Date: 2013-10-03 04:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Fantasy; Paranormal; Mystery; Urban Fantasy
Description: Glimpses of another world. Visions of a bloodbath ... In the aftermath of a shocking murder, Nick and Juliet handle their lives in almost opposite ways. Everything is finally on the up for Nick—full-time work, stronger relationships—and he even has a girlfriend. So when a romantic weekend away turns into a bloodbath, he's left disillusioned ... and with the fear that someone is targeting him. For Juliet, the things she has witnessed still haunt her, and the deceit she has suffered feels fresh. Struggling to keep her life in order, she attempts to regain confidence by learning to control her ab

A BODY DISPLACED

LANSIN ISLAND SERIES

ANDREW BUTCHER

Copyright

A Body Displaced, Second Edition 2014

Copyright © by Andrew Butcher 2014
http://www.andrew-butcher.com

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.

OTHER WORKS

LANSIN ISLAND SERIES

A Death Displaced

A Body Displaced

A Spirit Displaced (TBR)

LANSIN ISLAND SHORT STORIES

A Note Below

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ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

The support I’ve received since A Death Displaced was released has been amazing, and I’m so grateful for it.

Thanks go again to my family, partner, and friends. A massive thank you to Mike Bowles, author of ‘The Melville and Slade Series,’ for all the encouragement, and for providing feedback on this novel.

And thank you so much to everyone who’s read the Lansin Island Series so far. The following people have been especially supportive: Susan Slomski, Brenda LeCrone Seaberg, James Gibbons, Amy Wood Kelly, Tonia Dellinger, Georgeanna Brenneman, Laura Shipp, Jayn Wilde, Lisa Wood, Karyn Campbell, Rachel Hall, Hayley, Rachel Wood, Helen Peter, and Patricia Carroll.

CHAPTER ONE

HE DREAMT OF blood again.

The red coating his body was cold and slick. It trickled down his face and seeped between his lips, the flavour sharp in his mouth. His eyes could not open for fear of the blood entering, but he knew he was covered as if he’d bathed in the dark fluid.

Shout, his mind urged, Shout! Their name was important; they must be found. But so much blood. No, don’t think that, SHOUT! You have to. If he was somewhere that he’d recognise, he didn’t know where. The dream hadn’t granted such knowledge.

In this unfamiliar place, the blood rose: a tub filling, disgustingly cold and stealing his height. He tiptoed. He jumped. But the red gore gained on him. It reached his nipples, then bubbled over his shoulders and neck and chin and face and hair, until he was gone.

All thoughts fled except for: Air, air, I can’t breathe. His arms struggled in a direction he desperately hoped was up. His legs kicked. No use. Then he drank what oppressed him, inhaling his killer. Gulping it down. It was a pain like no other, and with it came blurred images, dreams he grasped would be pleasant if only they made sense.

I’m drowning, I’m drowning. So much blood. His muscles went limp, no longer able to fight. He floated and floated, sank and sank. But death didn’t come so easily. Before he woke, something gripped his neck. It dug in and squeezed, tightening.

Then ripping.

Nicolas Crystan shot bolt upright in bed. He was covered in sweat. The worst nightmares always soaked the sheets. He panted so harshly it made him cough.

‘Another nightmare, Nick?’ she asked in the dark.

‘Huh?’ He reached for the bedside lamp. A flick of the switch and the room was splotched with orange light.

His girlfriend turned to face him. ‘You shouted.’

‘Did I?’ He shook his head, but the gory images remained. ‘Oh, I don’t know. I … I don’t even remember the dream,’ he lied.

His girlfriend’s hair was dyed dark brown and tinted red. The dim artificial light didn’t betray the faux colour, but left it looking healthy and shiny instead. Her face was angular and portrayed a naturally confident, expressive look.

‘Come on … that’s what you said last time. And the time before. Are you hiding something from me, Nicky?’ She said the nickname playfully.

As retaliation, he blew a quick burst of air in her face. ‘You know I hate to be called that.’ But even so, her flirtation helped him focus on her instead of the recurring nightmare.

She grimaced and acted like she was choking. ‘Ewwwh, you have bed-breath!’

‘Bed-breath?’ he laughed out. ‘Is that even a thing?’

‘It is now.’ She continued to pull faces as if his breath were killing her. Her little performance reminded him that she’d always been good at drama; she’d lied to his face many times in the past. Don’t think about that, his mind advised … This was a fresh start, and his girlfriend was a changed person now.

‘Kerra,’ he said, ‘I don’t remember the dream.’

Kerra Evans played serious then. ‘We’ve been officially dating for almost three months now. I just hope you feel like you can talk to me about things.’ She finished with an empathetic smile.

Nick looked into her eyes, acknowledging her jokey use of the word ‘officially.’ She teased him with it like she did with the nickname. On his twenty-fifth birthday he’d asked her if she would ‘go out’ with him. Kerra’s response was, ‘I thought we were already going out.’ It was awkward. They’d spent a lot of time together throughout the two months before then. In Nick’s head there was a distinct difference between seeing her and dating her. But on that day, it became official for both of them.

‘I do feel like I can talk to you. And I’d tell you if it was anything important. But these nightmares … They’re nothing to worry about.’

A knock came from the bedroom door, followed by a voice. ‘Are you alright in there, Nick?’

‘I’m fine, Tom,’ he answered his brother loud enough for the sound to travel through the door. Then he sighed, hushed enough for it to stay in the room. Kerra giggled.

Tom had moved in shortly after Christmas when he’d revealed to his dad, John, and his twin brother, Tommy, that he was gay. Nick had already known; he was the first family member Tom admitted his sexuality to. At the time, Nick made an offer: If their dad or Tommy had any problems, then Tom could move in with him for a while, as a kind of safety net. He now regretted that offer. Their dad had taken the news fairly well, although he acted awkward for a while, but it was Tommy who found issue with it, ignoring his twin from that day forward.

‘Okay. Goodnight then,’ Tom yelled back. The door shut, and low mumbling reached Nick’s ears. He recognised the tone: The dopey, troll-like voice belonged to Michael Welding, one of his colleagues at Creaky Crystals, and also Tom’s boyfriend.

‘Sounds like your brother snuck his lover over again,’ Kerra whispered, amused.

‘It seems so.’ Nick moved a hand over the sheets and felt the sweat. ‘I might go sit in the kitchen for a while until I feel tired again.’

‘Why don’t we cuddle up and try to go back to sleep?’ Kerra suggested. In a sultry voice, she added, ‘Or I’m sure I can find a way to wear you out.’ She grabbed him under the covers.

Any other time, he would have been excited, but he was too preoccupied now. ‘That would probably make me more awake,’ he offered as pretext. ‘I’ll come back to bed in a while. I just need to think.’

‘Hmmm, okay,’ she said, not quite moodily, not quite happily.

The house was a comfortable temperature; Nick didn’t need to wear slippers or shuffle his feet for warmth like last year. Since his manager had offered him a full-time position at Creaky Crystals and Tom was paying board, he could finally afford a few basic luxuries. Heating being a favourite.

He boiled the kettle, then made a big mug of hot chocolate before sitting down at the round kitchen table. He was worried. The dream of blood had visited him six times now. The only person he had told about the nightmares was his best friend, Fin. But he couldn’t call Fin at this time of night.

Sipping at the sweet beverage, he mulled over everything he had to hide from Kerra: that he had visions of the future; that he’d met a man who could control people with his mind; that he was an accessory to that man’s murder; that he’d met a gorgeous woman who could see ghosts; that his dreams sometimes portrayed the future in muddled and metaphorical imagery; and maybe worst of all, that Kerra didn’t know the blood nightmare first came to him on his birthday, on the day he asked her out.

Maybe just coincidence? Whether or not it was, surely dreaming of blood was not a good omen. Something sinister was on its way.

Although he didn’t want to die, it reassured him to know the dream was of him drowning in blood, and not a premonition of someone else’s death. He couldn’t bear that again.

Ordinary people had nightmares, and for many reasons, such as stress or fear, so maybe Nick’s were nothing to worry about. After all, his life was on an up-and-up spiral. Things with Kerra were going strong. His full-time work offered security. His bungalow was properly furnished, all cracks and holes gone from the walls. No bouts of depression had struck him recently. And his relationship with his dad was ten times better than it had been for the past nine years.

It’s only a dream, he reassured himself.

