensed inchoate emptiness in her stomach. Well, she didn’t know if it was that or if it was unsettled from the fear of seeing Aldrich with a shotgun pointed at Nick’s head. For breakfast, she’d had muesli with added fruit and low fat yoghurt. That was at about 7.30am, so maybe it was incipient hunger she felt.

She hadn’t thought about Samantha Crystan’s appearance since it happened. Samantha had literally zapped in and out of this world to save her sons. She said she didn’t have time to stay before. How did she manage to appear again? There was a lot Juliet didn’t know about the Spiritworld.

She realised that they had left the shotgun in the manor on the step. Was that a mistake? She didn’t know, but she couldn’t exactly go and alert them now, not until she was sure that Aldrich was blindfolded again.

All she could do was sit and wait.

Then she saw a glimmer of light. It bobbed through the air.

Like a firefly, or a little fairy.

It swirled around the trees and branches as if to get her attention. She stood up and walked towards it, fascinated by its beauty. Then it trailed through the trees… guiding her, taking her down a mysterious path.

Chapter 15

Autumn leaves covered the ground; some whipped about occasionally as the wind wended through the trees. Nick looked down at Aldrich sat against a tree trunk. Looking at him made his blood run; he still shook from almost having his head blown off.

Aldrich had tried to kill him repeatedly now, and Nick was certain that Aldrich played a foul hand in his mum’s disappearance. Once he found out what that hand was, he wasn’t sure how he would react.

The blindfold still covered Aldrich’s eyes. Nick came towards him, slowly, and knelt beside him, readying his hand to lift the blindfold.

‘If you try your trick on my brothers, I’ll blindfold you again.’ his jaw was clenched as he spoke, he already hated the man.

He lifted the blindfold, and Tom seemed to take an instinctual step away. Tommy stood strong and glared at Aldrich.

Tom moved back some more and shouted, ‘Nick!’ he grabbed at his head, ‘I can feel him inside my head. He’s trying to get in.’

A second later, Tommy chimed in, ‘He’s tryin’ it on me too. Cover his eyes.’

With an impatient huff, Nick yanked the blindfold back over Aldrich’s eyes.

‘I’m not telling you anything. Take the blindfold off. Take it off. I won’t answer any questions.’ Aldrich wriggled side to side, kicking at the earth.

‘Yeah, I know.’ Nick said harshly, and thought, Bloody broken record you are.

He rose to his feet. ‘Would you two go out of sight, maybe each go to opposite ends of the manor and keep an eye out in case anyone comes?’

Tommy’s face screwed up indignantly, ‘No. I wanna hear what he says about Mum.’

‘I’d like to hear too.’ Tom added.

‘I know, but he’s not going to talk with the blindfold on. Please, just go, I’ll tell you everything he says.’ Nick felt odd talking about Aldrich as if he wasn’t there, tied up, blindfolded, bloody and bruised.

‘No, I’m stayin’. I can keep him outta my head, I bet yuh.’ Tommy said with frustrating finality.

Nick shouted, ‘Tommy, just go!’

‘What makes yuh think you’re boss of this family, Nick? Talkin’ to Dad like shit, makin’ decisions for us. I can do what I like.’ his voice outshouted Nick with ease.

Nick went heavy with guilt at the mention of the argument with his dad, but part of why he was here was for his dad. He needed to know the truth. He wanted to find the closure for his dad; John deserved to move on.

‘Tommy, you saw what he did to Juliet. I don’t want to risk it. What if he managed to control you, and you did something to Tom or me, or to Juliet? How guilty would you feel?’

‘Pffftt, he can’t control me.’ he replied, and gave Aldrich a scornful glare.

‘Please, Tommy.’ Nick tried a reasonable tone.

Tom spoke up then, ‘Tommy, let’s just go. Nick wouldn’t keep anything from us. It’s better not to risk it, like he said, let’s just go keep a look out.’

Tommy relaxed his stance a bit, then said, ‘Whatever, but I wanna know everythin’ he tells yuh.’ He stropped away without another word, and Nick nodded to Tom in thanks. He returned a weak smile.

Worry swam in Nick’s mind. Part of him wanted to run away, another part wanted to cry, and the rest of him just wanted Aldrich to spill the beans already, and then vanish out of existence.

He began to pace back and forth, tapping the centre of his left palm repeatedly. I’m calm, I’m focused, I’m calm, I’m focused.

‘Are you going to take this off of me?’ Aldrich caught him by surprise, and he jumped.

‘Yeah,’ he answered, half-heartedly. He pulled the blindfold up so it rested on Aldrich’s forehead. It pushed his mop-ish curly fringe up, like a school-boy’s gelled quiff. Nick noticed how much Aldrich’s head had swollen with bruising; it was horrifically distorted. Oddly, he felt very little guilt.

The question of his mum’s disappearance was the most important one, but he had many things he wanted to ask Aldrich. Here was another person with some form of higher ability, and Nick yearned to know more about it.

He wanted to know how Aldrich gained control over his power, where it came from, if it took practice, and how long he’d been able to do it. The list of things he wanted to ask gave him a frisson, mixed with worry and impatience.

‘How do you control other people’s actions?’ he asked.

‘I see their minds.’

That’s too simple.
‘Care to elaborate?’ he pushed.

‘A web, patterns… little pockets, shapes, colours, all sorts. I see their minds. Not tiny brains. Their minds, larger than their head, seeps into their bodies, hovers around them. Intentions.’ he spoke slowly, plodding over each word.

Nick frowned, confused, ‘You’re not making sense.’

‘I can’t see yours. Not exactly. I can sense it. I can’t penetrate it.’ he smiled sardonically.

‘Penetrate it? My mind?’

‘I see people’s minds, I see the patterns, I place my will inside of those brains, those minds, those patterns. I fiddle, immerse myself, tamper, and edit memories. All is different inside one’s mind. Time doesn’t exist, not there. All memories are there for access, for editing, for planting seeds.’

It was droning to listen to Aldrich, and Nick resented that he had so much he wanted to ask.

‘Editing?’

‘It takes some time. I can sift through a mind and plant intentions. Change beliefs. Destroy memories. Distort realities.’

The thought of it caused an aversion in Nick’s body. It was so immoral, invasive and just… wrong.

‘And, what do you mean you can’t see my mind?’

‘I can see it, in a sense. But I can’t see the patterns. Your mind is all-encompassing; it’s connected to the fabric surrounding us, the fabric of time and space. Your mind is everywhere at once.’ Aldrich answered with a cryptic flash of his eyes.

Nick felt weak suddenly, and took a moment to lean on a tree.

He thought about when he brought the vision upon himself earlier today. How he had made it work: he imagined himself as a tree, spreading outwards, entwining himself with the universe, being connected to everything. It was that state of being that brought on the vision, the vision that turned out to be not entirely correct.

Maybe Aldrich could sense Nick’s ability? Was that what he ‘saw’ when he looked at Nick’s mind? Is that how Nick could see the future? Because his mind was connected to the ‘fabric’ of time and space?

It annoyed him that even if that was the case, the vision that he’d had  earlier wasn’t accurate. In that vision, Aldrich was on the floor, unconscious, when they returned to the manor; but when they actually did return, he was prepared for them, waiting with a shotgun.

Nick’s ability had saved Juliet’s life the first time, but this second time it had almost got them all killed. He knew he was glad to have the ability, to be ‘special’, but he craved to gain control over it. How could he trust his visions when so far there had been major consequences?

‘My brothers... you can’t seem to control them fully; what do their minds look like to you?’

‘Similar to yours, but closer to their physical bodies. I saw some of their patterns. I could have controlled them. Would have taken more time. Effort. They are not like you. Their minds are different to others, and so is yours, but yours is more complex,’ then Aldrich said reprovingly, ‘yours is out of my reach.’

Why were his brothers’ minds different? Do they have the ability I have? Maybe they have it, but to a different degree? This was yet another mystery to put on his list.

‘Why did you try to use your ability to get Juliet and me to hand over our valuables? You obviously have a lot of money… look at your manor.’ he asked, perplexed.

‘I get whatever I can from anyone who comes to my door. Why not? I love free stuff. Mobile phones are fun. Private texts. Surprising how many people have naked pictures of themselves on their mobiles. Some people, I make them give me their clothes. Sometimes, I trance them into sexual favours. Mind wipe. They don’t remember anything.’

Nick cringed at the thought of it. If he hadn’t been immune to Aldrich’s ability, he and Juliet may have been subjected to that. He wanted to call Aldrich all sorts of names: pervert, sicko, rapist. But it wouldn’t have helped or progressed things.

‘Have you always had this ability or did you gain it somehow?’ asked Nick.

‘It was a gift.’

‘Someone passed it down to you?’ it was difficult for him to imagine someone or something bestowing such a gift. Surely it was impossible?

‘A gift from Moloch.’ Aldrich’s voice was heavy and full of homage when he said Moloch.

Moloch? That sounds familiar.
Nick mused over where he’d heard it before. Then he remembered. When he’d researched mythology on the internet, he’d found a link to another website. He’d read about Moloch but didn’t pay much attention.

Moloch was some sort of ancient god, worshipped by Canaanites and Phoenicians. Nick had found artist representations of the god; he was large and horned like a bull, or possibly even had a bull’s head. Then Nick recalled the worst part: in the past, worshippers used to sacrifice children by fire to Moloch.

‘Are you referring to the ancient god: Moloch?’

‘Who else could I mean?’ Aldrich acted offended.

‘But Moloch isn’t real.’

Aldrich made a fierce attempt to shake free his tied arms; he groaned and wriggled, then gave up, ‘Moloch is my master! I do His bidding.’

You do his bidding…?
It all fit into place then.

‘Katie Baker. You kidnapped her.’ Nick said, askance.

It felt noticeably colder all of a sudden, and oh so still, like the trees had stopped their rustling to hear Aldrich’s response. Aldrich looked frightened, and then he smiled a wicked grimace. ‘She was a gift to Moloch.’ he said proudly.

A pungent twist in Nick’s stomach made him feel sick. Saliva started to fill his mouth, and he wished he hadn’t figured it out.

‘Children have been disappearing on this island every ten years or so,’ Nick began, struggling not to shake, ‘it couldn’t have been you all those times. You don’t look much older than thirty.’

‘I’m older than I look. Moloch grants me many gifts.’

Nick didn’t believe any of this Moloch business. Even though he’d meditated in the past in an attempt to meet deities, did he ever really believe in any form of gods? Or a singular god? He wasn’t so sure. Maybe at the time he was just desperate, craving to believe in anything.

But Moloch… he simply couldn’t believe in him; in the existence of a god so evil.

Aldrich could have been born with his ability, and maybe part of his ability was longevity, or even immortality, but Nick was certain that Aldrich was delusional about his beloved god.

It made sense that Aldrich was older than he looked. His accent was fleeting and unplaceable, his name didn’t match his appearance, and the way he spoke was muddled. He could have been worshipping his imaginary god for hundreds of years. Maybe more. All those poor children.

‘You burnt them all alive?’ Nick asked through tense lips.

‘No. They go into the light.’

‘What?’

‘I used to burn them, centuries ago. Then Moloch appeared to me, personally. Yes. Personally. He demands that they go into the light.’

That confirmed his suspicions; Aldrich had been sacrificing children for centuries. Maybe not all on Lansin Island, but still… they were children.

Aldrich spoke some more, ‘Their own parents sacrificed them. Mr and Mrs Baker led their daughter into the light.’

But Mr and Mrs Baker made appearances in the media, begging for information on their daughter’s whereabouts,
Nick thought. They were still searching for her. Mora had shown him the newspaper roughly a week ago.

‘You did it, didn’t you? You used your mind-trick on her parents. You forced them to sacrifice their own child, and they don’t remember a thing.’ he clenched his fist. ‘You’re sick and disgusting.’

‘Moloch demands it. Parents must do the deed.’ Aldrich actually laughed and shrugged his shoulders as if to say, ‘I don’t make the rules’.

Nick paced back and forth, ‘Moloch isn’t real you delusional freak!’

A sharp barking noise escaped Aldrich’s mouth. He spat towards Nick. The spit fell short of him, but managed to infuriate Nick some more.

The urge to beat Aldrich, to make him suffer, was almost overwhelming. He wasn’t sure if he could fight it off. Why could people like Aldrich get away with such monstrous things, when someone like Nick received a beating for trying to do the right thing, like stopping Alan from stealing?

He began to tap the palm of his left hand again, fast and hard. I’M CALM, I’M FOCUSED, I’M CALM, I’M FOCUSED! It didn’t work.

He thought maybe the best plan to distract his anger might be to ask more questions, to keep the ‘conversation’ flowing. What could he say though? All he could do was judge this disgusting man.

‘Think of all the good you could have done with your power.’ Nick felt that he had to say it, ‘You could have changed the minds of the world’s most evil people. You could erase a paedophile’s intentions, change their life completely and save a lot of suffering, you could change someone’s limiting thoughts and behaviours. You could destroy evil intentions in anyone’s head; get people out of prison but with a fresh mind free from hate or criminal intentions. Maybe you could even use your ability to cure someone’s mental illness. But instead, you destroy lives, you sacrifice innocent children!’

It tired him thinking of all the suffering that Aldrich could have stopped, but his conscience nagged at him.

Would it be ethical to invade anyone’s mind at all? Even if your goal was to cure them of their murderous tendencies? A human has the right to their own private thoughts. Is it wrong to take away that right? If the world knew about Aldrich, would or could they even use his power ethically?

Nick had thought that he had a good sense of ‘right’ and ‘wrong’, but this tested him. Maybe thinking in terms of ethical or unethical was easier. Or harder. Or maybe these labels didn’t matter, and it was purely a being’s intention that mattered. Giving out love or giving out hate?

Aldrich shouted, ‘Only Moloch tells me what to do. I do His bidding!’

‘Yeah, yeah, I know. You’ve told me already.’ Nick said, exhausted. There was still so much he wanted to ask but he didn’t think he could handle the answers for much longer.

‘How do you… pick people? Do you ever leave the manor to find your victims?’

‘It’s a fun game.’ Aldrich was sinister and smiling, blood crusted down his face, ‘Moloch doesn’t ask often, he expects one every ten years or so. Give or take some years. If I get the chance, I sacrifice more than that. As often as I like. It was easier in the past. There are places in the world where it would go unnoticed, but Lansin Island is where Moloch wants me. This is his home for now. Where I worship him. To pick my victims, I have methods. But let me ask you something first.’ he glowered at Nick, ‘Are you going to kill me?’

The air stopped in Nick’s throat. He was stuck for words. The thought hadn’t even crossed his mind. Kill him? Murder? No, I couldn’t. But he couldn’t turn him in to the authorities either; as much as he wanted to. Mr and Mrs Baker needed closure, and so did the other parents from across the years... but could Nick tell them about all this?

If he turned Aldrich in, he would escape easily, and who knows what he would do then?

‘No, I’m not going to kill you. We will figure something out, a compromise. I just want to ask you more questions.’

‘A compromise? Yes. I know! That pretty woman with you. I can make her yours. I’ll make her your slave. She’ll treat you like a king. I can do that. Make her yours. Your bitch. Yes? And you’ll let me go?’ he spoke quick this time, excitedly.

‘No! You can’t invade someone’s mind like that. She has her own free will. She’s no one’s slave.’ Nick almost barked the words out. The lack of respect for Juliet was abhorrent.

Nick was sexually attracted to Juliet; he couldn’t deny that. But what Aldrich was suggesting was no better than rape. Maybe even worse.

If Nick and Juliet ever developed to that stage, he would want anything sexual to be consensual and special. Intimate. Loving. But this was thinking way ahead; they’d only kissed for the first time today.

‘What about money? I’ll make you rich. Look at my manor. All the money in the world. Yours!’ Aldrich twitched.

‘No, I don’t want anything from you. I’m not going to kill you anyway.’ Nick cringed again at the thought of physically killing someone. He found himself glancing back towards the manor. All that money. He’d never have to work again. No, he couldn’t do it. ‘I just want to ask more questions, that’s all.’

‘You want to know about your mother. I know why you’re here.’

‘Yeah, that’s why I’m here.’

Aldrich then continued with the previous conversation as if he’d never changed the subject, ‘How I pick my victims… I can afford to take my time. My favourite method is to advertise. In the local paper. Old junk for sale, car for sale, collectibles, and the likes. Yes. I never own the actual thing. And when they call me and come to my manor, I invite them inside. That is where the game begins. Game, yes.’ he sniffled a disturbing laugh.

‘I invite them inside’ he went on, ‘Sometimes I ask direct questions. Other times I jump right inside of their minds. Does anyone know you are here? Yes equals go home and I erase their memory of ever coming to the manor, but a no and we are on to the next level. Do you have children? Yes, the next level. No, go home and erase memory.’

‘That sounds like a long process.’ Nick commented, disgusted at the ritual-like way in which Aldrich picked his victims. It reminded him of TV programmes and films he had seen with serial killers in. Aldrich was a serial killer, he supposed.

‘Yes, yes, it can take a long time to find the right person, or people. Long time. It’s ever so fun. Fun. Yes. Criteria, no one knows they came to my manor, no one knows they were interested in my item in the ad, they have children, and then the next level is programming their minds.

‘It takes some time. I program them to fetch their children and return to the manor. I program them to be stealthy about it. Don’t tell anyone. If they are seen too close to the manor, then turn around and try another day. If not, then continue. It’s secluded out here. Nearest house, a few miles.

‘Once they are here, the parent does the deed. I fiddle with their mind again. Ensure they have no memories of it. Then they drive away, return to their life, then think, where’s my dear child?’ Aldrich smiled; he looked to be pleasantly reminiscing, ‘Ha, I love to read the papers, watch the news, sobbing parents pleading for their missing child. Funny. Mr and Mrs Baker are particularly pathetic.’

‘You’re sick. There’s nothing human about you.’ Nick said frankly. ‘I don’t want to know anything more. All I want to know now is what you know about my mum.’

This was the moment of truth; his heart quickened in preparation for the answer.

‘Your mother rang me. She saw my advert. Small family day-boat for sale. I think it was three thousand and three hundred pounds. She was disgustingly cloying. Cloying. Yes. Blabbed about it being the perfect birthday present for her husband. Soppy, sickly stuff. I played along. We agreed on a cash payment if she came to view the boat and wanted it. Of course the boat didn’t exist.’ he was looking off to the side, through the trees, showing blatant boredom.

Nick tried to figure it out as he went along; his body tensed at Aldrich mocking his mum.

‘Your mother arrived at my front door. I invited her inside. Spoke with her, she had your smile. I thought I recognised you when you came to my door earlier. Yes. Anyway, I asked your mother the usual questions: do you have children, did you tell anyone you came here, etcetera. Ha, etcetera. Yes.

‘She answered me, confusedly. I was happy to learn she had three children: two of them ten year old boys, twins, your brothers! Moloch loves twins. Then I tried to trance her, use my mind-trick... as you called it. I said to her, bring me your twins. I attempted to dig inside her mind, but her mind was like yours. It was out of reach.’

Although it was cold, and Nick had been chilled throughout, he experienced heat surging through him now; a hot rage. The thought that Aldrich would have sacrificed Tom and Tommy made him furious.

He wanted to cover his ears. He wanted to cry.

Aldrich continued, ‘I panicked then, your mother knew there was something wrong. I’d revealed that I wanted her boys, the precious twins. She stood up to leave. I couldn’t let her. I couldn’t trance her. She would have told the authorities about me. If enough people came to my door, I couldn’t control more than five at once. No. Not effectively. I’d never met anyone who I couldn’t trance. Never. In my long years, never.’