When his mug was empty, he took a moment to close his eyes and relax.

Tom and Michael were quiet, probably deep in slumber, and Kerra didn’t make a sound either. Nick observed the silence, smiled, and savoured it; he wasn’t used to his home being so full. The living room was now his brother’s sleeping place. The snug was still mainly Nick’s for use, but that left only his bedroom, the kitchen, and the bathroom. That was all. The bungalow was too small for four. Kerra hadn’t moved in, but she slept over regularly, and occasionally Nick would stay the night at her family’s house, getting to know the Evanses all over again.

Finally ready to let the dream go, he opened his eyes and quietly returned to his bedroom.

The sheets were only damp now, but he squeezed over to Kerra’s side anyway. He cuddled her naked body and forgot the nightmare. He let go of the bad times. Instead, he visualised the joyful moments he’d shared with Kerra in their past relationship, and now in this one. He grinned, happier than he’d been in years.

Before he fell asleep, he had one last thought.

I’ll be fine.

In the morning, Nick and Kerra were up and about first. Kerra dressed for work, although she had no compulsory uniform. She wore bright and quirkily contrasting colours, and with the red tint of her hair, she looked quite the rainbow. Shakedown was her workplace, a milkshake shop that blended popular confectionery brands into their shakes. And sold them for outrageous prices.

‘Text me,’ she said before leaving, and kissed Nick goodbye.

‘Will do.’ As the door swung shut, Nick wondered why they didn’t part with I love yous yet. Is she waiting for me to say it first?

When they’d dated before, they’d said those words often. But they were younger then. Maybe this time they were both afraid to reach that level of commitment; those three words shouldn’t be said lightly, like they probably had been before. All those I love yous hadn’t stopped them from mistreating each other.

He plodded lazily up the hall and towards the kitchen, but was intercepted by Michael blundering out of the living room. Michael was nude except for tight orange boxers. ‘Oh, sorry, Nick,’ he mumbled. ‘Just going to the loo.’ He didn’t seem embarrassed, only apologetic for getting in Nick’s path. His body was well toned, his hair mousey, and his eyes pale blue. One of those ‘pretty boys.’

‘No, it’s fine.’ Nick waited for Tom’s boyfriend to pass, but Michael stopped to talk.

‘You got work today?’ he asked.

‘Yeah. I’m working a ten-six.’

‘Cool. I’ve got college.’ Michael shrugged, his muscles hard to ignore. Nick found himself thinking, Why do muscly men feel the need to show off? But then he remembered this was Michael, and Michael was too simple to think like that; he most likely didn’t realise his barely clothed body could make the people around him feel awkward.

‘Will you see Tommy at college?’ asked Nick. Michael and Tommy were on the same Diploma in Construction course at Amiton College.

Michael shifted uncomfortably. ‘Probably. But he doesn’t talk to me at all now.’

‘Really?’

‘Yeah. I suppose it’s lucky Tom dropped out before telling you lot about us. Would have been well awkward if Tommy ignored me and his brother at college. Other people on the course already don’t know what to do when me and Tommy are about. It’s like they think they’ve gotta pick sides or something.’ His face grew sullen, and then he shrugged again.

‘Tommy will come around,’ Nick assured him. ‘He can’t ignore you both forever. Anyway, I’ll go over to Dad’s soon to talk to him. Maybe he’ll listen to me.’

‘Maybe.’ In a quieter voice, Michael said, ‘It’s getting to Tom more than me. Must suck that his own twin’s treating him like he don’t exist. Tom says they were close when they were younger.’

Nick laughed, almost wistfully. ‘Inseparable. I think he used to idolise Tommy.’ He tried to keep his voice low so Tom wouldn’t overhear.

A dopey half grunt, half laugh escaped Michael. If Nick had to sum up Michael in as few words as possible, it would be: face of angel, voice of troll. ‘Definitely doesn’t now, though,’ he said indolently. ‘Oh, yeah, Nick. This guy came into work the other day to see you. Erm, really dark hair, and he was pale, and ’bout same height as me.’

‘Oh.’ Nick couldn’t think of who it might be. ‘What did he want?’

‘Dunno. I got the impression he didn’t know you well. He only asked for you by your first name, and when I asked what he wanted, he didn’t say much, so I said, Is it Nick Crystan you’re looking for? and then he was like, Yeah, that’s him, but don’t worry, I’ll find him on Facebook or something. I said, Okay, and then he asked how your full name was spelt ’cause he couldn’t remember. So I told him. Then he walked off.’

Nick frowned. Anyone asking after him probably wasn’t a good thing, considering the ongoing investigation into Aldrich Grendel’s murder. ‘Strange. I don’t know who it could be … Maybe someone from school. But thanks for letting me know.’

Michael shrugged, then finally strolled off and entered the bathroom. Nick went to the kitchen and made a hot chocolate to ease into the day. After a while, Michael was off to college, bellowing goodbye on his way out.

Nick sat, thinking. Who came into Creaky Crystals looking for him?

After so many months, and the police having no strong leads on the case, Nick had begun to relax about Aldrich’s murder. Ryan Fraser had done what he’d agreed to. But Nick always came back to one annoying thought, a question he suspected he knew the answer to: Why did Ryan have to burn Aldrich at The Burning Grounds of all places? Surely there were other ways to get rid of the corpse. Then again, he couldn’t be one hundred percent sure it was Aldrich’s body that had gone up in flames; the remains were so charred they couldn’t be identified. The authorities had only figured it out when Grendel Manor, Aldrich’s secluded home in a private valley, was found burnt to the ground a couple of weeks later.

Nick suspected Ryan had chosen The Burning Grounds out of twisted humour, because of Aldrich’s involvement in its history. The tourist site was a weathered courtyard of thirty stone platforms, where, in the sixteenth century, one hundred and forty-three islanders accused of witchcraft were burnt alive. The timing led most historians to believe it was a case of mass hysteria, caused by King Henry VIII declaring the Witchcraft Act. But Nick had received a letter from Ryan suggesting otherwise …

A door handle creaked and startled Nick out of his pensive state. Tom came out of the living room, looking tired. He wore a baggy black hoody and skinny grey jeans, but no socks. Looking top-heavy in his clothes, he rubbed his eyes, and Nick wondered if he would tumble over.

When Tom reached the kitchen, Nick said, ‘Morning, Tom,’ then continued tentatively with, ‘I don’t want to make a big deal out of it, but could you give me a heads-up next time you invite Michael over, please?’

Tom’s face didn’t move. He avoided eye contact. ‘Errm, why? I pay for my room, don’t I?’

‘Well, not exactly. Seeing as you don’t have a job. Dad gives you the money.’

‘It’s still money I could spend on something else …’ His arms were folded and he still averted his brown eyes. ‘Doesn’t that mean I can invite people over?’

‘It’s not about that. I’d just like some warning so I know what I’m coming home to … or waking up to,’ he reasoned, thinking of Michael strolling about in nothing but boxers.

Tom looked at Nick’s face for just a moment, then turned away. ‘Would you be making such a fuss if it was a woman I invited over?’ There was a little bite to his voice.

‘Are you being serious, Tom?’ Nick looked at his brother incredulously. This kind of behaviour wasn’t like Tom at all; he was usually so laidback and reasonable. ‘You know I don’t have a problem with your sexuality.’

No response. Tom only stood, closed off.

‘Tom?’

Tom mumbled weakly, ‘It doesn’t matter. I’ll let you know next time.’ He disappeared back into the living room.

Guilt. I’m too sensitive. Even though Nick had been entirely reasonable, or so he believed, Tom’s reaction had left him heavy with shame. Of course, he realised Tom didn’t truly think him homophobic; he was just naturally upset about his twin brother disowning him. This disagreement was only a result of misplaced anger.

I’m really going to have to talk to Tommy soon.

Nick sighed, then got ready for work.

At Creaky Crystals, Alice Bicker babbled away. ‘The thing is, though, it must have been something dodgy … because why would they burn the body? And the manor? Oh yeah, and in what was left of that place, they found some old artefacts, didn’t they? And even human teeth! Like, what’s that all about? I’m not gonna lie, but it seems like some kind of professional hit to me, like it was government or mafia or something.’ The store wasn’t busy, but Nick hoped no other customers had overheard the conversation. ‘Between you and me, I personally don’t think we’ll ever find out.’ She pulled a smug face like she’d made a profound statement, then stood waiting for Nick’s response.

Alice was the local blabbermouth. She thrived on gossip, and although most people had moved past the subject of Aldrich’s death, Alice could revive any topic at any moment and make it sound fresh. She had a pretty face, pouty lips, always dressed well, and was of average stature and build, although, as she often pointed out, she ‘suffered’ with fluctuating baby fat.

‘Yeah, we probably won’t ever find out.’ Nick looked at the till screen and added, ‘That’s eighteen ninety-nine, please.’ If she says one more irritating phrase, I’m going to have a fit.

‘Thanks, hun, here you go.’ She handed the cash over. ‘You know I love this shop. But I really should stop spending, and at this moment in time, I just ain’t got the money.’ She guffawed. ‘You gotta laugh, eh?’

‘Yeah, I suppose you do,’ he said politely, with good restraint.

‘Bye, Nick! Bye, Mora! Bye, Janet!’ Alice shouted. ‘Oh, Nick, tell Michael I said hi, and that new girl … the kooky one, what’s her name?’

‘Lucy.’

‘Yeah, that’s her. Kooky Lucy!’

‘Will do.’

Alice left. Nick’s manager, Mora, peered over and smiled, suppressing a laugh, and his colleague Janet openly giggled. They both knew what Alice was like.

Outside, it was a clear day, the sky bright enough to hurt Nick’s eyes. He’d always been fond of late spring, and this year had energised him the most. The trees and flowers renewing themselves correlated with his climb out of depression; it felt like a new start. Fresh life, fresh hope. It made him think about all he’d been through, and how experiences other people might have considered traumatic had actually helped him move on and heal …

Six months ago, he discovered the truth of his mother’s disappearance. Samantha Crystan had been missing for almost nine years when Nick had a vision of a stranger, Juliet Maystone, falling to her death. Nick saved her life, but not without consequences: Her soul moved on to the Otherworld but her body remained alive on this side, leaving her with the ability to see ghosts from the realm that lay in between.

With this new ability, Juliet was contacted by the spirit of Samantha, who wanted Nick to visit Grendel Manor. Nick, his brothers, and Juliet all ended up there, where Aldrich admitted to murdering Samantha Crystan. The revelation brought Nick close to killing the man. He wanted to—really wanted to—but he couldn’t. Then, while Juliet and Nick were out of sight, Tommy did murder Aldrich, complicating everything.

Inside the manor, they all tried to find a way to resolve the mess, which was when Aldrich’s subjugated housekeeper, Ryan Fraser, suddenly entered and caught them unprepared. He turned out to be the solution, though: Grateful to no longer be enslaved to Aldrich, he agreed to dispose of the body and destroy the evidence.

And now here Nick was, half a year down the line, with his life getting better and better. The truth was all he had needed.

‘Hey, Nick.’ Janet sauntered over. ‘How are things with Kerra?’

‘Going really well.’

Janet smiled wide, her big gums and teeth on show. ‘I’m so happy! I told you she was perfect for you.’

‘I know, I know,’ he said protractedly. Janet had been the one to set him back up with Kerra, claiming Kerra had changed and wanted to see him again. ‘She is perfect for me,’ he added, though a part of him thought it too early to make such a statement.

‘Are you still going on your romantic weekend away?’ She tilted her head, making her smoky brown hair dangle to one side. She was in her thirties, married, had three kids, and always seemed more interested in other people’s love lives than her own. She was also a Wiccan.

‘Yeah, we are.’

She widened her eyes. ‘Well … you two behave!’ She jabbed him in the arm playfully. ‘I’ll send some positive energy your way.’ With a wink, she returned to work.

When Nick’s shift was over, he met up with Kerra. The weather was mild and surprisingly brilliant this April evening. They took advantage of it and walked around Wood Park, holding hands. In their past relationship, Kerra never would have enjoyed something so simple, but she really had mellowed; she was no longer the impetuous girl Nick had furiously argued with.

The day ended like most had the past few months: Nick fell asleep cuddled up to his girlfriend’s warm body, gently smiling. But in the night, the blood dream came again.

It was becoming more frequent.

Dark was on its way. As the hour approached eight o’clock, Nick drove his black Vauxhall Corsa towards West Edge Country House. The large Victorian hotel featured white window frames, climbing plants, and peaks along the roof. From a glance, rural scenery circled the country house, making it hard to tell what land belonged to the owner. Towards the south and west, the sea was a short distance, and a couple of miles east was the village of Beade.

Many cars were already parked around the property, and more trailed in behind Nick’s. Why is it so busy? He’d paid a fair amount for two nights here, wanting to treat his girlfriend, and hoped he wouldn’t regret it.

Kerra must have sensed his anxiety. As soon as he parked, she grabbed his hand and said, ‘Don’t worry; it looks lovely here. We’ll have a great time.’ She rubbed her thumb reassuringly over his knuckles.

‘Okay. You’re right. Let’s get inside.’

As they neared the entrance, the twang sound of a guitar rose in pitch, dropped, then rose again. Now Nick understood why the drive was full of cars. He gave Kerra a quick kiss before they entered. His luggage was squeezed into a simple duffel bag, and Kerra’s was in an unnecessarily large suitcase. The wheels made a hollow rumble on the wooden floor.

At the small reception desk a man greeted them, though he seemed preoccupied, staring through a doorway into a hall crammed with people. ‘Welcome to West Edge Country House. How can I help?’ His words came out flat and insincere, as he spared the shortest glance for them. ‘If you’re here to see the band, it’s through this way.’ He pointed eagerly in the direction he was so interested in. ‘That’s my son tuning his guitar right now,’ he said proudly, before actually deigning to look at Nick and Kerra. He plainly just wanted to see their reaction.

Nick didn’t fancy stroking the man’s ego and found himself stuck for words. Kerra was more astute. ‘Your son is in the band? Oh, my god! You must be so proud.’ She acted genuinely intrigued: eyes wide, jaw hung, mouth open.

It got his full attention. ‘Yes. He’s played since he was very young,’ he began, gesticulating wildly. ‘My wife and I paid for lessons. He can also play the piano, the violin, and he has a tremendous singing voice. And …’ He came to a pause. ‘And … he’s highly skilled with arts and crafts too! Anything he wishes to try his hand at, my wife and I provide the means.’

‘You sound like amazing parents,’ Kerra said, and smiled. ‘I’d love to sing professionally myself. I have lessons when I can afford them, but that’s not often.’ Nick felt invisible in the conversation and doubted they’d notice his absence if he left. A few people walked past, some coming, some going, but all of them entering or leaving the crowded hall. None using guestrooms.

‘Yes, yes. We do want the best for him,’ the man said, but made no comment on Kerra’s vocal abilities.

Kerra had been honest when she said she wanted to sing professionally; Nick had heard her, and she was good. Maybe one day she’d sustain a living performing on stage. It would certainly be more glamorous than blending milkshakes.

Nick had no idea what his voice sounded like to others. I’m probably tone deaf …

‘Right, let me see.’ The man at the desk began. With his ego apparently satisfied, he sobered and finally assessed his guests. ‘Ah, a boy and a girl … and, look! You’ve got luggage with you. I know what room you’re booked into. One moment. Crystan, isn’t it?’

‘That’s me,’ Nick confirmed.

‘I’m Edward Hayworth. You’ll likely see my wife Janice about if you come join the performance tonight. If not, then you’ll hopefully have the pleasure of meeting her in the morning.’

‘It’s nice to meet you.’

‘And the both of you.’ Mr Hayworth nodded politely. ‘Here are the keys for your room, one each, and please sign this agreement.’ Using both hands, he passed the keys to Nick and Kerra simultaneously, then presented a piece of paper with a fairly standard list of trivial rules. Nick signed.

Mr Hayworth explained how to get to the room, told them what time breakfast would be served tomorrow, and said there was a buffet in the hall where the band was about to perform.

‘Lovely,’ said Kerra. ‘We’ll be sure to check it out once we’re settled in.’

‘Wait, before you go’—Mr Hayworth held up a finger—‘you two look like trendy youths to me, not that I’m the best judge on the matter.’ He laughed to himself. ‘But what I’m trying to say is, would you spread the word about my son’s band? I’ll have to write the name down for you, but it’s pronounced like this: a headache a go go.’ Too excitedly, he added, ‘And that’s with an exclamation mark on the end!’