‘I reached for a knife, an old ornament of mine, I stabbed her repeatedly. Yes. Ha, I’d never killed without using my ability before. She struggled. Tried to scratch at my face, tried to kick me. Blood everywhere.’ he said everything matter-of-fact, as if he was telling Nick what he had for breakfast, rather than that he’d murdered his mother. ‘I disposed of her body. I put it in the boot of her car, drove it to the cliff over there,’ he pointed towards the cliff edge, ‘and pushed it over the edge.’

A lump invaded Nick’s throat. It was heart-breaking to realise that his mum had never wanted to leave her family. He knew now why she’d withdrawn the money; she’d planned a romantic present for her husband. His dad would have loved a day-boat. Nick’s mind was cloudy, foggy; he came over lightheaded and uncomfortable.

He couldn’t stop the graphic images that came to his mind: his mother struggling, fighting for her life. The pure horror she must have felt. What were her last thoughts? His body became hotter; he sweated, alternating between tensing and shaking.

He thought of his relationship with his dad, how it changed after his mum’s disappearance. He thought about his insecurities in the past relationship with Kerra. He’d always been afraid she would leave, like his mum did.

He thought about how he’d failed most of his GCSEs because of the grief. He thought about how he’d had to move out to get away from his dad, and now he never had any money, he had to struggle on a part time wage. He thought about how he’d secluded himself and lost contact with most of his friends.

Then finally he thought about what his life would have been like if his mother was still alive; how full of joy his dad would be; all the things they could have done together in the past eight, almost nine, years; the family holidays they would have gone on; the Christmases and Birthdays they could have celebrated as a complete family; the love they would have shared.

I want to kill him.

He looked at Aldrich who was impatiently goggling around at the trees. The tree in which Aldrich was propped against was completely leafless. It was tall and almost black with crooked branches. It looked dead but full of character, menacing; if a tree could be described as such. It was only too appropriate to have the monster known as Aldrich propped against such a macabre tree.

Aldrich turned to Nick sharply, then said, ‘Oh, and if I could have put your mother under a trance, I would have done a lot more than just sacrifice your brothers. She was a pretty thing. Yes. She would have looked very agreeable in my bed.’ he cackled violently.

Within a split second, Nick found himself pounding Aldrich in the face. He brought his fist down repeatedly. He felt the awful thud of his knuckles on Aldrich’s skull. He heard Aldrich’s nose crack. Blood gushed from his nostrils. I hate you, I HATE YOU.

He moved back, only to kick Aldrich in the ribs. It pleased Nick that he’d worn winkle-pickers and the pointed end would surely hurt Aldrich’s side. In his fury, the pains from being attacked earlier were dulled. They didn’t matter!

Then he got his foot tangled in the chocolate-brown throw that covered Aldrich. He awkwardly tripped on it, but got back up and continued to kick and punch him, in frenzy, and then he looked at Aldrich’s face. Aldrich weakly murmured, ‘St…stop… p…ppuh…please.’ his head lulled to one side. Spit mixed with blood sloppily dripped from his mouth.

Why should I stop? You didn’t stop when you stabbed my mum to death, my innocent mum. You don’t deserve mercy.
But then he did stop. He focused on the pain in his knuckles, and in his toes. His fists were bloody. His body ached; he wasn’t one for regular exercise... this was physically taxing.

He knew he had a choice.

It was a choice that could change him forever.

I can’t kill you. I’m not like you. I’m not a murderer.

He allowed himself to stumble backwards and fall to the ground. Aldrich’s chest still rose and fell, so Nick felt slight relief. He didn’t have the energy to cry, so he simply sat there.

After a long, long moment of well-deserved self-pity, he tried to stand up tall. Fatigued, he got to his feet and then trudged over to Aldrich. He weakly reapplied the blindfold. Aldrich moaned dazedly in defiance.

Nick thought about the idea that his mum was immune to Aldrich’s ability too, and that’s what got her killed.

He considered that possibly his mum was ‘psychic’ like he was, and the gift was passed down to him. If she saw the future though, she wouldn’t have been murdered, but then as he’d already experienced, the visions weren’t necessarily accurate. And also, Nick only had his first vision recently, at the age of twenty four. It was possible that his mum’s ability never switched on.

The blood, his mother covered in dark-red punctures, fleshy, glistening wounds... gore; horrible images flickering across his mind. Urghhh, he clenched his fists and mentally pushed the pictures away; hopefully somewhere they would stay locked tight, never to return.

Aldrich had said that Samantha Crystan’s mind looked the same as Nick’s, but that the twins’ minds weren’t the same. Did the gift only get passed down to the first born? Or maybe because they were twins, the gift became split or weakened. He just didn’t know enough about his ability, he made a grumbling fed-up sound and dismissed his thoughts.

‘Juliet?’ he shouted, his voice coming out weaker than expected, ‘Juliet, the blindfold is back on him. You can come back.’

There was no response; he tried to spot her through the trees.

‘Juliet?’ he bellowed.

Where is she?

Chapter 16

Transfixed, she walked. Autumn decay rustled underfoot. The woods swelled thicker, denser, heavier. Twigs crunched and the air smelt damp and wooden. Were the trees becoming taller the further she delved into the woods?

The thing swirled and weaved excitedly through the tangled trees. It glowed. Juliet’s eyes were glued to it, and its reflection shone and twinkled on the surface of her eyes.

A tranquil quiet filled Juliet’s mind as she followed the thing. She knew that she could break off at any point. This wasn’t like Aldrich’s evil trance; she had the choice to turn and walk away, but she didn’t want to.

It was beautiful.

She knew it wasn’t a spirit. It didn’t wobble the air or agitate the atmosphere the way the spirits did. It was too elegant for that.

The decadent ground transformed the more she tread. She looked behind her, towards the direction she came from. It was full of brown, orange and red. It was autumn at its purest.

But then she looked ahead of her, in the direction of the bobbing thing. It was so alive in that direction. Autumn hadn’t hit that area. It was impossible.

Not all the trees were coniferous, and she knew enough to recognise that most of these trees were deciduous and should have been leafless at this time. It wasn’t just the fact that they were leaved, but that they were so, so green. Branches were thick and full of overflowing foliage. And then she noticed the flowers. They coated the ground in a myriad of colours: wildflowers of blue, yellow, purple and white. There were some she recognised and many she didn’t.

Have I stepped into a different world? Surely it’s spring here.

She turned back again; she could see autumn behind her, in walking distance. She was confident that she was still in this world, and that she hadn’t somehow passed out and woke in spring, or stepped through a door into another universe.

There are probably scientific reasons to explain this.
Then instantly after that thought, she wasn’t so certain she believed it. It all looked too magical; everything was mingled harmoniously.

She was modestly impressed with herself for not freaking out. She imagined that a lesser person would be jostling in their knees right about now.

The bobbing fairy-like thing demanded her attention, and then zoomed through a bush and out of sight. She sped up and eagerly pushed through in pursuit.

She found herself in a vast open area. The trees created a large circle perimeter, and when she looked up, a halo of the sky. She felt like a contestant walking into an ancient Roman arena, like the Colosseum, and the trees were spectators.

The ground was simply grassed in this clearing, deliciously green of course, but in the centre was the strangest thing.

A set of steps.

They didn’t lead upwards. They led down, below ground-level, as if to a basement in the woods.

The steps looked ancient. Juliet cautiously walked forwards. She knelt down and couldn’t resist the urge to touch the first stone step. It was smooth, as if weathered, and it felt strong against her fingers. It contrasted with its appearance; she’d expected a coarse, sandy texture. They looked almost ready to crumble.

In fact, the steps reminded her of a place in Athens. On holiday with her parents, she’d visited the dramatic marble hill, Areopagus, also known as Mars Hill or the Hill of Ares. She recalled the old marble steps that led to Mars Hill, and these were so alike, majestic.

She came back to the here and now, and gasped when she saw what was at the bottom of the steps. There was a pool of light: almost completely white, shining fiercely. She stood up and moved backwards. She wasn’t sure if ‘pool’ was the best fitting description.

It looked to be of a gloopy consistency, ethereal, wondrous and full of glitters. There were no usual sounds of the woods, no rustling, no chirpy-cheeps from the birds. All was still, apart for the glowing pool; it warmly hummed a fixed, ringing note. It soothed her senses.

Then she spotted the thing, the glimmering whatever-it-was; it bounced around the air momentarily, and then flew down into the pool.

What on earth?
Juliet’s face transformed, confounded. The thing just vanished through the pool of light. As if it became one with it, or as if the pool was really a… portal?

Juliet thought: What is it? And did she imagine that she heard a whisper? Maybe it was a reply.

She made an effort to direct her thoughts at the resplendent pool.

What are you?

The instant reply that pervaded her mind was: The Otherworld.

It wasn’t like a voice saying it aloud; it was a sexless, language-less reply, but perfectly clear at the same time.

So was it a portal? Could she pass through it? Go into the light?

And then Tamara’s words came to mind, You’re anchored in two worlds. You spiritually died. You are displaced. Your soul is in the Otherworld, but your body is here.

It startled her when she realised she’d overlooked the most important thing: that she had the opportunity to get her soul back. Potentially, it was on the other side of this portal.

She could be normal and wouldn’t have to worry about spirits ever again. Although she’d already resolved to make the best out of her ability, she knew in her heart that she would rather not have it at all. That it was a curse.

But then, anything could be on the other side of the portal. There was no guarantee that if she located her soul that she could do anything about it. Would it magically recognise her body and re-join it?

I’ll worry about that when it comes to it. I’ve got to take this chance.

She stole a deep breath and trundled down the steps. The air warmed the closer she got to the light pool. She paused, a step away, she moved one foot close to it, wanting to ‘test the water’ to see what would happen to her foot.

She didn’t dare to just yet.

Moving her foot away again, she thought about it. What if I passed through and couldn’t come back? She would be stuck in the Otherworld.

The idea of not returning didn’t hurt her so much, surprisingly. She wouldn’t be leaving much behind. All she had was Chanton Hillview, Kim who was busy with Ryan, and her distant parents. Oh, and maybe now Nicolas, since she’d kissed him… could that lead to anything more?

Stop, I’m being negative. Chanton Hillview is important to me. I’m a good manager. Kim is my best friend, I’d miss her and she’d miss me. My parents love me. These are things worth keeping. But... I want my soul back.

While she mulled over her conflicts, the pool of light hummed louder. It drew her attention.

And then it ‘said’ something: Hello Soulless One.

The words forced a deep void in her chest. She felt empty in a swift moment. To be called soulless, it pained her, soulless, What am I without a soul? Am I even human? She wondered what was actually speaking to her.

Was the portal itself speaking or was there a being on the other side?

What’s your name, Soulless One?
The portal asked.

Juliet answered automatically, the way she always did when greeting someone, ‘Juliet Maystone,’ she said aloud. Then she considered that giving out her full name might not have been a great idea.

Soulless One. The portal mocked her. The urge to pass through the portal came to her again. She rationalised that if she could get to the Otherworld, then she could get back, and if she could lose her soul, then she could gain it back.

Failure was never an option; there had been times when she’d wanted to run away from problems in the past, but practical and applied thinking always got the job done.

Decided, she was about to step into the gleaming pool, but she heard Nick’s voice, a long way off. He called her name.

She wasn’t sure how far she’d travelled.

Hastily jogging up the steps, she struggled to remember what direction she entered the clearing from. Nick called again, so she followed his voice.

She ran through the woods; she sprinted from spring to autumn.
Running was easy, she ran on her treadmill most mornings, but that would be wearing trainers, not wedge boots. Too hasty, she almost tripped and was lucky not to twist her ankle.

Locating the fallen tree trunk she’d previously sat on, she stopped. She couldn’t risk Aldrich not having his blindfold on.

‘Juliet, where are you?’ Nick shouted, ‘I’ve put the blindfold back on him. Hello?’

‘I’m here, I’m coming.’ she paced.

When she found Nick, he looked vacant. His posture was slouched. She tracked down his body to his gored hands. Blood on his knuckles, Why are his hands bloody?

She felt she knew why, but she didn’t want to look. Is he the sort of person to attack a restrained, defenceless man? It was a disheartening thought. She straightened her back, stood tall, and found the courage to peer over at Aldrich. His head hung low, the chocolate-brown throw didn’t cover much of his body anymore, and phlegmy blood had further stained his tweed jacket. His lips were bloody, his forehead swollen, and his hair was clotted.

‘What have you done to him?’ she trembled.

Nick stared blankly for just a moment. He looked to Juliet, and his eyes reddened. Although she didn’t know what had preceded this moment, and although she barely knew him, her heart ached to see Nicolas this way.

‘He... murdered my mum…’ weakly, Nick said, ‘It was him.’ and his face screwed up. He looked down to cry.

Juliet hurried to embrace him; it was the oddest feeling, she couldn’t remember comforting a man in this way before. She’d consoled Kim a few times, but that was after break-ups with random guys. It wasn’t on the same level as this. But pain was pain, she supposed; whatever the extent, and she’d help if she could. Though, she certainly didn’t feel comfortable or adequate to support someone who’d just discovered something so horrific.

Poor Samantha… poor Nicolas… and his family.
She squeezed her eyes shut, bit her bottom lip and shook her head with tiny but significant movements.

Nick’s chest convulsed heavily. Juliet could tell he was reining back on making any noise. It would have been natural for him to wail uncontrollably, but she was glad he wasn’t in that state.

He began to settle, ‘I didn’t think I had the energy to cry.’

Juliet didn’t know what to say. She went for, ‘It’s okay.’

‘Sorry, I was angry at him, the way he killed her… for no good reason. If there ever could be a good reason to kill someone! I wanted to kill him, but I couldn’t do it.’ he said.

It disturbed Juliet to hear Nick say these things aloud, so she didn’t respond. She empathised with his anger, his rage, but it was foolish to further harm Aldrich when they already didn’t know how to get out of this situation.

‘I need to show you something. In the woods, I found something.’ she said.

‘Right now?’

She answered, ‘Yes, you have to see it. I don’t know if I imagined it. I saw the strangest thing.’

Nick pulled a quizzical face; he seemed intrigued. Aldrich turned his head and tried to mumble something, but it came out a gurgle.

‘Juliet, could you go and find my brothers, please?’ Nick asked, ‘They can watch over Aldrich.’

A silent nod and she was on her way. She jogged to the extent her wedge boots could handle and brought together the twins. They returned to Nick, and he asked them to keep an eye on Aldrich.

Tom wanted to know what happened to Aldrich, while Tommy demanded that Nick tell him everything. Nick fumbled over his words and tried to avoid the truth for now; he probably didn’t have the emotional stamina to repeat it again. Juliet didn’t blame him.

The three of them argued; it went in circles, and Juliet sighed as it continued. Nick didn’t inform the twins that Aldrich had murdered their mother.

‘I don’t have time to tell you everything right this second. Just watch him, please.’ Nick impatiently said.

Tommy gritted his teeth, ‘Yuh gotta give us more than that!’

‘Why don’t you trust me, Tommy? I said I would tell you, and I will. Just not right now.’

‘Well, you’re obviously not tellin’ us summin’! Just, whatever I can’t be asked. I ain’t standin’ around here in the cold no more. This is bullshit, I’m goin’ if yuh ain’t tellin’. Come on Tom, let’s get outta here.’

Tom looked torn between his brothers; he shifted on the spot, inclining towards Tommy.

Juliet sensed that Tommy was the dominant twin. Even she found him slightly intimidating. She was definitely fonder of Tom.

‘Fine! It’s his fault Mum never came home. It’s his fault she’s dead.’ Nick gave in and pointed desperately at Aldrich.

The twins simultaneously looked at the beaten man against the tree.

For a split moment, there was an awful silence where the air seemed full of prickly cactus spines.

‘I’ll tell you it all when we get back. Juliet said she found something in the woods. We’ll be back in a minute. Just make sure he stays blindfolded.’

The twins were silent. Tommy paced angrily. Tom looked sunken, bewildered and in shock all at once.

‘Just watch him please.’ Nick said.

Juliet led the way through the trees, recalling where the thing had flitted and flashed through the woods.

They sprinted and jumped the roots and fallen branches together. Nick took the chance to hold her hand as they ran. His hand was rough and cold. Juliet tried not to look at the blood.

It was nice to link hands: to be in it together.

Spring came upon them, and Juliet pondered if leaving the twins with Aldrich was such a smart idea or not.

Nick slowed his pace and gently tugged for Juliet to stop. She watched him view his surroundings in wonder. His jaw literally hung open.

He grabbed her other hand so that both were in his now, and she was face-to-face with him. He made a point of looking into her eyes.

‘This is amazing. It’s beautiful.’ he said.

‘I know. I thought I imagined it. I felt like Alice falling into Wonderland.’ Juliet said, and then felt stupid at her lazy comparison.

She hadn’t even read Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland; it was nonsensical to the point that it annoyed her, but she’d seen the 1951, Alice in Wonderland, Disney animation. That was nonsensical too, but she thought that it was watchable… as a child.

‘There’s more to show you.’ she went on, ‘I think it’s this way.’

‘Wait, before we go any further, I want to say something.’

Slowly, she responded, ‘Okay.’

She swallowed nervously and braced herself.

Chapter 17

‘Thank you for saving me earlier.’ he said.

He recalled how urgently he ducked when Juliet screamed, ‘Get down!’ and how deafening the shotgun fire was.

‘That’s okay.’ she responded.

‘I realised that I hadn’t said thank you yet.’

She laughed, ‘If you remember, it took me a while to thank you for saving me from the car.’

‘That’s true.’ he smiled and focused on her warm fingers wrapped in his.

‘It was your mother who saved you earlier, not me. I waited outside the manor and I thought you were taking too long. I realised that something must have been wrong. Then your mother appeared and told me to save her boys.’

In the way Juliet spoke, Nick could tell that she’d become used to spirits appearing. It seemed natural for her to speak of it.

He tried to smile, ‘It was still you who acted so swiftly. You saved us.’ It warmed him to know that his mother still looked out for him. It almost made the whole situation bearable.

‘I know you’ve just found out the truth about her death, and that’s what she wanted, but she obviously still loves you. I hope that comforts you.’

‘It does, but is that all she wanted?’ he asked.

‘When she appeared, she said that you needed to know the truth.’

‘What if she wanted us to find something else here? I know that she helped you save my life, but she put us all in danger coming here anyway. Why did she put us in danger like this? Just so I’d know the truth? I feel like I’m missing something. What about this place? What is it? Why is everything so colourful? Did she want us to find this? And what are we supposed to do with Aldrich? Does she want us to report him or what… or…’ he flinched, ‘kill him? I can’t imagine my mum would have wanted revenge, or wanted us to murder someone.’

‘No, I wouldn’t say she wanted that.’

‘I hope not anyway.’ he said, unsure.

Juliet took one hand away and used it to gently rub his arm. The gesture relaxed him and he took a moment to take in the area.

He couldn’t believe it; there were enormous sycamore trees, fully leaved, green and luscious. The same trees that shrouded his front garden, and they never looked like this in autumn.

Another odd factor was that on the drive to Grendel Manor, as they reached the top of the private road on the hill, he could see all this land in the distance, but he only observed a small group of trees. These trees were massive and plenty. The woods looked endless in every direction.

‘I just can’t believe this place.’ he said. He hoped that Juliet would kiss him; it was the perfect moment… in these fantastical woods, mystical, romantic.

He thought of why she’d kissed him in the car. Was it just the heat of the moment after escaping the manor? What was wrong with this moment? He didn’t want to pass up the opportunity, so he kissed her.

She edged back, seemingly surprised at first, then connected and moved her lips with him. She stepped her body closer. As he slid his arms around her waist, she pulled him towards a tree trunk. She let herself rest against it, and he pushed against her with slow rhythmic thrusting, alluding to his desires.