‘A headache a go go,’ Kerra repeated.

‘Here’s how it’s spelt.’ Mr Hayworth neatly wrote it down and passed the note over. Nick looked at it and read ‘Ahedayke-Ago-Go!’ before putting it in his pocket.

Stupid name.

Then, in a way that made Nick cringe inside, Mr Hayworth said, ‘Remember to Like their Facebook page. That’s right, isn’t it? You have to press the little Like button?’

Nick laughed affably. ‘Yeah. We will do.’ As they headed up to their room, he glanced into the large hall again and caught a gentlemen staring at him.

The guy was sitting at a table, and suspiciously flicked his head in another direction when Nick spotted him. From the little Nick saw, the man was white, and had a long face and gaunt cheeks. He was topped off with a mini afro: ashen curls and a slight middle parting. He brought a hand up to twiddle his hair, awkwardly hiding the side of his face … maybe self-consciously? Nick turned away and headed upstairs, taking Kerra’s suitcase so she wouldn’t have to struggle up the steps with it.

The downstairs of West Edge Country House had looked rather pub-ish—wooden beams occupied the ceiling, odd ornaments cluttered the walls and furniture, and dark, mellow colours were prominent. As they Reaching reached the top step, the décor became brighter, with a cream carpet running down the hallway. It reminded Nick of a bad stall at a car boot sale: Strange trinkets and knickknacks filled every free space.

He was jarred by family pictures of the Hayworths everywhere; it was way too personal, making him feel intrusive. With every step he took, the country house seemed more and more eligible to be featured in an episode of The Hotel Inspector.

At the end of the hall, a stocky bloke sat on an indoor bench. His face was set bored and impatient. He saw Nick and Kerra, then muttered, ‘My bloody wife.’ He pointed at a slightly open door. ‘By the time she’s ready, the band will be finished playing, and I’ll be ready for bed.’

Nick and Kerra laughed, and a woman’s shout came out of the guestroom. ‘Callum! I can hear you talking about me!’

‘Ooo, I’m in trouble …’ said Callum. ‘If she ever gets ready, that is.’

Nick found the door to his room, on the right, about halfway down.

‘Hey, Nicky,’ Kerra said levelly. She put her hands on his sides and faced him. ‘Thank you for this.’

Sheepishly, he replied, ‘That’s okay. I want us to have a nice weekend.’ He spoke softly, conscious of Callum a few metres away.

‘I can’t wait to get you inside, and’—she raised her eyebrows and dropped them quickly—‘take a look at your birthmark.’ She stroked at its location. Below his left armpit, towards the bottom of his ribcage, was a humble light brown mark. Whenever Kerra expressed a desire to see it, Nick knew it was code for something else. He was in for a good time.

‘Sounds good to me,’ he said.

‘Nick, I love you,’ she said, fast and sudden.

Nick stalled, his mind scrambled for a response … and then the moment was gone.

‘Oh.’ Kerra searched his eyes with hers. She was dressed vibrantly as always: an open bright green jacket, a red-and-white polka dot blouse, black skinny jeans, and lime Ugg boots. But even in her cheery outfit, she looked sad and deflated.

Nick chewed his bottom lip awkwardly, his face becoming hot. He flicked a glance at Callum, who must have overheard, and the stocky man attempted to look away casually.

As the awkwardness rose and Nick’s cheeks blossomed red, he thought of something. ‘You go in and unpack your stuff. I’ll be back soon.’ He kissed her, unlocked the door, and waited for his girlfriend to disappear inside with the luggage. She did so with a sad smile.

His hand moved up to his forehead as soon as the door closed. He rubbed his third eye, a leaden sigh escaping him.

‘You alright, lad?’ asked Callum.

‘Yeah. I’m just an idiot.’ He sulked off, scuffing his winklepickers along the carpet. When he reached the stairs, he picked up his pace. He hurried past Mr Hayworth, but gave him a friendly nod. In no time, he found himself in his car and heading towards Beade.

The Vauxhall’s full beams led the way, revealing the rural track with a haunting light that left the sky dark and made the spotlit area appear as though it were all that existed: a forever transforming route, vanishing and emerging simultaneously.

Nova River appeared more suddenly than expected. Nick slowed the vehicle, dipped the headlights, and crossed the bridge to find Beade only yards away. The village had narrow streets and a frustrating one-way system, but Nick huffed his way through and parked outside a Tesco Express store.

While he shopped, his mind nagged at him. Why didn’t you say it back? – I wanted to, I just missed the moment, and then I couldn’t have said it – Yes, you could have! – No, it would have seemed like I was just saying it to make her happy – But do you love her? – Yeah, I think so. At least, I want to love her – Then find the right time to say it!

He bought a bottle of rosé, knowing Kerra would enjoy it. She generally avoided alcohol, caffeinated drinks, milk, and dairy products, in order to maintain a healthy voice, but for when she did treat herself, Nick knew she liked to go all out. Adding their favourite nibbles, noms (as they called them), and other tasty titbits to the basket, he made his way to the counter and paid.

On the drive back, his conscience had assertions to make. When Kerra said ‘I love you’ and Nick had stalled, a flash of Juliet’s face had come before his mind’s eye. You barely knew her. How could you think of her when Kerra was there in front of you, professing her love? – I don’t know; I just did.

It had been half a year since he’d seen Juliet, but he remembered exactly how she had looked. Gorgeous … tall and blonde … sky-blue eyes. Somehow, he still came over warm and buzzing when he thought of her. He hated it. It was wrong to let those sensations linger when he had someone like Kerra, who was trying so hard, who hadn’t abandoned him because of his brother’s actions, like Juliet had. Not that Kerra had been given the chance … but that wasn’t the point.

I’ll get back, we’ll have the perfect evening, and then at the right time, I’ll tell Kerra I love her.

He couldn’t have been gone for more than fifteen minutes when he arrived back at West Edge Country House. Parking up, he spotted the curly-haired guy who’d been spying on him from the hall earlier. He half ran, until he apparently saw Nick’s car and slowed down. His mini afro bounced and wobbled in the dark as he marched away from the hotel. After passing Nick’s vehicle, the man scurried out into the blackness and open countryside.

Nick drew his eyes away and parked. When he looked back, the man was nowhere to be seen.

The hallway was loud when he entered, music filling the long stretch. Mr Hayworth stood half in and half out of the large hall where the band played, glancing back and forth between the reception desk and his son on stage. Noticing Nick, he curtly asked, ‘Decided on tomorrow’s breakfast? Need help? Any problems?’

‘No, thank you.’

‘Grand. Enjoy your evening, won’t you? And remember there’s food through here.’ He turned back to watch the band.

Nick jogged upstairs, the carrier bag of goodies rustling by his side. Callum wasn’t sitting on the bench like he had been before, but came out of his guestroom with his dolled-up wife just as Nick neared the door to his own room.

‘Ta-dah!’ Callum sang comically. ‘She’s finally ready.’ He performed jazz hands to present her. Nick smiled and offered a reserved laugh.

Callum’s wife shook her head. ‘Stop it.’ She shooed her husband.

After a knock on the door received no answer, Nick used his key to open it.

The sight turned him weak. He dropped the carrier bag.

Stunned, he heard a dull thud as the wine bottle met the carpeted floor. Cookies and sweets splayed out of the carrier.

‘Kerra!’ he shouted before he knew it, then kicked into action. ‘Kerra!’ He dashed inside, spun to assess the room. Kerra’s suitcase was open and upside down on the floor, clothes spread out as if they’d been thrown. Spots of red flecked them and the end of the double bed.

A sloppy puddle of blood highlighted the centre of the room. Nick could smell its zingy odour, and he came over dizzy. ‘Kerra!’ he roared so hard it felt like spewing up razorblades.

His throat closed; he coughed violently.

No, shout! I have to find her.

A wardrobe was open, with only an item or two hanging up, but no Kerra to be seen. Kerra’s mobile phone was screen-down in a corner. Nick’s eyes scanned, his mind struggled to keep up, and he darted into the ensuite. Nothing, no one. He turned back.

Callum and his wife appeared at the doorway. As quick as lightning, Callum brought out his mobile phone and dialled. His wife screamed and tried to muffle it with one hand. She squinted, averting her eyes from the scene.