The kissing turned more intense. He eased a hand under her jumper and felt her bare skin. She dropped her hand to his thigh, teasingly close to the crotch of his jeans.

He slowed off the kissing and drew away. He smiled at her.

‘I’d like to go on a date with you.’ he announced.

Juliet came away from the tree trunk. She realigned herself and straightened up. Her eyes moved; she squinted and seemed to be weighing up the idea, balancing the pros and cons.

‘I think I’d like that too.’ she gave no eye contact, but Nick fluttered inside, pleased with her response.

She continued, ‘But so you know, I despise what you did to Aldrich. I know you were angry and you had every right to be, but you attacked a tied up and helpless man. I think you almost killed him.’

Nick looked down at his feet, ‘I know, I shouldn’t have done that. He taunted me… but there’s no excuse.’

Juliet kissed him on the cheek.

He smiled and said, ‘So what were you going to show me out here?’

‘It’s this way.’ she nodded to the side and began to walk.

He followed her; she forced through a bush and held some braches aside so not to swing back in his face. He hurried through and said, ‘Thank you,’ then found himself in a large open sward.

This place echoed a sense of déjà vu. I’ve stepped back into a memory. I’ve been here. No… I haven’t. He’d seen those steps in the centre before… ancient steps… he’d walked up them? Yes, that was it. He’d walked up, and then he’d been pushed down them, into a pit.

The steps from the nightmare.

A connectedness to everything. He was entwined with the fabric of the universe… even in his sleep, in his dreams. Another ultimately painless form of seeing the future. He ran to the steps, knowing what to expect, to see a pit at the bottom, possibly charred and full of ash, but that’s not what he saw.

He saw a puddle: glowing, blinding. This was not in the awful dream, but it was another mystery answered… Aldrich’s words: They go into the light.

It must be where the sacrificed children were sent. But what was it? He stared at it, paused for a short time, and Juliet joined his side. There was silence, but the bright puddle seemed to audibly vibrate.

A sparrow darted from overhead. It landed a rough five metres away, facing Nick and Juliet. It twitched its head, looked here to there, the way sparrows do, and jumped from spot to spot.

‘I haven’t heard or seen any other birds in these woods.’ Juliet remarked. ‘When I came here a moment ago, it was silent, apart from that pool of light humming the way it is now.’

‘Hmmm, sparrows aren’t that shy, maybe we’ve just scared off the other birds?’ Nick put forward.

‘I don’t know. It’s eerily quiet here, but that pool of light, it’s soothing to focus on. Can you feel it?’ she asked.

He put his mind to the glowing pool and was immensely relaxed by it.

‘But what is it?’ he asked.

‘Don’t call me nuts, but I think it’s a portal.’

‘A portal?’ incredulous, his eyebrows stood up, ‘A portal to where?’

‘The Otherworld.’

He wasn’t so ready to believe in that. Even though he wanted to become a Wiccan in the past and most Wiccans believed in an otherworld, this was just too hard to take in. He struggled with the possibility.

‘What? How could you know that? It could be anything, maybe it’s a natural substance, or maybe it’s manmade. Aldrich could have had this built. There could be lights under the liquid. It just looks like glitter mixed with water and soap.’

‘Do you really believe that?’ she asked.

‘I… don’t know.’ he huffed, but then he focused on the puddle… and he felt better. ‘Maybe it is a portal… or I don’t know.’

‘I saw something go into that pool of light. It wasn’t a spirit, it was something else.’

‘What was it?’ he asked, and then saw how stupid it was to ask. If she knew what it is, then she would have said what it is!

‘I don’t know. It looked like a firefly.’ she said, ‘But if that is a different world through there, then it could have been anything.’ she said in an almost frustrated tone.

Nick laughed, ‘What? Like a fairy?’ he mocked.

She pulled a stern face, and then smiled. ‘Anyway,’ she diverted, ‘I think the portal spoke to me. When I came here earlier, I was thinking about what the pool was, and then as if it read my mind, I heard the answer inside of my head.’

‘This is getting more far-fetched by the minute, Juliet. So now you’re saying it’s a telepathic portal to the Otherworld?’

‘Nicolas, shut up! Stop mocking me, and just ask it a question. See if it responds to you.’ she demanded.

He ignored her unreadable attitude for the time being and looked over at the sparrow. It hopped about; flicking its head around like it was… assessing them?

‘I feel like that sparrow is watching me, I’ve got stage fright.’ he shyly laughed and looked at Juliet. She ignored his comment and waited.

‘Okay…’ he faced the lustrous puddle. ‘What are you?’ he asked.

No reply.

He turned to look at Juliet. ‘Ask again.’ she said.

‘What are you?’ Whatever you are, you weren’t in my vision, he thought.

Then it came from no particular direction: Hello Oracle.

He physically jolted. It just called me Oracle. Does it know I can see the future?
Are there others like me?

‘What’s the matter?’ Juliet leant near him to ask.

‘I heard it.’

‘I didn’t hear anything...’ she looked bewildered. ‘What did it say to you?’

‘I don’t really know what it said…’ he lied, ‘It wasn’t very clear. I’ll try again. What are you?’

It rumbled in his mind: Well, I’m certainly not Moloch.

Nick didn’t want to share with Juliet about the sacrificed children. He would tell her in the future, but she didn’t need to know now. The knowledge of it would only make the circumstances harder for her too.

‘But what are you then?’ he asked impatiently.

: You don’t need to know that.

‘Fine,’ he resigned, ‘then where are you?’

: The Otherworld.

Turning to Juliet, he said, ‘It said it was in the Otherworld. I think it is a portal.’

‘Nicolas, Tamara told me that my soul is in the Otherworld. If I could get it back, I think I would stop seeing the spirits… I’d be normal again.’ She was frowning, and Nick thought she appeared vulnerable.

‘Please don’t tell me you’re thinking of going through that portal?’ he asked reprovingly, and shook his head.

She pivoted, looked away. Then she swung back around and said, ‘It’s my choice. I don’t need your approval.’ she started forward.

Nick grabbed her wrist, then she yanked it free, ‘Juliet, just wait, please. We don’t know what’s on the other side, like you said, there could be anything! Give it a bit more thought, five minutes, and I promise I won’t try to stop you if you decide to go through.’

‘Why should I wait?’

‘Because if you don’t and you go through there now, then I will follow you. Do you want to risk both our lives?’

She gave him a look which could only portray: are-you-for-real? Then she said, ‘If I go through there, and you follow me, then it’s your choice to follow me, and you are putting your life in danger. I’m not taking responsibility for your actions.’

He wasn’t sure if she was purposefully being cold and hard-hearted, but her words stung him. He supposed that what she said was fair; he was an adult and his choices were his own.

‘Okay,’ he sighed, ‘I shouldn’t try to guilt-trip you. But let me ask as a favour instead. Please just give it at least five minutes?’

She looked up at the haloed sky through the tree-tops as if it could provide a solution. Her shoulders lifted and then dropped. ‘Sure. I’ll wait.’

‘Thank you. I’m going to try find out more from it before you make a decision.’

The little sparrow was motionless. Nick thought, Is it watching us? He remembered the seagull in Amiton before the car incident, and the crow that clunked on his bonnet earlier today.

The portal spoke: The seagull, the crow, the sparrow.

‘What?’ Nick responded.

Silence.

He thought about what Juliet had said. That she was thinking about the pool of light when it responded to her. Do I have to talk aloud? Can I speak to it in my head?

: Yes, in your head.

He heard the answer; it felt to be inside of his skull, like his own thoughts. It was pervasive and unnerving to have someone (or something) else’s thoughts so clearly in his mind.

He aimed back at the portal, Okay, why does Aldrich think you are Moloch? What happened to the children that he sent into the light?

: Aldrich is an idiot, desperate to believe in a higher reason for his killings. In the past, he burnt the children in worship to a false god. Now he sends them through here. They are better off on this side.

The portal’s ‘voice’ was clear, but oddly it seemed to say everything simultaneously, yet Nick could pick out and understand the separate strands.

He directed his thoughts again, How many of you are there? What use do you have for the children? Aldrich said he sacrificed roughly one every ten years or so. Why? Are they alive on your side?

: You ask too many questions. Why not come through yourself? Please do, I’d love to have your company. Your first name is Nicolas, what is your full name, Oracle?

No,
Nick mentally replied, desperately trying not to think about his middle or last name, in case the portal read his mind.

Juliet interrupted, ‘Nicolas, are you talking with it in your head? What is it saying?’ she asked.

: Nicolas, Nicolas, Nicolas...

The portal sung his name to a creepy tune. ‘I don’t trust it, Juliet. I don’t think you should go through there.’ he said, almost desperately.

‘Well, I haven’t heard it say anything, so why should I trust your judgement? How am I supposed to know that you’re not hiding important things from me? I’ve seen you keep information from your brothers already.’ she spoke forcefully, demanding justification.

‘I know you’ve seen me dodge the truth, but you know the reasons I didn’t tell them everything. I’m trying to protect them, and I’m trying to protect you.’

Then they heard a male’s voice, panicked and calling for help. Nick and Juliet both shifted to listen out. Whoever was shouting, they were saying, ‘Help me!’ and wailing a man’s scream.

‘My brothers. We have to go back.’ Nick spoke fast.

They rocketed towards the entry bush of the clearing, but before they reached it, they were vaulted off their feet. They tumbled and scraped along the floor. A stentorian boom let loose, and fire billowed from the steps, followed by a cloud of black smoke.

The portal had exploded and the steps began to crumble inwards.

The ground in the centre swirled like a whirlpool, eating up the steps. It sounded like bones and rock scraping, cracking, splitting.

Nick, propped up on his elbows, watched in fascination, ‘What… the…?’ he almost said. ‘I told you we couldn’t trust that portal.’

Smoke caught in his throat and he coughed violently. The explosion, like fire, the steps, the smoke, the choking sensation. No time to think. The explosion had chucked him a good few metres, and his bruises were fresh with pain, again!

The little sparrow was gone; the noise must have frightened it. Nick could no longer hear the demulcent humming from the portal, only crunching and the earth shifting.

Rising to her feet, Juliet stared at the transforming ground, her expression unreadable.

‘My soul…’ she said, low in volume.

‘We need to get back to my brothers.’ Nick stood up and brushed down his clothes.

After a grinding roar that came to an echoing stop, the earth settled into a flat muddy area as if the portal had never been there.

‘It’s gone.’ Juliet didn’t move.

‘We need to go!’

It was colder now. The soothing effect of the portal was no more, and goose bumps prickled over Nick’s skin. He looked up and noticed that the trees had begun to change. Rapidly. Their vivid green leaves browned and withered. The lavish foliage shrunk, giving sight to the brisk white sky.

Crinkled leaves fell from the branches. It reminded Nick of those nature documentaries where they video recorded something over days, weeks or months then played it back, but sped up. This looked the same.

Juliet finally drew her attention away from the buried portal, and headed for the bush. Nick joined her and they ran through the woods the way they came. The beautiful flowers were now rotted and flat. The trees shed their newly-browned leaves; they showered down.

The ground was disappearing in the piling up of autumn leaves. Running became difficult. Nick was mesmerised by it all and wanted to stop and watch the transformation, but he heard the man shout again. It sounded like Aldrich, so he picked up his pace.

Nick and Juliet made it back. A fallen leaf or two had snagged onto Juliet’s black jumper. She stroked them off, huffing at the state of her clothes. Afterwards, she looked up, and then covered her mouth, maybe to stifle a scream?

Tom stood alone, biting his nails, his eyes shut. He didn’t acknowledge their arrival. Tommy was stood over Aldrich, staring down at him. Aldrich was motionless.

The handle of a knife was visible; it protruded Aldrich’s chest. The blade was… sunk into his heart? The knife looked antique, with fanciful carvings. Nick instantly recognised it from his nightmare.

‘Oh, God, Tommy,’ Nick searched for words, his heart throbbed, ‘you’ve killed him.’

Chapter 18

Running aside, Juliet forced down the sick that was determined to come out. Don’t throw up. I can’t throw up. It’s evidence.

The entire situation had changed. Aldrich was dead. She was an accomplice to murder. All the previous errors along the way were stark clear now. Why did she even get involved in all this?

She bent over prepared to vomit in case she couldn’t hold it back, and stared at the leaves and dirt. The ground was a blanket of shadow, growing denser. It must have been past four o’clock; soon it would be too dark to be outside. She focused the sick away and listened to the others.

‘Tommy, why did you do this?’ Nick asked. Juliet heard the frustration prevalent in his voice.

‘What was that noise? That loud bang? And that weird rumblin’ sound?’ Tommy asked, ignoring Nick’s question.

‘It was some odd contraption in the woods; maybe a trap that Aldrich had built, or some kind of machine. We couldn’t tell. It blew up.’ He answered.

Juliet sighed, still arched over, irritated at Nick’s persistent lies. She could understand why he bended the truth about the portal but what upset her was how readily and easily he fabricated reality.

‘Someone might have heard it. They could be on their way.’ Tommy went on.

‘I doubt it; the nearest houses are over two miles away,’ Nick said, fast, and shook his head incredulously. Then he asked, ‘Why did you stab him?’

‘You know why. It’s your fault, yuh didn’t tell us enough!’ Tommy retaliated.

‘What do you mean?’ he was quiet for a moment, ‘Aldrich’s blindfold… you took it off? Are you insane?’

‘Well you can’t just tell us it’s his fault mum’s dead and then walk off.’

‘I said I was going to tell you everything. You could have just waited.’

‘Yeah right, like I can trust you, Nick. Yuh ditch everyone when the goin’ gets tough. Like yuh left me and Tom with Dad. You’re selfish. Always have been.’

Juliet’s stomach calmed itself. She stood straight again but the acid in the back of her throat was uncomfortable. She tried to address the group without having to see Aldrich’s body in her peripheral vision.

‘But why did you take the blindfold off?’ Nick asked.

‘He said he’d tell us everythin’.’

‘And did he?’

‘More than you told us.’

Nick huffed and threw his arms up, ‘How do you know that, Tommy? Maybe he got inside of your head like he did to Juliet. Maybe he wanted you to kill him!’

‘No one can control me.’ Tommy said, defensively.

‘So you killed him on purpose? You murdered him?’

‘What I don’t understand, Nick, is why you didn’t kill him! He stabbed our mum to death. Why wouldn’t yuh want to kill him?’

The two of them bracing their bodies and clashing their egos repulsed Juliet. She stood still, and her mind thought repeatedly about one thing.

I didn’t do it. I’m not going to jail for this.

‘Because I’m not a murderer, Tommy.’ Nick squinted horribly and shook his head. ‘Where did you even get that knife?’

‘I got it from inside the manor…’ Tommy said, as if it was obvious.

A welcome interruption came then, Tom stepped forward, ‘I’m fed up of you two arguing. We have a dead body now. We’ve got to deal with it, or else we’re all in the shit. Any suggestions?’

Juliet respected Tom’s practical-mindedness… but no, she couldn’t help dispose of a body, no way, she was innocent.

‘Take me home now, Nicolas.’ she demanded.

He looked like a struck puppy, deflated and almost guilty for not paying attention to her. ‘But, Juliet, we need to get rid of this body.’ he pointed behind himself, but neither of them peered over at the lifeless thing against the tree.

‘No, we don’t. Tommy killed him, he can deal with it.’ she dismissively waved a hand in Tommy’s direction. She didn’t want to look at him. Then it frightened her realising that she just antagonised a murderer.

‘What did you say?’ Tommy yelled.
Juliet noted how Tommy could pronounce ‘you’ properly when he wanted to make a point.

She refused to answer him. Eyeing Nick, she said, ‘If you don’t take me home, I’ll call the police and say that you dragged me into this, and that you threatened to kill me.’ Thinking about it, it was a ridiculous idea, but she took her mobile out anyway and stepped backwards.

Tommy noticeably tensed his body, ready to chase after her if he needed to, but Nick gave him a scolding look. He turned away.

‘Juliet,’ Nick said softly, extending an arm towards her. ‘I’ll take you home, okay. Let us just sort this out, and I swear that if we get caught I will plead that you’re innocent… I’ll even say that I threatened you with your life, if that’s what you want me to do. Okay?’

He came towards her to touch her arms, maybe embrace her, but she snapped, ‘Don’t touch me! I don’t want to be near any of you right now. It’s cold and it’s getting dark. This body is your problem to deal with, not mine. I’ll wait inside the manor.’

She walked away, but Nick called to her, ‘Juliet, please wait. It’s not a good idea to split off. Let us sort this out first.’

With a great deal of self-restraint, she paused. She didn’t turn around to face them, but simply waited, refusing to reply. The thought of seeing that body was unbearable.

Here she was again, waiting and listening out for the next drama.

‘We could chuck him over the cliff edge.’ Tom suggested.

Nick wearily replied, ‘It’s a long way to carry him, Tom. And it’s getting too dark.’

‘What else can we do? Wait until morning?’

‘No way.’ Juliet interrupted without turning back.

‘Okay…’ Tom continued, ‘The cliff is the best idea. I’m not going to bury the body, and we shouldn’t leave him here.’

‘We’re going to need a torch or something then, or one of us could fall over the edge.’

Juliet wasn’t sure what Tommy was doing during the conversation… Most likely standing around looking belligerent.

‘Aldrich’s probably got a torch in the manor somewhere. We should look.’ Tom said.

‘And get our fingerprints everywhere?’

‘We’ve already done that. I searched the house for a blanket; my fingerprints must be on something. Juliet leaped onto the floor, so that’s her hand prints too. She got Aldrich a glass of water. We handled the shotgun. A bullet scraped Tommy’s arm, remember? There are probably tiny specks of blood on the floor and the walls. We’ve left forensic evidence all over the place.’ Tom listed it all calmly, seeming to calculate a next step.

Nick sounded less centred, ‘We’re going to have to clean everything we remember touching. That’s the best we can do, and if we find a torch, we will come out here and chuck the shotgun and the… the body, Aldrich, whatever, over the cliff edge. Okay?’

‘I have some gloves in my pocket.’ Tom said, ‘I’ll put them on. Don’t touch anything else. Only let me handle objects and we’ll clean everything down.’

The space around them was becoming dark and turbid. The sky was at the stage where dark boldly crept forward and could envelop them at any moment.

Juliet’s black jumper no longer offered much warmth against this late autumn afternoon. The icy air seeped through the fabric of her jeans, and her hands stiffened with cold fingers.

‘It took a long time to walk here. We should head back to the manor,’ Tom said, ‘but first, cover up the body, just in case.’

Juliet heard rustling noises, and curiously turned to see that Tom had bent down, scooped up a pile of fallen leaves and was covering the body. Her glance at the corpse twisted her stomach again, so she looked away fast.

Listening to Nick and the twins camouflaging the body, she thought about the portal. My soul… I can’t get it back. I’m going to see spirits until the day I die. The self-pity drew attention to itself, and she shook her head. Stupid, don’t be stupid. I said I’d make the best out of this situation that I can.

‘Right, let’s go.’ she heard Nick say.

They walked through the gloaming. Juliet could faintly detect the trodden path they followed on the way. Grendel Manor was a giant black monster in the dark, growing as they marched nearer.

Tom used his gloved hand to let them inside the manor. Juliet ignored all three of them, avoided eye contact and walked towards the entry hall.
She passed the statue of the man with a bull’s head, and again felt like it would jump to life. The hallway seemed longer this time, and blackness had snuck into the manor.

When they reached the dried pool of Aldrich’s blood, Nick asked Tommy to search for a cleaning cupboard and locate a mop. Tommy begrudgingly turned to do as asked, and Nick reminded him not to touch anything directly with his hands.