So much blood. Nick forced his eyes shut for a second to regain focus. Cold swept in through the open window. The window … He twisted to find it. On the sill was a magpie, perched proudly. Side to side, its head danced, its beady eyes glinting.

Nick staggered towards the opening in the wall. He reached a hand out for balance.

‘Don’t touch anything,’ said Callum speedily. ‘You’ll mess up the evidence … You should get out of the room.’ Nick stared indignantly at him, but the man continued, ‘The police will be here soon, lad. They’ll look for her, and an ambulance is on its way.’

Sense was somewhere in Nick’s head. He avoided touching objects as much as possible, and stepped around the spots and smears of gore to look outside. Startled, the magpie flew off. Nick peered down. A trellis laddered the side of the wall, and the ground was a gravelled side alley that connected the back of the hotel to the front.

No Kerra. He pivoted and asked, ‘Did you see her leave the room?’ His breath was short. ‘Did anyone come in?’

‘No, I don’t know. My wife was taking so long that I went back into our room to wait.’ He shook his head dismally.

His wife covered her eyes and mumbled, ‘Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god.’

Think! Nick remembered the curly-haired man who’d run from the front of the hotel and suspiciously slowed down as Nick pulled in.

‘Mate … you need to calm down, and get out of the room,’ said Callum. ‘What if there are footprints that you’re messing up?’

‘No! I have to find her!’ He ran out, shoving past the two at the door, and sprinted up the hallway.

Mr Hayworth appeared at the top of the stairs. ‘Did I hear scream—’ he began, but Nick collided with him and lost balance, tumbling down one flight and smacking the side of his head on a stair post. He rolled over on the landing and strained to see through heavy eyelids.

‘Mr Crystan, are you alright?’

Mr Hayworth? The man’s face was smudgy, blurred.

Something trickled from above Nick’s ear, under his hair and down his face. Not cold—warm. It seeped between his lips with a sharp taste.

Kerra, Kerra … But his thoughts drowned into blackness.

CHAPTER TWO

JULIET’S ARMS SHOT up to block the blow. She dropped them to her side, waited, watched, and repeated. The second time was better, more precise. But would it be enough? She hit the replay sign and viewed from the start again. Her laptop malfunctioned though. Even for a high-end model, too many programs were open at once. The image on the screen froze while the audio continued.

At that moment, Lillian Kitchener walked through the front door.

‘… ensure your elbows are at the same angle as mine for maximum defence and that your hands are brought together like this…’ the YouTube clip went on.

Her gran’s sudden appearance took Juliet by surprise. She jolted, then punched various keys on the laptop before she resorted to slamming the lid down.

Lillian frowned at her suspiciously. ‘What was that you were listening to? It sounded like a self-defence program.’

It wasn’t like Juliet Maystone to lose her composure so easily, but for a moment, she became stuck for words. There was no point in lying or denying it, though. She answered, ‘It’s sensible to learn how to protect myself.’ Her response came out stronger than intended.

‘I suppose it is,’ said Lillian, clearly unconvinced. ‘But, sweetheart, why would anyone want to hurt you?’

And now the lies. Lies lies lies. She hated bending the truth, deceiving people, treating them like they were stupid. She believed it best not to coddle others, but in these circumstances, she couldn’t be honest without sounding crazy or endangering herself and the other people involved.

‘No one.’ Then, as convincingly as she could tell such an ominous line, she added, ‘But you never know when someone might try to hurt you.’ Like when Aldrich forced me to attack Nicolas.

Lillian laughed casually, her wrinkles creasing. ‘Well I suppose you better teach me, then.’ When Juliet smiled back weakly, Lillian continued with, ‘No, I shan’t bother. I don’t believe the world is a cruel place. I try not to do bad to others, and I’ve never been attacked in all my years. I like to think that’s how it works.’

Of course her Gran’s words made Juliet wonder, What bad have I done to others? But, rarely one for self-pity, she quickly dismissed that line of thought. She walked towards the kitchen and said, ‘I’ll make you some tea, Gran.’

They sat together for a while, Lillian asking questions. ‘Are you going to see that gentleman again? The one you went for a meal with.’ Lillian smiled, her interest apparent. She had a genuine way about her. When she grinned it seemed whole, and when she laughed it came out hearty. Juliet had moments when she looked at her gran, and for a second didn’t recognise her. After years of separation, her mind automatically saw Lillian as the woman in her childhood memories. But now her gran’s hair was a fine and silvery-grey collection that met her shoulders, she had leathery skin, and her teeth had a yellow sheen. Even sitting down she was obviously a short woman.

‘Yes.’ Juliet nodded. ‘We’re seeing each other again soon. Monday, maybe.’ She’d only met Austin Townsend a few weeks ago, but they were texting a lot, and Austin seemed eager to get to know her.

‘Good. It’s nice to see you getting out of the house.’

Juliet compressed her lips, then said, ‘What do you mean?’

‘I’m sorry, sweetheart. I don’t mean to invade your personal life. I had simply noticed that you’ve not been to your café lately. You’ve been spending a lot of time indoors.’

Her gran was right, and maybe hearing it aloud was what Juliet needed. The past few months, she’d left the house less and less often. She used to jog along the coastline most mornings, up to the hills, but now she stuck to her indoor gym. She used to obsess over her café, Chanton Hillview, but now she avoided the interaction, leaving Roy and Sandra in charge. She used to volunteer at a charity shop, but the owner asked her not to bother after Juliet cancelled two shifts in a row (once due to visiting Grendel Manor, and the next because she was afraid to be in public after the reports of a body discovered at The Burning Grounds). She’d known right away it was Aldrich’s.

She chewed her bottom lip while a frown shaped her face. ‘Don’t worry, Gran. I’ve just had a lot on my mind.’ She smiled, aiming for reassuring.

‘Okay. Well, I’m here if you wish to speak with me.’ Lillian grinned mischievously. ‘Maybe we should visit London again? You seemed to enjoy that.’

Christmas and Juliet’s twenty-sixth birthday had crept up on her. The stress of everything made her want to get away, so she went to London for a week with Lillian to ‘celebrate.’ In England’s capital, they enjoyed the Christmas lights: brilliant archways like stars strung together, buildings with frames of fairy lights (orange, yellow, silver, red, green, purple), trees taller than buses, and of course the bright halo of the London Eye. While there, they also visited Winter Wonderland in Hyde Park, but left after an hour or so; the cold weather had been tough on Lillian, and after such a long day Juliet began to struggle with her ability. She saw spirits everywhere she turned.

‘Yes,’ Juliet answered. ‘Maybe.’

Lillian responded with an understanding smile, then got up steadily and walked out of the kitchen. She disappeared upstairs, taking the steps with slow, careful movements.

For a minute, Juliet simply waited, tangled up inside. It was almost unbearable; her mind urged her to do something, forget about it, get on with the day, but what was there to do? With Lillian about, the house was always spotless and the front and back gardens were perfectly maintained. Lillian had even added to the flower beds. And since discovering her parents had deceived her, Juliet had given up learning Spanish. She was not a quitter, but she’d mainly wanted to learn for the sake of visiting her parents in Marbella (which she now didn’t plan on doing any time soon). Another time-filling hobby was lost back in February when her certificate with distinction arrived for completing a diet and nutrition home-study course. So far, she hadn’t selected any further education to replace it.

Do something …

In the past she would have popped into Chanton Hillview to help out. But the thought made her uneasy now. They look at me as if they know. Back when the redecoration of the café had been completed, and Juliet saw how much dedication her staff had put in, she’d been filled with a desire to be around people who cared: her colleagues, her gran, and her best friend Kim. But that desire was short-lived. The next morning she woke to the news of what had happened at The Burning Grounds. Panicked, she began avoiding Chanton Hillview and the people she had wanted to spend time with. Now she visited the café only occasionally, covering holidays and sickness, and she would call up most days to talk to Roy or Sandra.

Learn more self-defence? her unsettled mind suggested, but it further irritated her . She couldn’t believe her gran had caught her practising. For three months she’d surreptitiously watched online videos to learn basic defence techniques. It was something she’d never considered before this year. But the more she hid indoors with nothing to do, the harder it was to avoid ruminating; the more she ruminated, the worse her fear became.