Before Tommy made any progress, Juliet whispered, ‘Wait, can you hear something?’

A metal clicking sound, then all of them stared at the front door. With no time to hide, it swung open and a man walked through: an ugly, stubbly ginger man.

He twitched and paused in his step. He looked at Nick and the twins. His eyes lingered on Tommy’s large frame and then he sighted something on a step of the staircase. The man darted for it.

Juliet had gone unnoticed so far, but Nick and the twins stood paralysed as the man grabbed the shotgun and aimed broadly at them.

‘Why are you here?’ he shouted. His voice was rough. Spittle flicked through his crooked teeth.

‘Woah,’ Nick gasped, holding up both arms in a Don’t-Shoot pose. ‘You don’t need to aim that at us, we’re not dangerous.’
The twins mimicked Nick’s stance, though Tommy’s face was confrontational.

‘Why’s there blood on the floor then? Where’s Aldrich?’ he demanded.

‘Ryan, they’re with me.’ Juliet interrupted. The ginger man appeared startled to hear his name aloud, but he finally noticed Juliet.

‘Juliet? What’re you doing here?’ his face transformed, perplexed.

She replied, ‘What are you doing here? Does Kim know you’re here?’

‘Errrh… Where’s Aldrich?’ he didn’t answer. ‘Is that his blood?’

‘Aldrich’s dead.’ Nick announced. Tom squeezed his eyes shut, as if waiting for the pull of the trigger.

Ryan slowly lowered the shotgun so that it was aimed at the floor. He started to laugh. Juliet watched the faces of Nick and the twins shift and twist. She was equally confused. Ryan’s eyes reddened, he choked on his laughter, and his chest convulsed. ‘He’s dead? You’re sure?’

‘Yes.’ Juliet answered seriously.

He laughed some more, uncontrollably it seemed, and said, ‘You’re not joking, are you?’ Nick shook his head in response.
‘Finally…’ he sighed, visibly relieved… or at least visibly acting relieved.

Juliet watched Nick and the twins exchange confused expressions.

‘You’re glad he’s dead?’ Tom asked.

‘I’ve worked for him for over ten years.  He… he forced me to.’ Ryan raised one hand to his forehead and rubbed the deep wrinkles on it, ‘I’m finally free of him.’

Tommy stepped forward, ‘I killed him.’ he said. Juliet made a tutt sound in her mouth, disgusted at Tommy’s cry for acknowledgement.

Ryan kept the shotgun in one hand but eagerly moved forward and hugged Tommy, ‘Thank you. Thank you so much!’ he said. Tommy stiffened and didn’t hug back, but he laughed in a manly kind of way, as if to say, ‘Sure, any time, mate.’

When Ryan moved away again, he said, ‘So you avenged your mother then.’

Tommy’s expression changed, ‘What? What do you know about that?’

Standing in the large entry hall, their voices carried well. Juliet felt almost like they were on a theatre stage.

‘I don’t know much. Just that she disappeared, and that Aldrich had something to do with it. I recognised you three when I walked in here.’ Ryan’s voice was as coarse as his stubble.

Nick kept his suspicious eyes on Ryan. Tom seemed to be listening intently, but he fixedly looked down to the side.

‘I was about… twenty, I think, when Aldrich made me work for him. He took a fancy to me, showed me what he could do to people. I was afraid. A couple of years later, I saw on the news about your mother’s disappearance. And… and I saw your father on tele. Aldrich made me keep an eye on your family. He was scared, and I’d never seen him scared before that. He made me keep tabs on you lot for a good few years.’

‘You didn’t go to the police?’ Tom asked, no judgement in his voice.

‘Of course I didn’t. Aldrich would have killed me, and then tricked the police. For some reason he was afraid of you three boys. I… I didn’t have a choice.’

‘How do you remember all of this?’ Nick looked impatient and worried; he tapped his fingers together. ‘Did he not use his ability on you?’

‘No, I don’t think. But, all my memories could be fake, to be honest. He could have made me do anything, but if he did, I don’t have any gaps.’ Ryan squinted, ‘I can’t believe he’s dead.’

Juliet stood, dumbfounded, and watched them talk. She was appalled by how casually they talked about murder; they even seemed happy in fact. Ryan still had the skill to send shivers down her spine. Creep. This was the most she’d ever seen him talk. When he’d picked Kim up the other night, he was curt and short in words.

Harry!
She remembered the spirit that visited her in the kitchen. Don’t trust Ryan. Ryan’s not who he says he is.

‘You had Aldrich kill Harry, didn’t you? Harry Cracknel?’ she threw piercing eyes at Ryan. He shifted on the spot; the shotgun swayed at his side.

‘How do you know about Harry?’ he asked, hesitantly.

Juliet shook her head in horror, and let out a tense breath.

‘Kim told me that they were head over heels with each other, then out of the blue he dumped her. He said he never wanted to see her again, amongst some other nasty words, and then vanished from her life.’

‘Errh…’

‘You had Aldrich use his trick on Harry to make him dump her. Then you killed him, and made him disappear, like you both made Samantha Crystan disappear.’

‘I… I love Kim. I wanted her for myself.’ he fumbled on his words. ‘I spent too much time with Aldrich. I was younger then. He told me my job had to have some perks, and he wanted me as a companion. He was extremely old and lonely… He told me that he never wanted to use his ability on me.’

‘Stop talking about Aldrich! It’s not about Aldrich.’ Juliet yelled, ‘Why should I let Kim stay with a murderer? I should tell her about you. You know…’ she laughed bitterly, ‘Kim thinks you’re such a sweetheart doing support work!’

‘Don’t tell her, please. Aldrich paid me a lot… I have money. I can give her everything she wants. And… and…’ he paused and looked at the dried blood on the floor, ‘Where’s Aldrich’s body? I can help you out.’

Nick butted in, ‘Hold on. Who’s Kim? Who’s Harry? And how do you two know each other?’

Juliet clenched her teeth. She didn’t want to talk to any of the Crystan boys. She sucked up her pride and speedily explained how she knew Ryan.

Ryan asked again, ‘Where’s Aldrich’s body?’

Tom looked up and told Ryan where the body was, and how to find it.

‘Juliet,’ Ryan started, ‘I’ll clean up Grendel Manor; I’ll get rid of all the evidence and dispose of his body if you promise not to tell Kim anything? Please, I love her. I did what I did because I was young and, and, I was afraid of Aldrich, and… Kim was beautiful.’

As input, Tommy said, ‘Sounds like a good deal to me.’

It was obvious to Juliet that Ryan deeply loved (or was at least unhealthily obsessed with) Kim, but could she let her best friend stay with a man like Ryan? Did she have a choice? She simply wanted to get away from it all. Her body ached and was most likely bruised all over.

‘This may be the best option we have, Juliet.’ Nick said. ‘But can we trust him?’

‘You can trust me.’ Ryan said in a desperate tone. ‘I’m in your debt. You’ve saved me from having to work for Aldrich for the rest of my life.’

‘I’ll trust you if Juliet trusts you.’ Nick made clear.

Is that meant to flatter me, Nicolas?

Juliet’s mind was hell; Don’t trust Ryan. But I have to; how else will we get out of this? What about Kim? She can’t stay in a relationship built on blood and lies. But, I don’t want her to go through the pain of breaking up with her boyfriend of four years! And Nicolas, I was falling for him, but now all I see is his murderous brother, and Aldrich’s gruesome body.

She hated it; she strongly believed that telling the truth was the moral thing to do. But now she had no choice but to lie to her best friend. What would Ryan do if she took Kim away from him? Would anyone here be safe?

I have to get away from this place.

‘We can trust him.’ she decided.

Ryan said in a whispery relieved voice, ‘Thank you.’

‘Okay then, let’s leave this place.’ Nick nodded at Ryan, and headed to the front door. The twins followed, but Juliet waited.

‘You better treat Kim like royalty.’ she threw at Ryan.

‘I will, I swear.’

He looked down at his feet. His shifty eyes were too creepy on that pale, blemished face. Juliet would never know what Kim saw in him. Ryan kept his head lowered but peered at Juliet, and smiled. From the angle he was at, it was almost like a sneer, but Juliet cautiously gave a neutral look to him.

As she exited Grendel Manor, she felt that awful paranoia again, like earlier when she’d realised that she’d left the shotgun on the step and when she pondered if leaving the twins with Aldrich was a good idea or not.

Was it another mistake to trust Ryan?

She sure hoped not.

She got in Nick’s car. Tom and Tommy were already in the back, so she sat in the front.

‘Just take me back to Chanton.’ she said.

Chapter 19

Small, rough stones flung into the air as Nick pulled away in his black Vauxhall Corsa. Parked on the gravel area was a silver Peugeot 206; it hadn’t been there when they’d arrived so it must have belonged to Ryan.

Nick drove fast over the private road then towards Chanton.

Juliet, Tom and Tommy were silent. The tension in the car was palpable. Nick was angry at Tommy for always affronting him; he repeatedly reminded himself to cool down, drive safely.

The mixture of sadness and anger, guilt and fear, and shock and grief was cruel. Juliet can’t stand to look at me. He glanced sideways at her but she stared out the car window into the dark.

He realised that he ached to walk to the edge of the cliff and see where it was that Aldrich pushed over his mum’s body inside of her car. It would be like visiting her grave. But now it was too late. He could never return to Grendel Manor.

The silence was thick. As he drove, the shadowy, wiry trees of the roadside taunted him. He finally knew what had happened to his mum, but was anything any easier now? Was he any happier?

Chanton was in view. ‘Stop here.’ Juliet said in a cold voice.

It was still a long walk to Chanton from where they were, ‘I can drive you closer.’ Nick said sheepishly.

‘I said stop here.’

He pulled over and Juliet opened the door and stepped out. She arched over and looked inside the car, not quite at Nick, but distantly past him.

She said, ‘Delete my number. If anything ever leads back to me, I am placing everything on you three. I never want to see you again.’ Her voice started out solid, but Nick thought he detected a crack towards the end.

With a slam of the door she walked away.

‘Yuh definitely ain’t gettin’ any now.’ Tommy commented.

Nick swung his head around, ‘You can walk back to Amiton if you carry on.’ he spat the words.

‘Urgh. Chill out.’ Tommy puffed his chest and let it go, then looked away angrily.

Nick started the car back up. He drove towards Amiton. His eyes welled a little at the thought of Juliet’s strict words. Did she mean it? He looked at the moon, hazily visible through island clouds. He didn’t know why, but gazing up at the moon gave him a sense of hope.

Maybe things weren’t so bad? He barely knew her anyway. And Aldrich was dead. They were off the hook.

When he pulled into the drive of his dad’s house, he turned to face his brothers in the back. ‘Please don’t tell Dad anything about this yet.’ he said, quiet, ‘I’m not ordering you around so don’t be annoyed, Tommy, but we have to be delicate about this. Dad needs to know so that he can finally move on. He deserves to know, but I think we should all tell him together, okay?’

Tom nodded and then Tommy did too,

Nick half smiled and said, ‘Thank you, I’ll come over in a couple of days and we’ll talk to him. We all need time to clear our heads first, so we can talk to him sensibly.’

‘Yeah,’ Tommy grumbled, ‘and I’m starvin’.’

The mention of food made Nick’s stomach grumble. He hadn’t had any lunch and it was early evening now. He grimaced at the sudden pain in his belly.

‘Me too.’ he replied. ‘Oh yeah, Tommy, your arm… hide that scab from Dad. And your jacket, the sleeve is torn off.’

Tommy fidgeted taking the jacket off completely then bundled it up to hide the torn part. ‘I’ll chuck out my jacket and I dunno, tell him I cut myself at college.’ he laughed a bit dopily, ‘I liked this jacket.’ he manoeuvred the passenger seat in front of him and hunkered out of the car. Nick watched him walk towards the front door.

Before getting out the car, Tom leant close to Nick, ‘Can I come over your house later? I still need to talk to you. After everything today I just want to get it off my chest.’ he said plainly.

Nick had almost forgotten about Tom’s personal matter, ‘Yeah, that’s fine. I’m going to eat first and shower. Do you want me to pick you up?’

‘No, I’ll drive over. Text me when you’re ready. I like to drive. It helps me think.’ he got out of the car and gently closed the passenger-side door.

Although the drive back had been awkwardly quiet, it really did seem silent now. Nick reversed out of his dad’s drive and headed home. He arrived within a couple of minutes.

The trees that shrouded the front garden reminded him of the woods on Aldrich’s land. He hurried out of the car and got inside as soon as possible. The first thing he did was strip off his clothes. They were filthy, stained with mud and grass.

When he caught himself in the mirror, he gasped at the bruising that covered his naked body. The longer he stared at it, the more it hurt. He tried to cheer himself up by laughing about it. I look like a rainbow.

He put his clothes in the washing machine and ran a shower. The shower was a place of thought, and he didn’t wish to think just yet. He wanted to be clean, have some food and have everything back to normal.

Lathering every inch of his body, he hummed a random tune to distract his mind until he rinsed himself down, stepped out and dried his body. He tried hard to ignore the sheer agony of the bruises.

He found some new clothes to wear: a baggy hoody and joggers to lounge around in. Then he pecked at a bag of crisps while he microwaved a tomato and cheese pasta bake meal.

When his stomach was full and bloatedly sick from how fast he ate, he plodded to the snug and flumped down onto a beanbag chair.

The ceiling was discoloured and needed repainting. He stared up at it and let his eyes close. Sleep took him but he awoke an hour later. He checked the time on his mobile to make sure he hadn’t overslept, and to see if Tom had text him yet.

The nap refreshed him, so now really was the time to think.

The tears came. Mum… He cried for twenty minutes straight, staring at an imaginary pit of darkness where hope didn’t and couldn’t exist. On the edge, he could have easily slipped in.

Not yet, no.

He’d been there before. Depression. He knew that forlorn place; it had a paradoxical comfort to it, the safety in hiding away from life, not being able to face the day; succeeding in not failing by not even trying, or was it failing to fail, or failing to try, or…?... he shouldn’t want that relationship with Depression again; he’d been on the steady climb.

No, it’s too easy to be depressed.

But he stayed close to the pit for now. They’d been long-time huggers after all.

His mind lingered.

I never want to see you again.
He hadn’t realised how much he wanted to meet a nice woman until he met Juliet. He’d avoided serious relationships for a long time, and now that he wanted one, he couldn’t have it with the woman he desired.

Sullenly, he thought, Janet Morgan could always set me up with someone, like she said she could.

An image of the glistening portal came to his mind. What was that thing? He thought about the children. The portal had saved them from being sacrificed into fire, but where were they? They’d still been taken from their parents, and what was on the other side? Was it really better on that side?

He imagined all the things that could have been in the Otherworld: exotic beings, magic, fantastical landscapes, deities, ghosts, demons, fairies, all types of mythical creatures. Or maybe he was getting carried away again. Maybe it was another pit of no hope in the Otherworld. But if there were other beings on that side, then what use did they have for human children?

The portal’s gone; it buried itself, there’s no point thinking about it.

Even with the portal gone, he made a spur-of-the-moment promise to himself: if he ever found another way to the Otherworld, then he would try to find Katie Baker and discover the fate of the other children who vanished over the years.

He plodded on to pondering the life of Aldrich. Was he immortal? He’d hinted that he was extremely old… Nick almost wished that Aldrich was alive. Aldrich and Juliet were the only other people with paranormal abilities that he knew about. Now he couldn’t talk to either of them.

Then his heart twanged, reminding him of how Aldrich murdered his mother. He screwed up his face and said mentally, I’m glad he’s dead. He can’t ruin any more lives now. I’m glad.

Did he regret not killing Aldrich himself? I, erm, no, I’m not a murderer. Tommy did what Nick couldn’t morally do. If Tommy had murdered an innocent person, Nick would have wanted nothing to do with him… but this was Aldrich, and that made it almost acceptable, right? Though, he wasn’t sure if he could look at Tommy in the same way ever again.

He stopped thinking for a moment and walked around the house. He marched frantically, burning off whatever emotional chemicals that coursed through his body. Thursday was a few days away, and Caroline could help him understand his thoughts, yes, but no, she couldn’t, how could he tell her about these things? No way.

With a return to the beanbag chair, he text Tom to let him know he could come over. Tom replied and said he’d be there in fifteen minutes.

Nick was tempted to try bring on a vision of the future. He knew now that he could do it at will. It worked before. Actually… it didn’t work, it was inaccurate and Aldrich wasn’t where Nick saw him in the vision. Nick did see his brothers though… and they did come along, so he was right about that.  Also, dreams were a way of seeing the future. Through imagery, but it was an extra layer to his ability at least.

I’m an Oracle.
He recalled the portal’s words. If the portal recognised him, then did that mean there were others like him? Were they on the other side? Am I AN Oracle or THE Oracle? It was exciting; his mind riled itself up, he was about to jiggle in the beanbag chair apprehensively, but soon began to worry about it, stepped closer to the pit.

Could he be in danger because the portal recognised him? He had no idea what the beings on the other side thought towards Oracles or The Oracle or whatever.

Worry did its usual thing and brought with itself more material to torment him with. He mulled over whether Ryan could be trusted to adequately destroy evidence. It seemed too good to be true; the way he conveniently showed up.

Then Nick gave up ruminating things. He came to a conclusion.

He decided that more mysteries had been opened up than solved, but that’s life; he couldn’t always find closure for everything.

All this time he’d been trying to force peace upon himself. Most the self-help and spiritual programmes that he’d practiced taught acceptance and non-judgement, but it had never truly sunk in.

In his reflective mood, he remembered a time when he sat on a pebbled beach to the south of Lansin Island. On the beach, he was cross-legged and held his palm facing upwards. In the centre of his palm he placed a perfectly spherical pebble. He wobbled his hand side to side so that the pebble bounced around, and he observed the way he could feel its evenly distributed weight. There was a kind of symmetry to it all, the little stone would roll and jump about in his moving hand but always return to the centre in the end. Even when he fiercely shook his hand, he could sense if he’d rocked the boat too much and if the pebble would fall away or not. Maybe land in the pit.

Right now, he saw himself as that pebble, and his life as the palm. Before the vision of Juliet falling to her death, he’d worked hard to find balance. He was sure that the right mixture of self-help exercises and a degree of ‘enlightenment’ would keep him in that centre. Then he had the premonition and his life shook more wildly; he was in danger of going over the edge. Finding out that paranormal abilities were real, that there was an Otherworld, discovering how his mum was murdered, falling for Juliet so suddenly, coming close to murdering Aldrich… the pebble hopped around like mad.

But for this moment, he managed to bring himself back to that centre. He recalled something that Juliet had said to him on the way to Grendel Manor: that it was always better to know the truth so that you could learn and grow from it.

Confidently, he took a mental leap away from the pit.

He found himself now experiencing a deep acceptance of the situation. No giddy excitement, no worry for future, no doubts of his ability, but instead: a solid and humble trust in life.

Chapter 20

Luckily, it was dark. Juliet didn’t want people to notice the stains that covered her clothes. Her walk was fast but the cold still numbed her face. The day wasn’t so harsh when the sun was up, but now it was bitterly cold.

The dark was unwelcoming. She felt vulnerable walking home. If she hadn’t been so proud, or so disgusted, she could have been dropped off closer. Outside again, she clenched her fists, fed up with how much of the day she’d spent outdoors.

She arrived home and headed straight for the shower. As she undressed and turned the shower-dial, she began to cry. Her chest heaved and she sunk to the floor. Murder. The word danced wickedly in her mind.

Tommy had ruined it for her and Nicolas. She’d begun to like him and even wanted to go on a date with him, but now all she saw was murder, murder, murder. Aldrich’s bloodied body was there in her mind, imprinted, a permanent scar.