So far, she’d learnt a simple stance for blocking punches aimed at the head and upper body, ways to break free from wrist grabs, shirt grabs, and hair grabs, and, if a situation called for it, she’d learnt vital places to strike: eyes, ears, nose, throat, groin, kneecaps. She may have lost some confidence, and she was too proud to go for face-to-face classes, but teaching herself was her way of trying her best. For extra safety, she’d ordered a personal alarm from the internet. It had arrived a few weeks back and was now attached to the keys she kept on her, where she could quickly set off the dizzyingly loud siren if necessary.

‘I’m just off to yoga, sweetheart,’ she heard her gran say, seeing her shuffle downstairs and towards the front door. Once a week Lillian took a bus into Amiton to visit the gym for an over fifties yoga class.

‘Okay. Have a lovely time.’

About to slip into deep thought again, Juliet shook herself and got up. She changed her outfit to a black crop top, polyester shorts, and white trainers, then headed for the treadmill. She stretched and began. Ten minutes of steady running: She felt as if she’d not exercised at all. Twenty minutes: no aches, no shortness of breath. Thirty: She picked up the pace. Frowning, she sprinted to forty, fifty, one hour.

When she stopped, she stepped off and waited expectantly. Her body wasn’t tired or sweaty, though, nor was her breathing laboured. Every day she had more energy. She could have run for longer, but she apparently didn’t need to; her health improved by itself. Not only did her physical stamina develop, but her mind rarely tired, her hair grew fast and shone bright, and her complexion was pure.

‘What is wrong with me?’ she asked the gym mirror, marvelling at her sweat-free face.

For a large slice of the day she read a trashy romance novel in bed. It was the only fiction she indulged in, finding escapism in the easy writing style, but in general she stuck to academic works and self-empowerment books. Time drifted by, the main character’s over-the-top problems offering a welcome distraction. But when Juliet reached the final page, the tied-up-in-a-neat-bow ending irritated her.

Afterwards, she sorted through her wardrobes, filling one with favourite clothes and the other with items she rarely wore. Then she texted Austin, talking about anything and everything. Hobbies. Films. Foods. Drinks. Books. Holidays. Work. Education … The weather. His tastes were different from hers, but she was careful not to point that out. It was refreshing.

After a while he stopped replying, apparently busy. A buzzing under Juliet’s skin made her tense up. I have nothing to do, she realised. With free time galore, negativity seeped into her life. She was ordinarily an optimist, or at least skilled at purging gloomy contemplation, but anxiety seemed to breed in free time and isolation.

Her mind went back to the trashy novel. Can I forgive my parents and have a happy-book-ending relationship with them? Her skin answered, cringing vexedly at the thought of what they’d done.

Tension set into her jaw as she pondered it all. More topics drew uncharacteristic bitterness, but instead of moping, she decided to put a smile on her face. A knock at her bedroom door snapped her to alertness.

Lillian had returned home, prepared dinner, and now invited her granddaughter downstairs. Juliet ate in a hidden mood, making conversation and frequent jokes. Lies lies lies rolled around at the back of her mind.

At one point, Lillian stopped eating and winced.

‘Are you okay, Gran?’

‘Yes, sweetheart. It’s just my joints aching … Blame it on the yoga.’ She laughed pleasantly. ‘My hip has been playing me up a little. Nothing to worry about.’

‘You should see a doctor.’ Lillian was generally sprightly, with only the natural caution for her age.

‘No, no, don’t you worry. It will be the yoga; I am getting old, you know.’

Juliet gave a half smile, unconvinced. ‘If it gets worse, promise me you’ll have it checked out.’

‘Of course, sweetheart.’

After dinner, Juliet bathed in silence, but soon switched on the sound system to fill the dreary nothingness. Then, in bed, she huffed, turned, puffed, and fidgeted.

She was a jumble of contradiction: tension from constant worry, but then a mass of vitality and strength; her muscles locking up at the thought of Aldrich’s gored body, but then an eagerness for physical exertion; wanting control over her ability, but also wishing she had no psychic power at all; avoiding people and activities, but nagged by an active mind; wanting to forget Nicolas because of what Tommy did, but fondly recalling his brown-green eyes; trying not to get ahead of herself with Austin, but swiftly becoming attracted to him and the idea of a relationship … the closeness it could offer—something she’d never truly had.

Eventually she fell asleep, frustrated. Although her neglected schedule didn’t reflect it, she at least had something to do tomorrow: visit the only living descendant of the Lansin Island Witches.

‘Juliet, come straight in,’ said the woman with orange hair. She stepped aside and pulled the cottage door wide open.

‘Hello, Tamara.’ Juliet walked in with her shoulders hunched up and her arms folded. Instantly she was too warm. She wore a long, thick coat almost every time she left the house now, zipped up and tightly buttoned. Although she occasionally received jealous glances from other women because of the blatant quality of the faux fur, she felt hidden wearing the coat in public. Or maybe even protected, as if the garment had its own forcefield.

Tamara prepared a drink immediately. Juliet had attended enough appointments for the medium to know her preference: any fruit juice or plain water.

After hanging up her coat, Juliet took a seat in the low-ceilinged living room. A fire was lit, as usual. Each time she visited, Juliet spotted more witchy paraphernalia she hadn’t noticed before: oils, wands, incense, herbs, crystals, and such. Tamara had never used these articles in front of her, which left Juliet wondering if they were purely for show, to please other clients.

On her return, Tamara said, ‘I’m sorry I had to push our appointment so far back today.’

‘Don’t worry about it. Thanks for still seeing me at this time.’ The session was meant to start late afternoon, but earlier in the day, Tamara called Juliet and explained that one of her clients had an urgent matter. She asked to move their meeting into the evening. The witch had a flexible schedule to fit around her customers’ work patterns, but she’d already booked people in. Juliet ended up with a late slot: 8:00–9:00 p.m.

The time wasn’t an issue, but it did mean Juliet had to get a taxi to Willow, rather than the public transport she’d ordinarily use. At first she’d felt bad about keeping the appointment, rather than making the suggestion to rearrange for another day, but she didn’t want to cancel. She needed to see Tamara.

‘So,’ Tamara began, ‘have you seen many spirits since our last meeting?’ She passed a clear glass filled with water to Juliet. The medium had on a full-length robe, the way she always seemed to dress, but today’s colour was mustard yellow. It clashed with her fiery hair less than most of her other robes did.

‘No, not many. I suppose I haven’t left the house enough, though.’ Ghosts rarely appeared in her home unless they wanted to contact her directly, or if a person the spirit knew was there.

A couple of months back, an apparition of an elderly man had stumbled about the downstairs of Juliet’s house. Occasionally stressing, he murmured, ‘Cecilia, I-I-I can’t reach it. I shouldn’t be stretching with my back the way it is. No, no! Pffft!
I’m useless? You climb up here and get the damn thing yourself … Didn’t think so!’ The spirit entered through the kitchen wall. Everything he brushed against or passed through glowed momentarily on touch. He ignored Juliet, but carried on staggering and mumbling until he cleared the length of the downstairs, and then exited through a wall in the lounge. The last thing Juliet heard him mutter was, ‘Fine, fine! But you’ll regret this, darling. If I fall. You’ll regret this.’

That incident, and many others, still haunted Juliet.

‘You’ve not even felt a presence?’ asked Tamara.

‘In the taxi on the way here. Driving past a field, I thought I saw a figure … and maybe it registered that I could see it, but then I practised what you’ve been teaching me.’

Tamara smiled approvingly. ‘And did it work?’

‘When I looked back out of the window, it was gone. I couldn’t feel its presence any longer.’

For roughly four months, Juliet had visited Tamara biweekly to learn how to block out the spirits. She made the decision to visit the quaint hamlet of Willow and seek help from the witch after her confidence had been flipped upside down.

It was half a year ago when she had begun staying indoors most of the time. But on the occasions she had had to go outside, she struggled to handle the spirits. Some would stare, follow her, talk to her, ask her questions. And one time a spirit had even mimicked her movements, maybe to taunt her, before it vanished.

Fortunately, most of the dead paid her no mind. Unfortunately, the ignorant ones could be just as disturbing. She’d once seen triplets, three little girls with mocha hair, trailing behind a couple. The ghost children were slathered in blood. At the time, Juliet wondered if they knew they were dead, if they would ever move on. Or would the girls stalk their living parents for years to come?

Tamara hadn’t agreed to help Juliet at first, disagreeing with her desire to block out spirits quite possibly in need of help, but Juliet’s desperate state had convinced the witch. And so their training began. Juliet gained a level of control quickly, noticing a difference after just one session. Her quick grasp had made possible the trip to London with her gran, and over the following weeks, she continued to work with Tamara.

Juliet’s constantly improving health and mental stamina aided her learning. As things began to settle, her biggest concern became how much time she spent indoors. The habit needed breaking. After all, the spirits were more bearable now, and the case of Aldrich’s murder appeared to have hit a wall. Sometimes Juliet worried that people sensed her guilt, that they intuitively knew she’d done something wrong. But she would rationalise that it was just paranoia.

‘Juliet?’ Tamara waved a hand at her. ‘Are you feeling alright?’

‘Sorry.’ She blinked rapidly, coming back to the now. ‘I’ve had a lot to think about.’ She attempted a reassuring smile.

Tamara squeezed her eyebrows together. ‘Of course.’ Then her face relaxed. ‘That reminds me. I looked into the matter we discussed. The way you’re full of life and energy. I’m afraid I don’t know what is happening to you.’

The words were not what Juliet had wanted to hear, but all she could say back was, ‘It’s fine.’

‘I am sorry. I told you I’ve not met anyone like you before. I sensed you were different when we first met, and I can sense and know many things others could never perceive, but … I can’t know all the effects that losing your soul will have on you.’

‘Hopefully not many more; seeing spirits is bad enough.’ Juliet surprised herself with a laugh, feeling light-hearted for the first time in ages.

‘I don’t know what’s to complain about with good health.’

‘I’m not complai—’ She cut herself short. ‘Well, maybe I am. But it’s not that I’m ungrateful. I’m just so used to working hard and eating well to keep fit. Now my habits make no difference.’ She sensed a sadness she hadn’t realised was present in her body. ‘My favourite obsessions, exercise and dieting, have become unnecessary.’ It surprised her how easily she spoke with Tamara. Have we become friends? she thought, and then told herself, Friends don’t charge forty pounds per hour for their help. But she could hardly blame Tamara for that.

‘You are too strict with yourself,’ Tamara said in her frank way.

‘Maybe I am.’

Tamara slapped her knees energetically. ‘Okay! Let us begin. You seem to mostly have control over your ability. So what do you wish to work on today?’

‘I don’t have as much control as I want. It’s easy enough to do once or twice, but I want to passively block the spirits out, so I only see them when I want to.’

‘Hmmm. That should be achievable. Let me try something … Close your eyes and focus on what you’ve learnt, while I read your energy.’

Juliet did as told. Shuffles came beside her, and air brushed close to her face. She knew Tamara would be ‘scanning’ her with her witchy hands. She tried hard to make lucid intentions, but thoughts of Aldrich crept into her head. She discarded them. Focused. Doubts emerged. She refocused. Then she saw images of a ball of light bobbing through enchanted woods, and ancient steps leading down to a portal. How can these things exist?

‘Juliet,’ said Tamara in a hard tone. ‘You must still be resisting; there’s too much conflict in your heart and mind.’

Juliet opened her eyes. ‘Yes, I know … I am trying, though. You know this doesn’t come easily to me.’ She thought of the first time she’d visited Tamara, when she’d slammed the door shut on her way out, incredulous of the witch’s diagnosis.

‘What are you struggling with? Surely you’ve seen enough spirits by now to believe in their existence.’

‘Yes.’

‘Well, you are not believing in something. Do you doubt your own ability to gain control?’

‘I don’t know.’ In everything, Juliet always gave her best. She considered herself as capable as anyone else, if not more competent. Maybe all the unknowns were holding her back now. Thriving in this world was easy because she could focus on success and see the practical steps towards it, but when it came to her ability, she knew very little about the Spiritworld (and even less about the Otherworld). This left her with no clear path. For all she knew, dangerous beings inhabited these other places; why would she want to interfere?

‘Actually,’ she began, ‘I think I find it hard because I don’t understand how it all works. How could my mind alone affect something outside of my body? Something physical?’ She paused. ‘Wait, is the Spiritworld a physical place?’ The question boggled her.

‘Juliet … Even with what I know about the Spiritworld, there is much more I do not know. It is nothing like our world, you see. But this should neither hinder nor frighten you. Take the time to go inside of your head and assess your thoughts, ensure they are congruous. Sense your emotions throughout your body. If you’re feeling contradictory or tense, you are most surely unclear in your intentions. When you believe it can be done, and you can focus all your energy into one path, you will succeed.’

Juliet quirked her mouth at Tamara’s cheesy words.

‘You are not taking this seriously,’ the witch said heavily. She frowned in a way that aged her. With her vivid hair and proud face, she looked youthful for someone of her age, but every so often, Juliet caught glimpses of frailty.

‘I am taking it seriously. Trust me, I am.’

‘Hmmm. If it will help you to see it in a more serious light, I’ll explain that when I ask you to believe, I do not mean it in a silly way, as if the difference between believing in fairies could kill one or bring one of their kind back to life. That is not true. It’s more to do with knowing yourself. For example, if a man found himself in a desperate way, no food, no drink, no money, he wouldn’t refrain from stealing simply because the law says he should not steal, and not because other people tell him it is wrong, either. He would refrain because he has looked inside himself and decided in his heart and mind what is wrong and what is right. Putting aside the opinions of others, he has come to truly believe in his own reasoning. He has faith in himself … and there is power in faith.’

‘I thought you weren’t religious.’ Juliet realised how stupid the comment was as soon as she said it. She had taken in Tamara’s explanation. I know what to aim for now. She tried hard to let the comment about fairies slide on by; if they existed, she wished to remain ignorant.

‘You know I am not.’ Apparently Tamara felt no need to expand on her response, which Juliet was glad for. ‘Oooh!’ the witch exclaimed. ‘Can you feel it? A spirit is trying to get through.’

Juliet primed her senses. The temperature dropped and the fire madly flickered. She heard taps and echoes. She’d come to realise she was the only one who saw the theatrics that accompanied some ghosts. Tamara had told Juliet that maybe she was glimpsing elements of the ‘in-between,’ the Spiritworld … or that the weird happenings could just be the way her mind interpreted those elements.

‘Juliet, this is your perfect chance to practise. Consolidate your learning!’ said the witch excitedly. ‘I can feel how strong this spirit is; it wants to reach you.’

‘Okay.’ She took a rallying breath. Eyes closed, she found a new determination. She gathered her reasons for blocking out the spirits. Each reason she examined and accepted as valid. She hunted for doubts and picked out their flaws until they were no more. She remembered all the impossible things she’d seen, and in the most rational way possible, she forced herself to accept their existence.

‘Yes,’ said Tamara, almost frantically, ‘a sturdier energy emanates from you now. This is good. Keep it up.’

Juliet opened her eyes, and she felt it: Her control was taking charge. But before the spirit was banished, she glimpsed a flash of blood. The room was normal again, the face a forgotten blur, the gore no more.

‘It worked.’ She began to smile, her shoulders descending and losing tension. For a short but amazing moment, she felt like her usual self. Optimism rushed into her mind. I’ll start busying myself again. I’ll learn something new. I’ll get back to work. I’ll confront Mum and Dad. I’ll give this thing with Austin a real shot. But nevertheless, she tinged her hopeful thoughts with caution.

‘Well done.’ Tamara put a hand on Juliet’s arm. Her lips moved into a smile that hinted at sadness.

‘Are you okay, Tamara?’

‘Oh, yes.’ She straightened her expression. ‘The way you smiled there, you reminded me of someone. That’s all.’

Juliet believed it decent to remain silent. If Tamara wanted to share, she would.

After a while an idea came to Juliet. A question she should have asked months ago. With a frown, she said, ‘Tamara …?’ elongating the name enquiringly. The medium responded with a nod, then waited. ‘The first time I came to see you, you told me my soul had moved on to the Otherworld.’

‘Yes.’ Tamara sounded cautious.

‘Is there any way to get it back? Do you know how to get to the Otherworld?’

Silence prickled the air while Tamara sat mute. The witch turned her eyes away from Juliet and gazed at the fire. Dancing orange, the blaze seemed like a spectator equally as interested in Tamara’s answer as Juliet was. The witch sighed heavily before answering, though if in regret, relief, frustration, or for any reason at all, Juliet couldn’t tell.

‘No, I’m afraid I don’t. And it’s unlikely you will ever find a way there.’