She thudded her leg repeatedly and screamed in frustration, knowing it would bruise her. When her arm ached and her leg was numb, she stopped. The sound of the shower running began to calm her. She stood again, feeling the wounds and scrapes of the day and struggling on the leg she’d just beaten. The exploding portal had thrown her a few metres and she’d met the ground with her left shoulder. Now it throbbed.

Climbing into the shower, she sighed. The water was sweet on her body. It caressed and comforted her. Harry Cracknel, I didn’t exactly help him. Her legs wobbled and the guilt soaked her up. Kim will be treated better now, Ryan is free to be a good person and support her financially. Maybe Harry would be content with that; that Kim was safe and happy. Or did Harry want revenge?

She shuddered. Revenge: like what Tommy got for his mother.

Was that what Samantha Crystan wanted? Juliet wasn’t sure, but she was satisfied that she’d done more than enough for Samantha.

Then the worst thought came to her. What if Aldrich appeared as a spirit? Could he do that? Was he even human? If he wasn’t, would he leave a spirit behind? Did he have a soul? The thoughts were enough to shiver bumps down her body. She got out the shower fast and grabbed a towel.

After drying herself, she put on a mocha silk dressing gown. It was blissful to be clean and feel the loving material on her skin. She walked across the upstairs hallway and stopped when a spirit appeared. The muscles of her abdomen contracted and she launched back a step.

The air fizzled around the spirit as if it didn’t belong in the fabric of this universe. It was Samantha, and this time she was smiling.

‘Thank you, Juliet.’ she flickered statically.

Juliet’s organs were caught in her throat. She’d expected Aldrich to appear; maybe to push her down the stairs. My heart can’t take this on a regular basis. She found a breath and reassured herself.

‘You’re welcome.’ she nodded.

‘Juliet, please don’t be so hard on Nicolas.’ then Samantha vanished.

That wasn’t like the way Rowena Howard ‘moved on’.
Juliet contemplated why Samantha hadn’t dissipated into nothingness like Rowena had. If Samantha Crystan hadn’t moved on, then would she be coming back again?

Although Juliet was happy to have helped, she desperately hoped that would be the last time she ever saw the spirit of Nick’s mum. It was unfair that Samantha asked her to be less hard on Nicolas. It wasn’t him who’d frightened her. Tommy was the repulsive factor. She couldn’t be with Nicolas and not think of what Tommy did.

Choices that she’d made led to Aldrich’s murder. Nick would only be a reminder of her stupidity.

An acidic grumble in her stomach reminded her that she hadn’t eaten since the morning. She couldn’t imagine eating a full meal just yet; the thought of it nauseated her. She went downstairs and cautiously ate a breakfast bar.

She walked to the downstairs living room and curled up on the sofa. She thought about when the redecorating of Chanton Hillview would be complete. She wondered how much of the Diet and Nutrition home-study course she had left. She mentally stressed about how little Spanish she’d learnt so far. She remembered how last minute she cancelled her Sunday shift at the charity shop she volunteered at. She imagined having to keep up her exercise routine. She gazed wearily around at the size of her house, and then huffed, picturing the scale of the garden in her mind. It required so much maintenance. Then she got annoyed knowing that she’d taken on all of it by choice when she didn’t need to.

It’s just too much.

Under her skin, it was like tiny screaming worms wriggled about, pushing and pulling her in different directions. She wanted so badly to get away, go somewhere, anywhere. It seemed as if the room she sat in was crushing down upon her, treating her as a small, helpless and pitiful thing.

With a new determination she stood up, returned to the bathroom, searched the filthy jeans she’d left on the floor and found her mobile. She was about to tap out a text to her mother, but realised she had a message from Roy.
She hadn’t checked her mobile since she’d been sat on the toppled tree in the woods.

The text read:

Some1 came 2 work 2day. Looking 4 u. They r going 2 visit u later.

She shook her head at Roy’s lazy text. Her first thought was ridiculous but caused a panic. She thought it was the police looking for her. It couldn’t have been though, Roy would have said and also, how could they know about Aldrich before it even happened? Stupid.

Thinking of the police, she put her stained clothes in the wash in case the dirt was evidence somehow. She didn’t know a lot about that sort of thing.

Whoever was looking for her was going to visit tonight, so she decided to just wait and see. Maybe they’d already come by her house when she wasn’t in, and if so, she could ask Roy about the person when she next saw him.

She opened up a new text and added her mother as the recipient:

Hi, Mum. I’m going to come to Spain for a few weeks.

I need to get away from this island, just for now.

Can you book me flights for Wednesday please and can I stay with you and Dad?

Wednesday would be fine. It was short-notice but she could close Chanton Hillview if Roy didn’t want to cover her for that long. The money didn’t matter, she’d pay the staff whether it was kept open or not. She supposed she could wait till she got back to see how the new décor looked.

There was a knock at the front door. Her thumb hovered over the send button. She placed her mobile on the sofa without sending the text and anxiously advanced on the door. She half opened it.

A woman stood outside. Her hair was silvery grey, thin, but shoulder length. She was short and wore a thick, brown winter coat, a grey scarf and grey gloves. Juliet recognised her features but the woman’s skin was too leathery and wrinkled. The resemblance was uncanny. It couldn’t be.

The woman’s eyes glistened with delight as she smiled. Her teeth had the yellow sheen of age and were uneven, but her smile was beautiful and genuine. It is.

Juliet swung the door open fully. Her jaw dropped, looking like a shocked yawn, and her eyes stirred with tears, ‘Gran?’

Chapter 21

Low patters came from the front door, and Nick moved to answer it. Tom waited on the porch. He gazed around at the massive trees and said, ‘If I get bird crap on my car, I won’t be happy.’

Nick laughed, ‘I can’t make any promises I’m afraid.’

Tom came inside and Nick closed the door behind him. They walked to the end of the hall where the kitchen was. It was obvious to Nick that his brother was looking at the unfurnished state of the room, the cracks in the walls, and the depressing look of the place.

‘I could help you do this house up. If you wanted.’ Tom said.

Nick huffed light-heartedly and replied, ‘Thanks. That would be nice if I had the money.’

‘Can’t Mora take you on full-time?’

‘She’s already employed more people than she needs. I wouldn’t want to ask.’

‘Hmm… have you looked anywhere else for a job?’

‘No. I like my job. It’s just the pay that’s the problem.’ he frowned. ‘Never mind though.’ he waved a hand dismissively and said, ‘I have your DVD still, I’ll go get it.’ he ran to the snug and double-checked the DVD was in the case, then returned to Tom and handed him Big Fish.

‘Thank you.’ Tom smiled.

‘So,’ Nick began cautiously, ‘are you happy to talk in here?’

‘Yeah.’ Tom sat down at the small kitchen table. It wobbled when he rested his elbows on it.

Nick ran himself a glass of water from the tap and offered his brother a drink. Tom politely said no, then Nick joined him at the table. He sipped the water and waited.

‘I’ve been dating Michael for a few months now.’ Tom said without preamble.

Some liquid choked in Nick’s throat and he coughed. ‘Michael Welding, my colleague at Creaky Crystals?’ he asked through a raspy voice.

‘Yeah.’ Tom avoided his eyes and looked down at the table.

It was a shock, not a bad one, but unexpected. Nick definitely didn’t have the art of being non-judgemental, seeing as he’d stereotyped Michael as a typical pretty boy, and in turn, a heterosexual.

Also, Tom had only recently started to break away from mimicking Tommy, so Nick had almost overlooked that Tom was his own person, evidently interested in different things to his twin.

Tom looked up slowly and his eyes were red. ‘You’re not freaked out are you?’ he asked.

‘No. I’m not in the slightest.’ Nick shook his head emphatically, ‘But I am shocked that Michael’s gay!’ he laughed.

Tom noticeably relaxed and snorted in agreement, ‘I think he was surprised at himself too. We haven’t told anyone else.’

‘Does he know you’re telling me? I don’t want it to be awkward at work now.’ Nick asked, a little judgementally.

‘Yeah, I text him and let him know that I’m telling you tonight. He said you’re nice to him at work and he hopes you’re cool with it.’

‘I might pretend to shun him now. Make him feel awkward.’

Tom cracked up with laughter, ‘No! Don’t do that, Nick.’

When they both stopped laughing, and a subtle quiet grew upon them, Nick asked, ‘Are you planning on telling Dad and Tommy?’

He imagined Tommy’s reaction, and it wasn’t pleasant. Tommy didn’t seem the type to understand, but then, Nick had already made a good few false presumptions so far.

‘Errm, I don’t think Tommy’s going to be cool about it. We shared a bedroom for years and we used to talk about women together and stuff. He’ll be weirded out I think.’

‘Hmm.’ Nick wasn’t sure what to say.

‘And Dad never asks us about our relationships at all. You know him; he doesn’t talk about sex or anything like that. It would be awkward to tell him.’ Tom slanted his mouth into a fed-up smile.

‘You’ll have to tell them at some point though. If you and Michael are serious, they are going to find out eventually and it’s better to hear it from you. And I’m not saying this to put pressure on you, but if you don’t tell them, then I have to lie to them about it too... if they get suspicious.’

Tom looked a bit indignant at his older brother’s analysis, but then he sighed, ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t think about that.’ he paused, looked around, ‘I’ll tell them soon.’

‘Okay. If they are weird about it you can always move in here for a while. I hardly use the living room, so it’s spare.’ Nick suggested without much thought.

A fleeting look on Tom’s face worried him. It was a look of intrigue, like he quickly calculated something in his mind. Nick already regretted the passing offer of letting his brother move in. He could barely afford to support himself.

‘Thank you, Nick. I’ll keep it in mind after I’ve told them.’

Tom stood up and ran himself a drink of water. Nick watched the way he did it as if it was his home, You’ve not moved in yet! he joked in his mind, partially bitter. Then he made an effort to stop worrying about it and let himself feel good instead.

A smile came to his face. It was pleasant to know that Tom trusted him with such a secret. This was certainly a new level of friendship with his brother. Tom sat down again and gulped his glass of water down in one go.

Nick asked, ‘How do you feel about the whole Mum thing? And everything that happened today?’

‘It’s going to take me a while to stop thinking about how she died. But I don’t know. She was already out of our lives. I’d given up hope years ago. I don’t feel any grief, only anger. The thing I can’t get my head around is what Aldrich could do with his eyes.’

I could tell Tom.
He considered telling his brother about the visions, but he decided against it. He was desperate to tell someone but he didn’t want to burden Tom with it. It was a relief to share it with Juliet, but now she wasn’t going to be around for him.

‘Yeah, I don’t understand it either.’ he said wearily.

Tom replied, ‘Maybe hypnotism? Psychology or science might be able to explain it somehow.’ he shrugged his shoulders and left it at that.

They talked for a while longer. Tom spoke about quitting college. He’d only picked Construction because Tommy did, but now he couldn’t stand it. He mentioned that Michael was on the same course, but Michael enjoyed it and wanted to continue.

While Tom spoke of his boyfriend, Nick could see his love for him in his eyes. Nick chided himself for the jealousy that rose in him; jealousy over Tom having someone special, yet somehow Nick had screwed up his chances with Juliet.

Feeling jealous was pathetic; he brushed it off. I’m happy for Tom and Michael. I am.

During their conversation, it began to rain outside. A heavy downpour. Nick hoped that it would wash away any footprints or evidence of him and the others being on Aldrich Grendel’s land.

It reached ten o’clock in the evening, and Nick stretched a look at the dusty kitchen-clock. He yawned and apologised to Tom.

‘No, it’s my fault. I didn’t realise it was so late. I’ll get going.’

Nick didn’t protest but he reminded his brother that he would come over soon so they could all speak to their dad together. Tom showed himself out while Nick waddled to his bedroom and slid into bed.

He slept easy.

*

Getting out of bed the next day was a problem. His body was stiff, his bruises were swollen in places, and ordinary movements sent pain up and down him.

He got ready for work as fast as his injuries would let him, then left his house. On the way, he walked stoically through the lower grounds and sighed at how plain it looked now that Halloween was over. He’d already seen it looking dull after Halloween before, but today it seemed more drab than ever.

Soon the stores would be decorating for Christmas, and lights would be going up in the streets. Some shops had already started advertising Yule and Winter Solstice products, aimed at the local Pagans. All eight Sabbats (or festivals) were celebrated on Lansin Island to some extent, but none of them as hyped up as Samhain, due to commercialism and tourism.

He got to work, just on time, as his limited movement slowed him down. The other staff didn’t seem to notice his physical discomfort, which was good. For the first hour or so, he kept to himself.

Michael started work an hour after Nick and had been avoiding eye contact since he arrived. Nick went over to him, tapped his shoulder, pulled a disapproving face, and said, ‘You deceitful git.’ he shook his head, but started to laugh.

‘Are you alright with it then?’ Michael slurred, awkwardly looking anywhere that wasn’t Nick’s face.

‘Of course I am. I’m happy for both of you. You’re probably the two nicest guys I know. You’re well suited for each other.’

Michael’s shoulders lowered and he breathed out with a low laugh. ‘Thanks, Nick. I really like him.’

‘From the way he spoke about you last night, I think he really likes you too.’

Nick thought about Juliet again and frowned inside. Then he had images of Aldrich’s dead body in his mind and remembered the gloopy portal. It was jarringly surreal to compare the previous day with this normal workday. He dismissed the thoughts. What was done was done.

Maybe Juliet would contact him in the future. Doubtful, she never wants to see me again, and I don’t exactly blame her.

‘Where’s Alan today?’ Michael asked.

With a sudden tightness in his chest, Nick panicked that Alan was meant to be at work today. He’d been preoccupied with the revelations about his mum’s death, so he’d put aside his worries about Alan.

‘I haven’t seen him, and I only said a quick hello to Mora and Janet.’ he answered.

‘Oh, he’s meant to be in today.’

Michael smiled at Nick then shuffled over to a customer. He hadn’t noticed the light bruises and scratches on Nick’s neck. That was good. Hopefully nobody else would either.

Nick found Mora and asked her why Alan wasn’t at work.

‘I don’t know, Nicolas. He didn’t call to let me know he was having the day off, and I can’t get through to his mobile. I’ll try him again later.’ she twisted up her mouth in a worried expression, and her green eyes shifted thoughtfully. ‘It’s not like him.’ she added.

‘I’m sure he’s got a good reason.’ Nick replied, purely because he didn’t know what else to say. He wished that Alan would never come back, after what he’d done to him, but he also felt sorry for Mora who was too trusting, and oblivious to it all.

He imagined how awful it would be if the police came in at any moment and arrested him, or if someone came in with news about the owner of Grendel Manor being murdered or mysteriously disappearing. But nothing did happen. For some unknown reason, he trusted Ryan to clean up the evidence.

Later on, a handsome blonde-haired guy entered Creaky Crystals. He was tall and toned and everything he wore was designer. He glanced around the store in a way that only a confident man would, his chin high, his lips pursed, and his eyes serious. He found who he was looking for.

‘Nick, buddy, how you doing, man?’

‘Fin, what are you doing here? I thought you had a contract in London.’ Nick couldn’t help but smile as he hurried to hug his best friend. Fin squeezed him tight, too tightly in fact; Nick winced to ignore his painful bruises, then Fin slapped him on the back a few times for good, friendly measure.

‘Yeah, buddy, I’ve still got the contract. They’ve paid me half upfront. I’m literally rolling in it!’ he said, loudly, with a winsome smile, ‘And I’ve got a couple of months to give them the finished plans, so no big rush. I went out to survey the areas a couple of days ago. I’m going again soon, man.’

‘Sounds like you’ve got it all worked out.’ Nick remarked. Fintan was a garden designer. He’d studied it as a subject but it was also his father’s line of work, so he’d learnt a lot from him.

‘Yeah, man. But I came in to let you know I’ve got more free time than I thought I’d have; this contract’s easy. It’s for some apartments, they want balcony gardens, so I just have to do one design and then they’ll copy and paste it for the standard apartments, and I’ll do some fancier designs for the penthouse balconies. Easy. Anyway, if you still want to hang out, then this weekend’s good for me, buddy.’

The smile was impossible to stop from appearing on Nick’s face. Fin was the perfect person to talk to about the visions. They’d been friends for as long as Nick could remember. Growing up, they’d discussed every subject under the sun. Fin would understand.

Will he understand? Would I believe him if he told me?

Nick would find a way to ease into the discussion, maybe he could even try bring on a vision in front of Fin to prove it. He’d think of something. It had been ages since he’d spent time with his best friend, so just the idea of socialising with someone who understood him was a comfort.

‘That sounds great.’ Nick smiled, ‘I’ll call you later in the week, yeah?’

‘Nice. See you around then, bud.’

Watching Fin leave the store, Nick grinned, then a harsh finger prodded into his back. He swivelled on the spot.

‘Owwwwwch.’ he exaggerated.

Janet’s face was unimpressed, ‘Oh, come on, Nick, man up! That didn’t hurt.’ She changed her expression fast to a more pleasant one, ‘I’m going to set you up with someone, okay? I’ve decided. You’re wasting your life. I bet you’re hunky friend Fin has a girlfriend.’

‘I don’t think he does at the moment, actually.’ said Nick.

‘Hmm, well… this isn’t about him. It’s about you, and you need a woman.’

He shrugged as a response. Janet looked at him quizzically before talking again.

‘What’s wrong with you, Nick? You’re not protesting or getting all irate like you usually do.’ she frowned.

‘I don’t know. Maybe you’re right. Maybe I should try to meet someone.’

She squealed with excitement and slapped Nick’s arm. Her brown hair bobbed on her shoulders as she celebrated, ‘I know the perfect girl for you. I’m going to talk to her mum tonight and sort something out. Oh! And I’ll do a Good-Luck-With-Love spell for you tonight. Send some good energy you’re way.’

Thanks, I need it!

He thought about Juliet, again. This time his outlook was more positive. Maybe it was necessary that he met Juliet; so that he could feel ready to date again.

It doesn’t have to be Juliet.

‘Oooo, how exciting, Nick.’ Janet said, and sauntered off with a wide gummy-toothy smile.

It was turning out to be a good day. Nick was happy for Tom and Michael, he was excited to hang out with Fin and share everything on his mind, and now it seemed the right time to date again. There must be other women out there as intriguing as Juliet.

Stop comparing to Juliet. She’s out of the picture!

‘Okay.’ he agreed with himself aloud.

When he got home that night, he found himself wondering if magic rituals or spells worked. Local Wiccans like Mora and Janet ‘casted’ spells for simple things like protection of their family and property. Did the spells actually work? Surely not, else there would be more people practicing magic. Wouldn’t there be?

Seeing the future was possible and seeing ghosts, and there was an Otherworld, And don’t forget the telepathic portal for Christ’s sake!

But was that magic? Did those abilities really give any control over anything? He thought that magic was used to influence things, like levitating objects or mysteriously making things disappear. He’d related wishes with magic too, like wishing for and receiving wealth, other material objects, fame or power. Or was magic more subtle than that? Were apparent coincidences actually magic at work?

I think too much.

Before going to bed, Tom rang and said that Tommy was getting anxious and wanted to talk to their dad already. Nick stressed that he would come over in a couple of days, and that it was important that they tackle telling their dad in the right manner. Tom said he’d persuade his twin brother to calm down and wait.

He slept easy, again.

Chapter 22

Juliet stared at the elderly woman in front of her. Her grandmother look-alike had a warm smile on her face.

‘Juliet,’ the old lady said, wistfully. Then she stepped forward to embrace her granddaughter, but Juliet took a sharp step back.

The air around the woman wasn’t twitching. It looked normal. Juliet cautiously extended her right arm and touched the lady’s shoulder. She was solid.

‘You’re not dead.’ she confirmed out loud.

‘Dead? Sweetheart, why would you think I was dead?’ The aged version of her grandmother asked. Even as the woman spoke, Juliet nostalgically recognised her voice.

‘You died when I was thirteen.’

With a bewildered expression, Juliet’s gran said, ‘Is that what your mother told you? That I was dead?’ Juliet nodded as a reply. Her grandmother continued, ‘I knew my daughter could be spiteful, but I never expected she would tell such a lie.’

‘It really is you, Gran. Isn’t it?’

‘Yes, sweetheart.’

The way that her grandmother said ‘sweetheart’ was gentle and authentic. Juliet heard her mother’s voice in her head and noticed the stark contrast between the mechanical, false manner in which her mother spoke to her, and how genuine her gran sounded.

‘I don’t understand.’ Juliet started. But then she did understand. The sudden realisation hauled along with itself a mountain of anger.

Why? Why would my mum do that?

‘Where have you been for the past twelve years?’ she asked.

‘May I come inside please, Juliet? I’m letting the cold into your home.’

Juliet stepped aside. Her grandmother walked slowly and prudently in her age. She paused to admire the house.

‘It looks so different to how I remember it,’ she said expressively, ‘Although, I can still see you stood right there, Juliet.’ her gran pointed at a spot in the hallway. ‘It’s a funny memory; you ran up to me and asked if my hair was really a wig. Oh, I had to laugh!’ and she laughed again now, a genial hoot, ‘Your father always told you little fibs about me. Do you remember?’

It took a moment, but Juliet recalled the memory and how awkward she felt at her gran’s reaction, ‘I remember, yes.’

Her gran laughed some more, ‘And now years later I still have my hair. It may be grey, but at least it’s mine.’

‘You look wonderful, Gran. But, I, I need to know why you haven’t come to see me for all these years.’

‘Of course, I know. I would love to sit down. Do you have tea? I can make it myself.’

Juliet nodded towards the kitchen, ‘I’ll make it. How do you have it?’

Her grandmother said how she liked her tea while they walked into the large kitchen. Juliet motioned a hand towards the dining table. Her gran sat down.

While the tea brewed, so did Juliet’s mind.

Why did Mum lie to me?
In her thoughts, she stirred the moment when she told her mother about the car incident. The way her mum showed so little concern; she might as well have been talking about the weather.

Juliet startled herself; she accidentally slammed the drawer shut when she got a teaspoon out. Her body was tense with anger.

‘Are you okay, sweetheart?’ her gran asked.

‘I will be in a minute.’

With a deep breath, she finished preparing the tea. She realised that she didn’t know her gran’s name. It had always been ‘Gran’ to her when she was younger. After her grandmother ‘died’, she never asked her parents questions about her, or if she did, she didn’t remember.

‘What’s your name, Gran?’

‘I go by Lillian Kitchener now.’

‘Kitchener? That’s not my mother’s maiden name.’

Lillian smiled in an almost sad way, ‘No, it’s not. I’ll explain.’

Juliet passed over the cup of tea and offered to hang up her gran’s coat. Lillian took off her grey gloves, put them in her coat pocket, then removed her scarf and coat and passed them both to Juliet.

After hanging up the coat and scarf near the front door, Juliet returned to sit down. She sat with a straight spine and waited.

‘I’ve been living in England.’ Lillian began, ‘In fact, I’ve always lived in England, in Bath. I used to visit here to stay with your parents, and so that I could see you.’

Juliet remembered now that her gran never lived on Lansin Island. She recalled the excitement each time she knew her gran was coming to stay, and then there was the sudden news that her grandmother wasn’t going to be visiting again. She clenched her teeth, resenting how heartless her mum was to tell a thirteen year old that their gran was dead when she wasn’t.

‘You were about eight, I believe, when your parents won the lottery.’ Lillian continued, ‘You must recall moving into this house, and suddenly going on more holidays and having everything you wanted bought for you.’

She did remember. Memories of the house she used to live in were faint. It was a small townhouse in Amiton, and that was all she cared to remember. But she had strong images of the first time she ever saw the house she lived in now. The size of it was like nothing she’d ever dreamed of at that age.

‘How did you know that Mum and Dad weren’t still living here now?’

‘I didn’t. Not until today. I just wanted to see you. If you’re mother or father would have answered the door… then I wouldn’t have left until I got to see you.’ Lillian nodded as if to affirm to herself that she really would have stood her ground to see her granddaughter.

She went on, ‘I came here this morning but no one was home. I knocked at the house across the road. The gentlemen there told me that you lived here alone and that you owned the Chanton Hillview café. He reckoned you’d be working today. So I headed over. It was closed but I knocked away on the door, and a lovely black man came to talk to me. He told me you weren’t working today, so I resolved to come back here this evening. I’ve been on quite the adventure!’

Not compared to the one I’ve been on.
Juliet had brushed aside that she’d been held at knife-point, her mind had been invaded and taken control of, she’d dodged shotgun fire, and she was thrown a few metres by an exploding portal and then witnessed a murder so far today. For now, it was easier to ignore it all, with this new discovery that her gran wasn’t actually dead.

‘Why wouldn’t my mum or dad let you see me?’

‘Your mother and I had a disagreement. It was her decision that I couldn’t see you anymore.’ Lillian answered.

‘What did you disagree over? And why would you listen to her? You could have disobeyed her and let me know that you were alive.’ Juliet’s voice steadily raised.

‘I didn’t know that she told you I was dead. I thought that maybe you would seek me out when you were older.’ she began to cry, softly. She sniffed and shook her head guiltily.

‘No, don’t cry, Gran. I didn’t mean to raise my voice at you. I’ll get you a tissue, one moment.’ Juliet found her handbag and passed her gran an open packet of tissues.

‘Thank you. It’s not your fault that I’m upset, sweetheart. I do blame myself for not coming to see you.’ Lillian’s voice faltered occasionally through her sniffling, but it grew in strength as she went on, ‘It was my pride that stopped me.’

‘I still don’t know what you two argued about.’

‘I should give you some understanding first. Your mother was a single child and she was always a daddy’s girl. My relationship with her was never stable. When your grandfather died a few years before you were born, your mother and I struggled to get on. When she had you, we started to get along again, for a while.’

Juliet listened attentively. It was interesting. She’d always taken her mother’s lack of talk about Lillian to mean nothing. She’d never thought it was because of long-lasting relationship problems.

‘We had a few arguments when you were very little.’ Lillian shook her head, ‘Your mother thought I was interfering, trying to tell her how to bring you up, but these were never significant arguments. It was when your parents won the lottery that it became worse. I couldn’t stand the way they treated you, sweetheart. Everything became about money. They spoilt you, but that wasn’t the problem. What I didn’t agree with was that when all you needed was a hug, a kiss, or a bit of attention, they didn’t know how to give that to you. They would buy you a needless gift and ignore your emotional needs.’

Under the table, Juliet’s hands were shaking and her body joined in. It was the truth of what her gran said that shook her. She’s never cared. Never. Her body felt warm, almost sweaty. She realised that she was still in her silk dressing gown.

‘I’m going to change into something else, one moment.’ she left the table before her gran could respond. She hurried upstairs and closed herself away in her bedroom.

I don’t want to cry.

The thought of her parent’s money in her bank account annoyed her. She didn’t want the five thousand that they forced on her so that she could ‘treat herself’ after the car incident. She decided to give it charity. But… the house she lived in was given to her by her parents. They bought her the Chanton Hillview. They’ve always thrown money at her.

She couldn’t give it all away. She closed her eyes hard, not wanting to look at the wealth around her. It was nothing compared to what she truly wanted. How could she talk to her parents now? How could she ever feel close to them after this? The thought of their lies made her blood run.

Then she wondered if her gran even told the truth or not. Her instincts told her that Lillian was being honest. It seemed that Lillian knew how to feel love and how to show her emotions. Juliet bitterly wished that Lillian had passed those traits down to her daughter, Mrs Maystone.

How much time had passed since Juliet came upstairs? She’d left her gran downstairs waiting: simply got up and left midway through her gran’s explanation of the past. She shook her head at how rudely she’d treated Lillian.

She slipped off the mocha silk dressing gown and tossed it onto her bed. Hunting for anything comfortable yet presentable, she settled on silver skinny jeans and black socks, and then threw on a plain black tee-shirt.

‘Oh, Juliet. Look how tall and beautiful you are.’ Lillian was sat exactly where Juliet had left her. ‘Your home is wonderful. You have your own café. You are doing so well for yourself. You were always perfect to me, and I knew you’d stay that way.’

Juliet accepted the compliments, uncomfortably, and tried a considerate smile.

‘Will you tell me the rest of what happened please?’

‘Of course, sweetheart.’ Lillian held her mug in wrinkled hands, showing that she enjoyed the warmth of it. ‘Ah yes, so I confronted your mother about the way they ignored your needs. I was rather opinionated at the time and said that they didn’t deserve to raise you. You deserved loving parents.’ she gave a significant nod.

Juliet wasn’t sure how to feel.

‘It escalated into the most dreadful row. It makes more sense now that your mother told you I was dead. I remember vividly my daughter screaming at me, “You’re dead to me, get out of my house!” She said she never wanted to see me again and that I should never come anywhere near you.’

‘And you just left?’

‘I did.’

‘But, for twelve years?’ Juliet asked incredulously.

With a doleful nod, Lillian said, ‘I started a new life. I remarried to a man named Miles Kitchener. He died from a stroke three months ago. We were coming up to nine years of marriage.’

‘I’m so sorry to hear that.’ Juliet chided herself for the way she judged her gran for not returning. She tried to imagine what it would be like to have your own daughter disown you and cut you off from the only family that you know. She realised that she couldn’t blame Lillian for starting a new life.

‘Thank you, sweetheart.’ Lillian had a distant look in her eyes. They weren’t teary, but Juliet got the impression that they were braving through the tears. She must have grieved a lot the past few months. ‘When Miles died, I knew instantly that all I wanted was to see you again. I waited until now because I wasn’t in my right mind. But before it’s my time, all I want is to know you.’

What do I say back to that?

It was impossible for Juliet to be annoyed at her gran. Her gut emotions wanted to empathise with her completely.

‘I haven’t eaten yet. Would you like to stay for dinner?’ the words spilt out of Juliet’s mouth. They felt right.

The most complete smile came over Lillian’s face, and she stood up. She came around the table to Juliet with her arms held out.

Juliet got up from her chair and hugged her grandmother. She had to bend slightly to accommodate the height difference. Her shoulder still ached from the portal exploding, but that didn’t matter right now.

When Lillian stepped back, Juliet wanted to test something. She wasn’t aiming to be manipulative, but it was important to her.

‘Gran,’

‘Yes?’

‘I was almost hit by a car a couple of weeks ago. It would have killed me. I was stood next to a drop, and I think it would have thrown me over.’

Lillian’s face screwed up indignantly. ‘That must have been terrifying. Oh, Juliet, come here, sweetheart.’ She motioned her arms and pulled Juliet in for another embrace.

In their tight hold, Lillian rubbed Juliet’s back reassuringly. Juliet struggled to remember when her mum last hugged her.

‘I don’t think my mum has ever hugged me.’ she said. Her voice gave way to candid sobbing.

Lillian only held her tighter, then came away to look her granddaughter in the face.

Simply, Lillian came out with, ‘I’m here now.’

At Juliet’s cheeks, she planted loving kisses.

Chapter 23

Wednesday at work, Nick observed Mora’s behaviour; she seemed contrary. She would plod around, being her usual cheery self, and then she’d stop and look sullen every now and then. She’d put her lunch break at the same time as Nick’s and told him that they needed to talk.

When it was time for their break, Nick and Mora went to Deirdre’s to eat. Nick liked the place less when it wasn’t decorated for a holiday. The tablecloths were a clinical white. Everything else was in plain, blocked colours. He was fond of Deirdre’s, but he missed Halloween already.

‘Alan’s quit work.’ Mora blurted, without warning.

‘Oh.’

‘Nicolas, I don’t know what’s came over him. I finally got through to his mobile yesterday and he said he wasn’t coming back to work again, he was sorry but he couldn’t face it. What’s that all about? He’d been asking for overtime a while ago. He’d never expressed any other grief at work before.’ her face scrunched up, and her green eyes had a sad glisten to them.

‘Odd.’ Nick replied. He fiddled with his fingers under the table, and his legs bounced up and down nervously. Telling Mora the facts about Alan was tempting, but she didn’t deserve the hurt. Juliet had said it was always better for people to know the truth; he shouldn’t coddle people.

I don’t care what Juliet thinks.
He decided that it was simply cold-hearted to tell some truths. I wouldn’t tell one of my friends that they’d gotten fatter if they’d put on the slightest extra bit of weight! He realised that that wasn’t the most relevant example, but his point was that the outcome was the same: The truth would hurt the other person, and it wasn’t necessary for them to know.

‘I’ve known him for years.’ Mora trailed off in thought.

‘Maybe he’s just having a hard time. He might come around.’

With a shake of her head, she replied, ‘No. I don’t think he will. He was very clear that he would not come back. He said nothing could change his mind. Stubborn man.’

‘I’m sorry to hear that.’ he still twiddled his fingers under the table, but his legs had stopped bobbing up and down. Alan wasn’t returning to work, which hopefully meant he would leave Nick alone, and no one would ever know what happened between them.

‘Something’s different about you, Nicolas.’ Mora squinted as if her green eyes could dig out the difference in his face, ‘You seem more grown up all of a sudden. Or maybe fed up!’ she went into one of her giggle-fits. Some other customers in Deirdre’s looked across at her cackling, though not in a judgmental way. She had one of those laughs that made heads turn to locate the source.

When her laugh subdued, Nick said, ‘I’m okay, Mora. Still the same old me. I think, I… I just feel better about my past. Better about Mum’s disappearance. I hadn’t realised how I’d let it hang over me for so long. I thought I was more over it than I was. But now I think I can actually move past it.’

Mora smiled compassionately. ‘You have grown up.’ she laughed gentler this time. ‘If you ever want to talk, you know I’m all ears.’

‘Thank you, Mora.’

‘Anyway,’ she jiggled suddenly, like she’d remembered something that would have been fatal to forget, ‘I put our lunch at the same time for a reason, Nicolas. If you can and if you’d like to, I’d love it if you could work full-time at Creaky Crystals. Now that Alan’s done a one-eighty, you can have his hours. What do you say?’

‘Yes, please!’ the answer popped out.

Perfect.

Now he might actually earn enough money to have a bit to spare each month. This gain made getting beat up worth it. The attack was horrible at the time, naturally, but the bruises were in the process of healing now. He could hide away the traumatic memory. Essentially, he’d traded a week or so of physical pain for what would hopefully be a long time of mental relief. When it came to money, at least.

When Nick returned to work with Mora, he smiled so wide that he couldn’t hide it. Mora let Janet and Michael know about Alan and that Nick was going full-time.

‘Congratulations!’ Janet scurried over to him. ‘I think that today is your lucky day.’

‘It’s been pretty good so far.’

Janet walked side to side and smiled at him with mock guilt, ‘I have a confession to make.’

‘That doesn’t sound good.’

‘Mmm, it could be good if you let it be.’ she bounced her head left to right.

‘Okay… Go on.’

‘You know I said I’d set you up with the perfect woman? Well, she wants to meet you, and I think she is perfect for you. The thing is... you already know her. But don’t judge too fast! She’s changed so much these past couple of years. Even I can see that.’

Who on earth are you setting me up with?!

He rapidly said, ‘Just tell me who it is already.’

‘It’s Kerra Evans.’

It was like his brain dislodged itself suddenly. His mind took a leap back into memories he’d locked away somewhere. He wasn’t sure if the shock on his face showed or not. Janet widened her eyes, waiting for a response.

‘My ex?’ he asked.

‘Yep. But honestly, she’s grown up so much, and she regrets the way she treated you before. She’s been asking after you for a while now. She wanted to know that you were doing well. I told her you’re doing fine and that you’re single and I’d see what I could do.’

Nick had known that Janet was friends with Kerra’s mum, because they’d discussed  his past before. Though, he hadn’t realised that Janet had been discussing his present life with the Evans family.

‘You know she cheated on me repeatedly?’ he asked, incredulity in his voice. But, even as he said it, he knew that he could forgive Kerra if she’d really changed. She was his first and only long relationship so far. The only woman he’d ever fallen in love with.

‘I know, I know. But she really wants to see you again. People can change, Nick.’ Janet said in a whiney tone.

He believed that people could change. Sometimes, (usually when he felt low) he wondered if Kerra had been his ‘soul-mate’ and if he’d blew his chances somehow, and then he’d never meet the perfect woman because he’d already had his shot with her.

That’ stupid.
But after all the good and bad times that he’d been through with Kerra, he was certain that he could love her again. He knew he’d never forget her. But she’s not Juliet. Stop! I fancy Juliet, that’s all. I don’t love her. She’s just a good-looking woman that I’ll never see again. Full stop.

‘Alright, tell Kerra I’d like to see her. Maybe go to the pub for a drink first and see how it goes?’

‘I knew you’d come around. Oh, Nick! You won’t regret it.’

Janet spoke with him for a while longer and he told her a day that was good for him to see Kerra. Towards the end of the conversation, he was surprised at how anxious and excited he felt about seeing his ex. Maybe she really had changed.

Before the end of his shift, Michael came over to congratulate him on getting a full-time position. Michael then expressed how much he’d miss Tom at college because Tom had decided to drop out.

When Nick arrived home, he checked his bruises in the mirror. They were less swollen already, but still vivid in colour.

He rang Tom to let him know that he would come over tomorrow evening. They could tell their dad everything then. Tom said that he and Tommy were free then, so that was fine.

In bed, as he tried to doze off, he made an effort to recall the good experiences he’d shared with Kerra. He managed to fall asleep with a positive mood and a calm smile on his face.

Thursday was a day that he always had off of work so that he could see his counsellor, Caroline. That might have to change now, as he was going full-time. He’d probably be working more of a Monday-to-Friday and nine-to-five pattern.

He made a decision.

In his black Vauxhall Corsa, he drove to the nearest corner-shop and bought a ‘Thank You’ card, a box of chocolates, and one of those gift-vouchers that could be used in multiple stores. He put ten pounds on the voucher; he didn’t even grumble at handing over the note.

After returning home, it took a good while to find a pen. Then he wrote in the card:

Caroline,

I know you’re not supposed to accept gifts from clients, but I won’t tell anyone if you don’t! And anyway, I’ve decided that I’m not going to attend our sessions anymore. You’ve helped me to understand myself better than I used to, and I think things with my dad are going to improve from now on.

I’m not upset as often as I used to be and I think it’s time that I try to face my problems alone.

Thank you for everything. I wish you the best luck in the future.

Nicolas Crystan.

He slid the voucher inside the card, then the card into its envelope, and scribbled ‘Caroline’ on the front.

At the surgery, he arrived for the session at the usual time and handed over the card and chocolates. He let her know that it would be his last session.

‘I trust your decision, Nicolas.’ she said, sat across from him. She nodded approvingly. ‘I’m going to have to sneak these chocolates out of here, or they won’t let me keep them.’ she tittered. ‘If you feel like you want to see me again in the future, then call the reception and we’ll sort out an appointment. There may be a waiting list though.’

‘Thank you, Caroline.’ he said.

Caroline had the rest of the hour before the next client would arrive, so Nick updated her on his full-time position, and about his set date with Kerra. They chatted like friends until the hour was over. Caroline wished him good luck with Kerra and with his job, and then they parted with a handshake and warm smiles.

He left the surgery hoping that he wouldn’t regret his decision. He could see that he’d been living as a stunted adult since he moved out of his dad’s house. So now it was time to sort his life out: Full-time work, a girlfriend, stable family relationships, start saving up if he could, and he might finally have the money to decorate the bungalow.

I’m having a fantasy moment. Getting carried away again. But what’s the harm in dreaming?

The afternoon passed by in his happy state and he did some food shopping. He spent a little more than usual. When evening arrived, he realised something: I’m not bothered about my ability to see the future. At least not now.

It had occurred to him that he could try to use it will as he did before. Maybe even direct it to see if he’d ever meet Juliet again or find out if things with Kerra would work, or to discover if and how Ryan would cover up the death of Aldrich.

No. Just let things unfold as they should for the time being.

He was certain that he would use it at some point in the future. He wanted to. Just not now though. Plus, the premonitions seemed to have consequences, and he didn’t want the hassle. Maybe a vision would force itself upon him again, but he hoped not. Not until he was ready again.

It was time.

He’d figured out the best way to present the matter to his dad. He mulled it over as he drove away from Maw Street and around the corner.

He would tell his dad about Aldrich’s ability but not about Juliet’s or his own. He’d lie and say to his dad that Juliet searched him out and told him she’d remembered seeing Samantha Crystan drive past her on the day that she disappeared. And also that Samantha stopped to ask Juliet which direction Grendel Manor was in.

If his dad asked why Juliet never went to the police at the time, then he would say that she was young, only seventeen then, and didn’t know what to do. Also, he’d point out that it wouldn’t have made a difference anyway, as Samantha would have been dead by the time Juliet said anything.

The only difference would have been that the police would have visited Grendel Manor, and Aldrich would have killed them, wiped their memories or brainwashed them into thinking he was innocent. So it turned out best that Juliet didn’t alert the police, or they’d never have found out the truth.

It would be best to omit what he found out about the missing children. His dad and brothers didn’t need to know.

Then the rest of the story was the same as the twins had witnessed. Aldrich’s ability didn’t work on the boys completely, and they managed to get him to tell them what happened to their mum. But maybe Nick would alter one more part: he’d tell his dad that Tommy killed Aldrich in self-defence, not in anger.

When he arrived, he remained in his car for a moment. How could he go from having next to zero heart-to-hearts with his dad in the past eight years to jumping in the deep end and talking about the event that created the distance between them in the first place?

With the fingers of his right hand together, he began tapping the centre of his left palm. I’m calm, I’m focused, I’m calm, I’m... SCREW IT. He flung his arms in the air and laughed at himself. It was a low chortle of resignation. He’d already thrown in the towel with counselling. If he was going to be his own therapist from now on, then he didn’t want to be doing relaxation techniques every time he got nervous.

He tilted the rear-view mirror to face his own reflection. The hazel green-brown eyes looked back at him. He pointed at his duplicate and said, ‘It’s normal to get nervous sometimes.’

After nodding at himself in agreement, he got out the car and approached the door, admittedly anxious, and then knocked.

Tom let him in, and the two of them hustled up the stairs to discuss the conversation plan with Tommy. Nick explained how he intended to tell their dad. Tommy protested on some terms and expressed that he felt a bit ‘in the dark’ about some matters. Not everything matched up. Tommy agreed after some persuasion, and Nick led the way downstairs.

His shaky hands pulled out a dining-table chair, and then he sat down. Tom and Tommy plonked down on the same side, with Nick in the middle. Tom had asked their dad to join them. He made clear that it was important.

Sat across from them, John had a slumped posture. He faced his sons. His grey hair looked matted from a long day’s work, and his mouth was set in a subtle frown. His heavy green eyes waited, curious.

Everything’s okay.

He’ll be able to move on now.

Finally.

He can stop waiting.

The dining-room clock ticked, highlighting the silence that waited to be filled.

‘Dad,’ Nick said with nervous dry lips.

John seemed to sense the weight in Nick’s tone, ‘Yes, Nicolas.’

‘We, uhhh, we have something to tell you.’ He stuttered, ‘It’s about Mum.’

Chapter 24

Lillian didn’t stay on Monday night. She’d booked herself in at Tilly House, a hotel lucky enough to have a great view of the hills and the sea together. Juliet thought about letting her gran stay at her home. In the end, she didn’t say anything, but she did walk with Lillian to the hotel.

On the way back, she regretted offering to walk her gran to the hotel. When someone came around a dark corner, she jumped with fright. Her mind wondered if she was safe knowing that people existed with abilities like Aldrich’s. Could someone make her disappear the way that Aldrich made Harry Cracknel vanish from Kim’s life?

That night, she made an attempt to process the day’s events. Her mind shielded most of it out. Before going upstairs to her bedroom, she made certain that every window and door was locked tight. She drew every blind shut. Although she was terrified to be home alone, and worried that the police would come knocking or that Aldrich would appear as a spirit, she fell asleep in exhaustion.

She woke in the night; her body soaked in cold sweat. Did she have a nightmare? She couldn’t recall, but was too fatigued to think. She rolled over to the other side of the bed and let sleep take her again.

*

On Tuesday, she met with her gran, and they reminisced over when Juliet was very young. They stayed in Juliet’s home to talk at first, but later went for lunch, then for a walk along the cliff edge and up to the hills.

Juliet noticed that Lillian didn’t lack in energy. She had a cautious, elderly walk about her, but she kept up her pace and performed each action with vigour. With her mind on the subject of good health, she began to move her injured shoulder in circles. It didn’t hurt half as much as it did the day before. Had it healed already? She decided that she would check that evening.

On their walk back along the cliff edge, Juliet felt certain for a moment that she would go to the police. She would turn Tommy in. Even though she felt awful for the Crystan family, because of what Aldrich did was wrong, the law was in place for a reason. Two wrongs didn’t make a right.

I can’t though.

She shook her head. Because of all the weird circumstances, she couldn’t go to the police. Also, she hated the idea of herself being linked to a murder case.

‘What’s on your mind, sweetheart?’ Lillian looked quizzically at Juliet. The wind flicked Lillian’s silvery-grey hair about. It was a good time to be heading back; as the sky steadily darkened.

‘I’m just thinking about Mum and Dad.’ she hated lying, but what other choice was there that she hadn’t already considered?

‘I understand. You take your time.’ Lillian nodded appropriately, and they walked the rest of the way in a gentle silence.

When it was early evening and black outside, Juliet asked her gran to join her for dinner again. After they’d eaten, she suggested that Lillian stay for a while with her, at least for the rest of the week. It would be nice to have someone in the house. She’d feel safer, maybe.

‘Are you sure, sweetheart? I don’t want to be in the way.’ Lillian replied, beaming a smile like she’d already got the answer she hoped for.

‘Yes, I’m sure, Gran. It’s a big house, there’s plenty of room. I think this house deserves to be used more.’

‘Thank you. I have my bag at the hotel. I’ve only packed a couple of days’ worth because I wasn’t even sure if you still lived in Chanton.’

Juliet smiled and said, ‘Don’t worry about that. We’ll go shopping tomorrow.’

Having slept a lot the night before, Juliet had difficulty getting to sleep. She must have lain awake for a long while; her sense of time was off, she found her mind going into dazes. The images of Aldrich’s gored body were out of reach. Maybe she blocked it out?

I don’t need to face it now.
Again, it was the exhaustion that took her. Her restless mind kept her awake until it couldn’t do it any longer.

In the morning she remembered her nightmares this time. She’d dreamt of warm, sticky blood on her hands, and Aldrich with a terrified face, dragging himself along the floor away from her. Stab wounds were all over his body. Then the nightmare jumped ahead to her being incarcerated. In a filthy cell, she was startled by a noise. She turned to face the spirit of Aldrich. At that point, she woke up. Luckily it was morning and she didn’t have to try to sleep again.

After a pleasant breakfast with her gran, the day was spent shopping in Amiton. She took care to avoid Creaky Crystals. The last thing she wanted was to bump into Nicolas Crystan. She’d begun to relax by now. The police hadn’t visited her yet and there’d been no news of Aldrich’s murder in the media. Ryan seemed to have kept to his word so far.

She couldn’t stand the thought of her parents.  She refused to think about them. A decision to not contact them was made. She would wait and leave it down to them. If they even cared enough to notice that their daughter hadn’t spoken to them in a long while, then they would make the effort to reach her.

She found volumes of clothes that she wanted to buy for her gran. Lillian protested at first but eventually came around to her granddaughter paying for her clothes. She seemed to have what Juliet considered an old-fashioned view about money; she almost cringed at the sight of it, as if it was the root of all evil, and like it was only honourable to spend money that was earned through a hard day’s work. Maybe it was the root of all evil. But Juliet didn’t think so; she appreciated money and everything it allowed her to enjoy. She also realised that with her wealth she could afford to help others on a regular basis. She donated large amounts to charity each month, and the only way she could afford to continue giving was to ensure that she stayed financially well-off.

While shopping in Amiton, she received a text from Roy. In the text, he asked her to come to Chanton Hillview tomorrow. The new décor was complete.

With the help of Lillian, Juliet scoured the shops in Amiton for ‘Thank You’ presents for her staff. For Roy and Sandra, she bought a bottle of champagne and a box of chocolates each. For the underage Ashleigh, she bought a box of chocolates and a bracelet. As gifts to share, she purchased a cake and a variety of gift vouchers for popular brands. For presentation purposes, she hunted for a large wicker basket and some ribbon. The last bits she added were a bouquet of flowers and a few bags of sweets.

With their bags and bags of shopping, Juliet and her gran booked a taxi home. Juliet enjoyed getting the bus, but it wasn’t practical with so many items to hold.

Lillian helped her granddaughter label the gifts, and then they put it all into the large wicker basket with a ‘Thank You’ card and tied the ribbon into a fancy bow around the handle.

Juliet stayed up late that night, talking with her gran. It would help her sleep. When she retired to bed, she fell asleep excited for the next day.

Thursday morning, she stayed in bed to think.

Blocking out what she’d experienced wasn’t something she could do forever, and she knew that. Soon she’d have to face her emotions. She couldn’t see a dead body with a bloody knife sticking out and not be affected in some way; as much as she wanted to ignore it and get on with her life.

She knew the horror and the worry was still there inside of her, but if she could focus on her excitement about the café, then those problems would stay away for now.

She got up and ready to go to Chanton Hillview. She insisted that Lillian come with her to see it.

Roy, Sandra and Ashleigh were all stood outside when Juliet arrived with her gran.

‘Cover your eyes, Juliet!’ Roy shouted as she approached, he added a friendly rumble of a laugh.

Juliet turned away so that she couldn’t see into the café. She walked up to her staff, keeping her eyes drawn away, and then handed the heavy basket of gifts to Roy.

‘These are for you three. Thank you so much.’

Sandra’s face lit up, ‘Awh, Juliet. That’s so sweet. You didn’t have to.’

‘I wouldn’t thank us too soon. You haven’t yet seen the state we’ve left your café in.’ Roy teased.

Even though she knew he was joking, she panicked slightly in anticipation.

Ashleigh must have noticed because she chimed in, ‘Oi, Roy!’ she paused to laugh at her accidental rhyme then continued, ‘Don’t worry, Juliet, it’s not in a state. You are going to love it.’

Ashleigh jiggled on the spot and squealed giddily. She could cheer anyone up.

‘Who’s the beautiful young lady with you?’ Roy asked Juliet.

Lillian laughed instantly and replied, ‘Young? I think I like you.’

‘This is Lillian, my grandmother.’ answered Juliet.

All three staff members exchanged greetings with Lillian. Roy gave Juliet a confused stare when no one was looking. He’d spoken with Juliet about her family before and knew that all her grandparents were dead. Juliet leant closer and whispered in his ear, ‘I’ll explain another time.’

‘Okay.’ Roy nodded.

‘Juliet,’ Sandra said in her hard, brassy voice, ‘your hair looks fantastic. Have you had highlights put in?’

‘No, it’s the same as always…’ she answered. That was two people now who’d noticed a difference in her hair. She’d marked the change herself; it was brighter, more lustrous than ever. Another strange thing was that when she checked her shoulder a couple of nights ago, the bruising was gone. It was completely healed now, as if she’d never injured it.

‘Come on ladies,’ Roy addressed everyone, ‘let’s take her inside.’

Sandra reminded Juliet, ‘Cover your eyes.’

With her hands up over her closed eyes, she heard the café door open and then felt hands at her elbows and back. They guided her inside. She laughed at her own lack of coordination. Someone tugged at her to stop walking.

‘You can look now.’

She lowered her hands. Her eyes almost didn’t want to open, but she slowly forced them to.

The walls were painted a pale tan colour. Roy had purchased the exact furniture that she’d shown him: chrome coffee tables, and chairs a shade darker than the walls. Near the glass wall with the hill view there were low, square indoor benches with red tables that protruded from the walls. The floor stayed unchanged; it was a medium brown hardwood, and Juliet was pleased to see that it matched the new décor better than the previous furnishing.

She didn’t know how they’d managed to redecorate the whole place in just over a week… well actually, she did: Sandra was the hardest working person that she knew; if you gave her a list of tasks, she’d be done the first one and onto the second before you had time to blink. The only problem Juliet had with Sandra was that her diligent style sometimes transferred into bossiness when she spoke to others.

Roy could also be efficient and organised when he wanted to be, and he must have switched into that mode for the week of redecorating. The staff even managed to have new lighting fitted. There were warped square light shades when she looked up. They were red and the way they were positioned spilt the artificial light across the ceiling unobtrusively.

The daylight from the glass wall made electrical lighting less necessary. Towards the entrance where the natural sunlight couldn’t fully reach, there were a couple of red table lamps.

From the front door, the first thing Juliet’s eyes picked up on was the view of the hills. Exactly as she had wanted. She was drawn straight to it and knew the customers would be too. The neutral tan, brown and chrome scheme set the mood, and the dashes of red were optional distractions that weren’t officious enough to be jarring.

She hadn’t realised that while she took it all in, everyone else was waiting for her to say something. Her hands were drawn up together, partially covering her mouth with her fingertips gently on her lips.

‘It’s perfect.’

Roy and the others made various cheerful, jubilant sounds. ‘You had us worried there.’

Lillian put her hand against Juliet’s back, ‘Your café is beautiful. Sweetheart,’ she paused to come stand in front of her granddaughter, and then looked up at her, ‘I always knew you would do well for yourself.’

It was strange. Juliet suddenly saw how lonely she’d been before. She only noticed it in contrast to how much she enjoyed the company she was in now. It didn’t upset her to realise it; but instead, she decided to take it as a lesson.

She smiled then said, ‘Let’s put these shiny new tables to use. We have cake to eat.’

Chapter 25

Free At Last

Ryan Fraser watched Juliet walk out the large front door of Grendel Manor. The smile he’d pasted to his face was hard to maintain. But now she was finally out of sight.

Stuck up bitch.

‘You better treat Kim like royalty, meh, meh, meh!’ he mocked her last words aloud, all to himself.

He pivoted on the spot and looked down at the blood, the broken picture frame, the cracked Alexander the Great statue head, and Aldrich’s cane on the floor.

After a minute of blankly staring, he released a long, drawn-out sigh. He walked casually over to the cabinet that once held the Alexander the Great statue head on one of its shelves. He picked up a Greek-looking vase and then launched it across the entry hall.

The sound of it splitting against the wall and then smashing onto the floor sent a wave of pleasure down his spine. A triumphant laugh came out of his chest. The next ornament met an explosive end when he juggled it a few times, then purposefully missed the next catch.

Knowing Aldrich, these items were hundreds of years old, maybe thousands, but that made it all the more pleasurable to destroy them.

He became impatient, so he wedged his fingers behind the cabinet. He managed to topple it. It came down with a thwack of air. There were clanging, thudding, splitting noises and other sounds of destruction.

It had been harder to tip over than he’d expected. He stopped to breathe, and peered down at the mess of the entry hall. All the times he’d been angry around Aldrich and had wanted to kill him or at least break something to vent his anger, but he never could; but now, this was too sweet. The entire manor waited to be defiled.

He took out his penis and urinated on the floor, aiming widely. He added an exultant laugh to the display. The smelly yellow liquid spread out, and a trail of it mingled with the dried pool of blood.

When he was done, he thought about Aldrich’s dead body. He assumed that he must not have been dead for much more than half an hour. That was the impression he got from Juliet and the Crystan boys, seeing as they hadn’t even cleaned up Aldrich’s blood by the time Ryan arrived. That would have been the first thing most people would do, after hiding the body.

He supposed he ought to sort out Aldrich’s body before rigor mortis started to set in. He’d disposed of dead human bodies before; some of them his own doing, but most on Aldrich’s behalf. It was black outside, so he stepped around his puddle of piss and headed for the utility cupboard to grab a torch.

In the cupboard there were some spare roles of cling film. He took one with him. He also went to the bathroom where he stored the clean linen, towels and other laundry. He selected a white king-sized bed sheet, and carried it under his left arm.

As he walked down the hallway, he shouted at the walls, ‘I’m not your fucking housekeeper anymore!’

Aldrich was lazy when it came to housework. Ryan had maintained Grendel Manor by himself. Or mostly maintained it, at least; the back garden was untouched, overgrown field mostly, and Aldrich didn’t care for some rooms of the manor, so he locked them tight and let them dust.

For some reason, Aldrich never let Ryan out the back of the manor. Maybe he would find out that reason now?

Cleaning was what he’d spent most days doing; often while having to listen to Aldrich drone on about life stories. It was odd to walk freely around the house without being aware of Aldrich’s presence. Although Ryan would let himself into the manor, he’d always shout for Aldrich and wait for orders. He’d avoided exploring freely in case he somehow upset his master by doing so. If he’d seen something that he wasn’t supposed to, then Aldrich could have wiped his mind, and no harm would be done. But Aldrich always insisted that he would never use his ability on Ryan… apart from for the one time that they agreed upon.

‘Why don’t you like using it on me?’ Ryan would ask.

And his master’s response was always, ‘You are my friend. Yes. My trusted companion. Yes. You are like me, Ryan; you enjoy it.’

I enjoy it? Enjoy what?
He’d never figured out what Aldrich had meant by that. If Ryan had been so trusted, then why had Aldrich watched over him in most tasks?

With the torch on bright, Ryan Fraser used it to follow the directions Tom had given him. The dark didn’t unsettle him; he hardly felt nervous at all. Even when he heard the occasional rustle, maybe rabbits, mice or rats, it never startled him.

The trees grouped around him as he walked into the woods. The moon was barely visible behind murky night-clouds; it offered minimal lighting, especially in the dark of the woods.

The body was nearby, buried under a pile of leaves. He spotted the shadowy heap against a tree, then the smell that hit him confirmed he’d found it. Mixed with the late afternoon air was the stench of faeces; it was pungent in comparison to the fresh, wintry breeze.

He placed the bed sheet and cling film down, then began to brush the leaves off of the body. At one point, his hand bumped against something metal and cold. He realised what it was and grabbed the haft. He yanked the knife out of Aldrich’s chest. It made a gloopy sound.

Using the torch to check, he recognised the knife as the one that had killed Samantha Crystan. He hadn’t been so honest when he told the Crystan boys earlier that he didn’t know much about their mother’s death. It seemed that Tommy had used the same weapon to end Aldrich’s life as Aldrich had used to kill Tommy’s mother. He sniggered at the coincidence; was it fated to happen that way?

When most the leaves were off, he pulled Dead-Aldrich by the feet, away from the tree. The body made a flatulent noise as he moved it. Even in the dark, he could see the wet patch around the body’s crotch. He looked further up the lifeless form; up to the face he knew and hated well.

Dead-Aldrich’s face looked different. It was swollen and smeared with dried blood, but it also seemed limp and relaxed. Although discerning colour in the dark was difficult, he could see that the lips were pale, and the rest of Aldrich’s features weren’t their usual shade either.

He scooped up a handful of dirt and mud, and then forcefully pressed it into the dead body’s eyes. With clenched teethed, he pushed the clumps of earth deeper; Aldrich’s eyes seemed to sink into his skull. Ryan thought of urinating on the dead body to further defile it, but he’d already used up his supply.

He repeated the process with the dirt, but this time he forced the mud into Aldrich’s mouth and open chest wound. The sense of power overwhelmed him; he could have swum in it, danced in it, rolled in it, bathed in it!

‘Fuck you, Aldrich Grendel.’ he whispered to the body that had muck for eyes. ‘Immortal my ass. Look at you now.’

He searched all of Aldrich’s pockets. He found nothing; all pockets were completely empty. That wasn’t too strange in itself, as Ryan’s master used to always return to his bedroom to collect items. Everything was hidden away there. The odd part was that Aldrich kept the room locked. So where was the key? Ryan tried to remember if he’d ever seen Aldrich lock the door, and if he’d noticed where he placed the key afterwards; he couldn’t recall anything.

‘I need that key, Aldrich. Where is it?’

He wasn’t surprised when Aldrich didn’t reply.

‘I’ll find it. You can’t fool me now.’ he said hoarsely, and patted the corpse.

To the side of the body was a throw. He covered Dead-Aldrich with it, tucking it underneath and around him.

The cling film roll was behind him, so he reached for it and prepared it for use. He lifted Aldrich’s head off the ground. Then he started to wrap the cling film around it as tight as possible.

Once the head was done, he moved onto the neck. Wrapping the shoulders was where it became difficult. He laid the cling film out a few metres along the ground, and rolled the body over it, again and again. For some of the way, he had enough strength to hold Aldrich upright and wrap with the other hand, but it tired him.

Small twigs, leaves, the throw and various mess got wrapped up inside too. He worked his way down to Aldrich’s feet. There was just enough cling film to give it a tight finish. He was left with what looked like a shiny mummy.

Then he laid the king-sized bed sheet flat out on the ground. He dragged and rolled the squidgy plastic mummy into the centre of the sheet. Next he wrapped the body up, turning it over and over again into the white fabric. Above Aldrich’s head, he tied a secure knot, and below his feet, he did the same.

Now it looked like a giant white (slightly stained) Christmas-cracker.

But, it would reduce the smell. And, he could drag the body using the sheet. That was easier than lugging him along by the feet, he hoped.

He coiled the end of the sheet, situated below Aldrich’s feet, around the wrist of his right arm, and began to pull the giant Christmas-cracker through the underbrush, towards the manor.

It took tremendous effort and frequent breaks, but eventually he reached the finish line and tugged the body through the back door. He heard a bony thump as Dead-Aldrich’s wrapped head came over the door frame and, with the help of gravity, met the floor.

A few times on the way, he wished he would have taken the body to the cliff edge instead, and pushed it over. It would have been less distance. But it also would have been such a boring way for Aldrich to go; Ryan wished for a more interesting idea to strike him. He wanted to do something that would make his skin crawl with delight.

Ryan had always had difficulties empathising with people; he tried to respond the way he thought he should, or he attempted to emulate their behaviour, but he never felt what others seem to feel. The only times he did experience jolts of real emotion was when he proved himself better than someone else, or when he saw them weak, injured or suffering. A giddy thrill would wriggle through him, and he’d yearn for more.

Another type of utility room, next to the kitchen, held a large chest refrigerator in it. He hauled the body over to it, which smudged mud and grass-juice from the fabric corpse across the kitchen tiles, and then he opened the lid. The refrigerator was almost empty; he’d planned to do the house-shopping later in the week, and also, this chest was only for overflow when Aldrich got carried away with his shopping list.

He took some time to gather his strength, and then began to lift the body into the fridge. The corpse didn’t smell much now, or if it did, it was sealed off by the cling film and the bed sheet; but every now and then, the pong of faeces would escape the wrapping and get caught in Ryan’s noise. Once the body was inside, he set the temperature to 2°C. If he’d frozen the corpse, it would be too stiff and difficult to move for when he decided what to do with it; but at this temperature, the decomposition would be slowed at least.

Now the body was out the way, he headed for Aldrich’s bedroom.

Forceful kicks and shoulder barges backed with all of Ryan’s might weren’t enough to break open the sturdy door. It simply rattled, unimpressed.

‘I’m not searching the entire manor for a key!’ he shouted. ‘I know you, Aldrich; you must have kept it close by.’ Something twigged in his mind all of a sudden, ‘Ah!’

He marched for the indoor balcony and then hurried down the steps. With his return to the entry hall, he realised that his previous actions here had been a bit on the impulsive side. That wasn’t important right now; his eager hands rushed towards Aldrich’s cane.

The brass oval head unscrewed as he twisted it. When it came away from the cane it revealed itself as a key. A small chamber had been hollowed out in the wood of the cane to accommodate for the hidden piece of metal.

He snapped the wood of his master’s precious cane over the banister of the staircase. Jolt of pleasure. Then he jogged back upstairs with the key in hand.

The door unlocked. Every time before that he’d been in this room, Aldrich had watched over him; he was only permitted to enter when the bedding needed a change, or to do other general cleaning.

He knew exactly where to look first. Aldrich had always stood with his hand resting on a small trinket box on every occasion that he let Ryan into the bedroom. He’d said to Ryan, ‘When I release you. Release you, one day. Soon. I promise. You can have what’s in this box. One day.’

Actually, he’d said those words to Ryan in various different ways a number of times.

‘One day, Aldrich.’ Ryan muttered. ‘It was always one day.’

Inside the trinket-box there was a tiny string bag, a few pieces of paper, a simple key, and an old ring. He picked up the first bit of paper; it was faded and dark, and on it was some handwritten text in a language he didn’t know. From the way the text was signed off, it looked like a love-letter.

The ring had an intricate weave pattern, gold, and in the diamond-shaped gaps of the criss-cross there were clear gemstones. A wedding ring? He pocketed it.

Then he eased the small string bag open and shook out its contents into his palm: teeth, human teeth. He guessed they must have belonged to the person that wrote the love-letter, unless Aldrich had written the note?

Who cares?

His master’s ex-love was probably long, long dead.

Now here was what he’d been searching for: a plain piece of paper with ‘Ryan’s password & security details’ scribbled on it lazily. With these details and the key he could finally access the safety deposit box. When Aldrich first ‘employed’ Ryan, they made a deal. It was the one and only time that his master had used his mind ability on him. Aldrich gave him two hundred and fifty thousand pounds, and had him go to the bank and put it in a safety deposit box, then he wiped his memory of the required security details and took the key.

The arrangement was that when Aldrich released him from service, he could have the money. On top of that, he was paid a basic monthly wage to survive and to avoid suspicion (and keep Ryan in his place). That wage would continue to be paid until the funds ran dry; even with his master dead. Aldrich had bank accounts set up in various different names, and who knows how much money? Sometimes Ryan thought he knew Aldrich well, then other times he wondered if Aldrich had other employees, maybe businesses set up all around the world? He rarely saw his master do anything while he was around; he seemed to be a hermit, mourning the past, and obsessed with an imaginary god.

‘Pfftt, Moloch.’ he shook his head, snivelled.

Being immortal and having the ability to control minds made Aldrich an expert when it came to handling money, money laundering, and the likes.

As far as Kim knew, Ryan was a support worker for vulnerable adults; the strange shift patterns, and the fact that he was often seen out and about shopping for Aldrich made it believable. It took constant and clever lies though. She didn’t like that he was secretive about his bank accounts at first, but eventually she let it slide. As long as the bills got paid.

And as far as the English government could tell, Ryan was employed as a personal carer for Tomas Dolores Otero. He didn’t know and didn’t care if Tomas was ever a real person or just one of Aldrich’s aliases. As long as there were no hiccups with his future pay.

‘Two huuuuuundred aaand fiiiifty thouuusaand POUNDS! Ahaha!’ he shouted to the extent his hoarse voice let him. ‘Finally, finally!’

Then he stopped.

He wasn’t sure if he actually felt excited or not. Most people liked money, correct? This was the reaction he was meant to have, he supposed.

Ten years ago he would have felt differently.

‘Hmmppphh.’ He grumbled.

Kim would be ecstatic. He just needed to come up with a lie about how he got the money. He’d figure something out; lying was second-nature by now.

He rolled up the key for the safety deposit box into the paper with the password and security details on, then firmly pushed them into his pocket.

Only the teeth, the string-bag and the apparent love-letter were left in the trinket box.

He returned to the entry hall, mopped up the urine and blood, and scrubbed the stains that wouldn’t lift, but he left the destroyed ornaments and the broken cabinet where they were.

After treating himself to a shower, he sprayed down his clothes to freshen them up, and then slipped them back on. He couldn’t go home to Kim smelling of blood, excrement and dirt.

He’d parked his silver Peugeot 206 on the gravel out the front. He headed home to Etherby, to Kim.

*

‘We haven’t had sex like that in a long time.’ Kim said, panting.

Ryan forced a smile as they collapsed beside each other on the bed. He didn’t offer her an explanation. Instead, he stretched over to grab the trousers he’d flung off and onto the floor. He reached inside one of the pockets to pull a certain something out.

‘Kim, I love you. Will you marry me?’ he emulated the way people proposed in films: tone, significant pauses, stresses on the right words. The ring he presented was the antique he’d taken from Aldrich’s trinket box. In proposing, he’d expected to feel something, but he didn’t.

The expression on Kim’s face… he recognised it to be elation, delight? He analysed it as a good reaction; had she waited long for this moment? Her eyes had swirly tears in them.

‘Yes, Ryan. This is the best night of my life. Eeeeeeeee!’ she released one of her excited squeals. He liked her squeals; he only wished that more things thrilled him so much.

She stared quizzically but admiringly at the ring, ‘It’s not my usual style,’ she laughed appreciatively, ‘but it is beautiful. It looks really old… and expensive.’ she added, sounding more a question than a comment.

‘Family heirloom.’ he muttered the first lie that slinked into his head.

*

On Tuesday at Grendel Manor, he revelled in some more destruction. This was fun; at least he thought so, wasn’t sure if he felt so. He did it with gloves on this time, after wiping down the items he’d destroyed before.

The manor was covered with his fingerprints and DNA, and he would get around to that, but not now though.

Clay tablets, intricate jewellery, paintings, statues of beasts, story-depicting vases, plates, bowls, worn weapons: All vandalised to varying degrees.

No one would come to Grendel Manor; nobody ever did. Aldrich had always sent people away, memories erased. Now visitors were rare. Stories of the manor circulated, but the way it was hidden in its own valley allowed it to fall back into the easily neglected shadows of the public’s eye and mind.

When he was bored of devastating priceless artefacts, he went to one of the bathrooms, left the door open and stood facing the toilet. He masturbated with the glove on; now this was a pleasure he understood. It tickled him that he could do it with the door wide open. Aldrich had no say over his actions anymore.

Afterwards, he scrubbed the bathroom down.

The night before, he told Kim not to share with anyone that they were engaged yet. He still needed to come up with an adequate lie for his coming into money. Kim was desperate to tell Juliet, but he made it clear that he wanted to wait until he had some ‘time off work’ before they started spreading the news.

He strolled around the wrecked manor and soaked up a twisted sense of power. Then he headed home.

*

The next day, he thoroughly cleaned Grendel Manor.

He took his time; he wiped every handle, all surfaces, and each door and window until he was confident that no fingerprints remained. Hands were gloved again, his body covered; he even wore a simple dust mask over his mouth, and tightened his hood up to keep his hair and flaky scalp to himself.

The body was in the fridge still, hopefully not too rotted and malodorous; Ryan hadn’t yet come up with the perfect, skin-tingling way of disposing of the corpse.

He decided to go home and sleep on it.

*

Thursday came. The moment he awoke, an idea struck him.

The first few hours of the morning flittered away; he allowed them to as he fooled about with Kim until she reluctantly plodded off to work. She did part-time hours at Ethereal Cuts; a hair salon, and Ryan assumed the use of the word ‘ethereal’ in the name was some kind of weak play on the name of the town: Etherby. Or maybe it was a reference to the witchy past of Lansin Island. Or both.

Sometimes he overanalysed; most times he didn’t even care for the matter he was analysing.

He took a few cans of petrol from the garage. Kim wouldn’t notice; she didn’t drive. He discreetly placed the cans into the boot of his Peugeot 206 and then drove to Grendel Manor.

A filing cabinet in a capacious office room of the manor held records on many different families and people. Ryan had compiled the data over the years, but right now he looked for a specific address belonging to one person.

After keeping tabs on the Crystan family for so long, he knew that the most appropriate one of the boys to address the letter to would be Nicolas Jack Crystan; he lived alone and would hopefully open the envelope with no one around.

He began to write in one messy block of scribbles:

Nicolas,

I’m writing this so that you might understand what I’m about to do, and if I somehow get arrested, then I want someone else to have this knowledge too. I’ve worked for Aldrich for over ten years and I had to put up with him talking about the past. All the time. Most the time I ignored him because he didn’t make sense or because I had no idea what he was going on about. There was one story I couldn’t ignore though. He told me that in the 16th century he was living in Germany at the time. While he was there, some imaginary god he believed in ordered him to come to Lansin Island. I don’t believe this god exists… Moluk? (Don’t know how it’s spelt). Anyway, his orders were to come to Lansin Island and use his mind-ability to kill a group of witches that lived on the island. I always thought that the history never added up. How did the people that lived here become so paranoid that they built 30 stone platforms and burnt almost 150 people, when there were only about 800 people living on the island anyway? No trials? And why stone platforms? Why go through so much effort? It was Aldrich who put it in their minds. Maybe Aldrich was behind other witch-burnings across Europe too? He used to take me to The Burning Grounds at night sometimes. He used his trick to get access to the grounds, got what he needed from staff that work there. He had a key for a staff entrance and he knew the security codes for the cameras. He liked to go there and reminisce. To remember what it was like to watch thirty people at a time burn alive. You can take this letter in any way you like, but it’s what Aldrich told me, and I think he did kill all those people. I’ve cleared up all the evidence of you ever being at the manor. This letter should be the only evidence of your connection to Aldrich that is left, so I suggest you dispose of it. I have nothing more to say, apart from thank you again to you and your brothers for freeing me from him.

Ryan.

He slipped the letter inside an envelope with Nicolas Crystan’s address on the front, then fixed a stamp in the corner. He walked out to his car to put the letter in the glove compartment; he also placed a key in there.

Over the next long hours, he scoured the manor for as many flammable substances as he could find. There were extra cans of petrol stored in the manor for him, which was handy. Halfway through gathering, he took a quick side mission and grabbed a large bed-sheet, then placed it on top of the fridge that held Aldrich’s corpse. Then he returned to the previous task.

Once he had an adequate collection of substances, he waited. And waited. When it was ten o’clock in the evening, he began.

He started with the bathrooms and sprayed deodorant over every surface and into every crevice and nook that he could. When the deodorant was depleted, he used shaving cream, flour, alcohol, moving onto the other rooms of the manor.

Some rooms he’d never been in before; Aldrich never unlocked them for him, so he didn’t care if those rooms survived or not. He poured petrol into the toilets and didn’t flush. He was clever in his approach and did all the rooms in an order so that he wouldn’t have to back-track and walk over petrol or flour on the floor.

In the entry hall, he made certain that the area he urinated on was soaked in flammable substances.

He emptied the contents of the filing cabinet onto the office floor and doused them in furniture polish.

Done, apart from for the side-room of the kitchen; where the fridge and the corpse were. When he opened the refrigerator, the smell crept up to his nose steadily. It wasn’t as dire as he’d expected, though the wrapped body had new stains: sticky brown, red and purple, gloopy black, yellow. He spread the bed-sheet that he picked out earlier onto the floor and then toppled the chest refrigerator over with enough force to vomit the body out. The corpse went splat on top of the new bed-sheet, with a drift of stench.

He spritzed Dead-Aldrich with air freshener. He then repeated the Christmas-cracker process and wrapped and tied the body up tightly, ready for manoeuvring.

He dragged the giant white Christmas-cracker out the back door, around the side of the manor and to his car. As he hauled it along, his body ached; the same muscles he’d exerted on Monday evening began to protest. He forced the corpse into the boot of the car with a lot of difficulty; obviously the vehicle was not designed with transporting a dead body in mind.

In his car, he’d already placed some thick rope and chunks of fire-wood.

The sky was clear outside and the night was dark with only hazy light from the full moon. His clothes stank; he stripped naked, threw his old attire through an open window into the manor, and then changed into some fresh garments he’d brought with him.

He circled the manor, lighting matches and dropping them through key points: the front door, the back, and as many windows as possible. Each time the air thwumped, biting back at him with hungry flames. The fire spread faster than he ever imagined it would. A shiver of childish excitement ran over him; a sick pleasure, a thrill, like the boyish gratification of tearing off the legs of a spider, one by one.

He ran to the car, a safe distance from the thunderous, crackling manor. Small explosions went off inside, like little pocket-blasts. They were loud, but not deafening, though the noise was definitely growing in intensity.

It began to smell of heavy smoke. The nearest house was over two miles away, and the way the hills created a valley-like effect would hopefully stop anyone from noticing the conflagration for a while. The explosions echoed, but if they were heard then they would probably be passed off as fireworks.

Grendel Manor was a bulky stone golem with blazing window-eyes of fire. It spewed black, toxic breath from its gaping mouths while its rocky organs creaked and moaned under the pressure of fiery heart-burn.

Ryan was anxious for his next move, so he scrambled into his car and drove up the steep private road. In his rear-view mirror the orange glow of the manor was blinding, but it shrunk as he zoomed away.

By the time he reached his destination it was almost midnight. He parked in an unconventional spot, away from cameras, and made his way to the staff entrance. In case he was spotted in any form, he wore the dust mask and had tightened the string of his hood to cover his face. He used Aldrich’s key to gain access. Inside, he entered the security passwords and shut down the cameras.

The only ways in were through the staff back-entrances or the main gate that the tourists entered through, which was locked shut at night, and was too high to scale.

He made trips back and forth; he brought the rope, petrol cans, a lot of wood, and on his final trip he lugged Aldrich’s corpse out into The Burning Grounds.

The milky light of the moon licked the edges of each stone platform. In a playful sense it looked like a giant sheet of bubble-wrap with needles poked into each air-ball; the circular platforms were the blisters, only flat-topped, and the wooden stakes were the needles. The sight of all thirty death-discs at night was enough to make the average human cringe. Ryan wasn’t fazed.

He yanked the body up onto the nearest platform and propped it against the pole. A foul pong occasionally wheezed out, but he ploughed on. He secured Dead-Aldrich with the rope and then piled the blocks of wood all around him.

He soaked everything in petrol.

One of the pieces of wood was more like a long branch. He took it, dipped the end in petrol and set it alight. He took a few steps back and then threw it underarm-style onto the platform.

An implosion sound brought on the flames, and a wall of heat slapped outwards. He looked at the vertical orange victim and tried to imagine thirty of them all at once.

‘I wish you were alive to feel this, Aldrich.’ his voice muffled by the dust mask.

Sat in the calm night sky, the full moon watched the spectacle indifferently: the burning body, the fierce fire, like a red-orange dragon that danced too fast to track.

In Ryan’s eyes the reflection of the roaring blaze flickered, and above that, the icy moon made an appearance.

Crooked teeth smiled under the dust mask; his skin wriggled with delight.

Table of Contents

A Death Displaced

Copyright

Acknowledgements

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25