A sigh escaped Juliet this time, an extended exhale—this one undeniably in frustration.

CHAPTER THREE

WHEN HE CAME to, a paramedic was looking down at him. Her eyes were big. She began to talk, but he ignored her, his mind screaming for Kerra. He heard the woman’s voice go on, inflection at the end of each sentence, but her words were insignificant. ‘Hey, there, what’s your name?’

Where is Kerra?

He realised he was lying down on a landing halfway up the stairs. He pushed himself up to his knees.

‘Your name’s Nicolas Crystan, right? I’m—’

Owhh... He went to raise a hand towards the throb above his ear, but the lady with large eyes gently moved his arm aside. I fell and hit my head, he remembered. Then in finer words the paramedic explained that Nick had cut the right side of his head, and apparently Mr Hayworth had acted fast to staunch the blood flow while the ambulance was on its way. The bleeding had stopped, but in a while, the paramedic would check the wound again.

‘Do you feel nauseous at all?’

Stop asking me questions. Where’s Kerra? Who’s looking for Kerra? For some reason, he was unable to speak. The thought of talking made his stomach churn. He shut his eyes hard. His mouth had brewed a foul taste from the blood and his time out cold. The side of his face felt stiff, caked with dry blood.

‘Are you experiencing any dizziness?’

A moment passed. His body settled, so he cautiously opened his eyes. He saw Mr Hayworth standing down in the hallway. The hotel owner stared up at him, seemingly concerned. Nick failed to understand why Edward Hayworth looked so troubled.

Police officers were dotted about. The live music was no more. A row of people queued before a policeman, an odd sight for Nick in his dazed state. The officer scribbled onto a pad, then gestured to speak to the next in line. Everyone looked eager to leave.

The scene was horribly serious, and it sobered Nick in a swift moment. ‘Where is Kerra?’ burst out of his mouth. The paramedic jumped, and every police officer turned to Nick with sharpness.

‘Mr Crystan,’ the woman said softly, ‘the police are looking for her now.’

‘Is she alive?’

The paramedic somehow ignored his question in a polite and empathetic way. ‘Once you feel okay to stand, we are going to take you to the hospital for a check-up.’

‘I’m staying here.’

‘It won’t take long—’

‘I’m not going.’

The big-eyed woman lost her empathy then; with a face of exasperation, she said, ‘Fine. You’ll need to sign a form.’ She hurried off, then returned with it. While Nick signed, she inspected his wound again and explained how to care for it. ‘Don’t drive for at least twenty-four hours, and if you live alone, I recommend having someone over to watch you for the next day or so.’

‘Thank you,’ he said weakly.

She smiled with compressed lips, then said, ‘That’s okay. The officers need to talk to you. I’ll fill them in on your condition.’

He nodded; it hurt. The paramedic whose name he never caught moved away slowly and spoke to a burly policewoman. Nick tentatively arched his neck to look up the stairs … where his romantic weekend was supposed to begin.

Another officer stood at the top of the steps, guarding the way. It surprised Nick how many were present. How long was I unconscious for? Maybe when the first couple had arrived, they’d realised backup was needed to effectively handle a hotel full of potential suspects … or maybe the situation was worse than Nick knew. Right now he didn’t care for police procedures, as long as they found his girlfriend.

Crying came from somewhere, a woman, but Nick couldn’t figure the location.

‘I’m Detective Constable Roughton.’ She caught him off guard. When he turned in the direction of the voice, he found a bulky woman, intimidating in size but not uniform; she wore a khaki trench coat that made her look big and shapeless, a smart white shirt underneath, and below she had on black trousers and shiny brogues. When Nick thought of the word ‘detective,’ he usually imagined people dressed a lot fancier than this.

‘This is PC Callard.’ She nodded towards a uniformed man standing to her side. His face was grim and tired; he was probably starting a night shift, or at the end of a long day’s work. ‘We’re going to take a statement and your personal details for now. Are you okay to talk here?’

‘Yeah.’ He gave his details, explained why he was at the hotel, why he’d left and come back, where he’d went, what he’d seen in his guestroom, what he’d done when he’d seen it, and why he’d been running when he fell. ‘I wanted to find her.’

‘Okay. That’s all for now.’ Roughton said everything louder than necessary, making Nick uncomfortable. Her large frame cast a shadow up the steps and onto the landing.

‘So you weren’t trying to get away?’ Officer Callard asked. Roughton turned to her colleague, her jaw noticeably tight.

‘No,’ Nick answered forcefully. Most of the people queuing looked over at him, as if he were a threat. They think I’m guilty. A rush of blood moved through his body. He became defensive. ‘Why aren’t you looking for her? Who is looking for her?’

Roughton held a hand up to Callard, as if to cut off a reply, then said, ‘My colleagues are searching for Miss Evans as we speak. The more information we get, and the sooner, the better our chances of finding her.’

Nick’s mind transported back to when he was sixteen, when his mother had disappeared. He’d answered a lot of questions for a detective back then. Many people had thought Nick’s dad, John Crystan, was guilty (or could at least be blamed for driving his wife away). Even Nick’s extended family on Samantha’s side treated John and his sons with suspicion. Relationships broke down fast; Nick effectively lost aunts, uncles, and cousins. As if losing his mother wasn’t bad enough.

Detective Roughton seemed about to say more, but Nick hung his head in his hands. He tried to be strong while the side of his skull throbbed. Remembering the past and thinking of Kerra injured, scared, alone, or worse, could easily have made him cry, but he held it back. He’d been tear-free for months. Now wasn’t the time to start sobbing; he needed to keep it together, for Kerra’s sake.

So much blood …

His head shot up. ‘Have you spoken to a man named Callum? He saw me with Kerra last. And his wife, they both saw me return … Maybe they know something? Or, or, Mr Hayworth?’ He threw a finger towards the hotel owner, pointing frantically. ‘Oh, and—’

‘Mr Crystan,’ Detective Roughton raised her voice. ‘You’re going to have to calm down. If you persist in asking questions, I’ll have to caution—’

‘I saw a man with curly hair,’ he blundered on. ‘He was in the hall. Then when I came back he was out the front.’

So the detective cautioned him. ‘You do not have to say anything. But it may harm your defence if you do not mention …’

Nick stopped his rambling. People were watching, judging. ‘Are you arresting me?’

Roughton looked at him, her gaze level. ‘Not if you’ll voluntarily come to the station for an interview.’

His face turned hot. He could only answer, ‘Okay.’ Closing his eyes for a moment, he thought, I’m such an idiot. I should have kept quiet and tried to help the search. Now I’ve made myself look suspicious. ‘Can I stay and help look for her? Please?’

Detective Roughton’s eyebrows squeezed together. ‘There are plenty on the case already. If you’re okay to stand up, you need to walk with us to the front of the premises, please. Before we take you to the station we’d like to check the contents of your car.’ Nick’s face turned unintentionally indignant. The detective must have noticed, because she added, ‘We’re checking everybody’s vehicle before allowing them to leave.’

Her last sentence reassured him somewhat, knowing they were trying to find Kerra. But if they were checking cars, then what were they looking for? A weapon? A body? His heart pulled in tight. Thinking of the blood nightmares, hating himself for doubting their significance, he stood up. His stomach gave a queasy lurch. When it calmed, he walked up the hallway alongside Roughton and Callard.

The evening was cold, hardening Nick’s face as he stepped outside. He imagined Kerra injured and alone, out in this temperature. Through the dark he could see the ambulance in the drive. He was glad it still waited.

An officer stood about, receiving the people who’d queued and had presumably given their statements and details before leaving the building. He spoke with them, and with their apparent permission, he used a torch to check their vehicles, bags, and other belongings.

Nick led Roughton and Callard to his Vauxhall Corsa. He unlocked it, and then gestured to show the officers they were free to search as they liked. Callard rummaged around the front and examined the contents of the glove compartment, while Roughton inspected the boot and the backseats. If Nick hadn’t been preoccupied with worry, dread, fear, stress, and myriad other emotions, then he would have been embarrassed by the amount of rubbish in his car: McDonald’s paper bags, empty bottles, wrappers, sweets, receipts. He waited, shivering with his arms folded, until the search was done.

He wondered which officer was of highest rank, so he could talk to them to learn exactly what was being done to find Kerra, but he’d probably already caused enough of a scene. At this rate he’d end up in a cell. Still, he glanced at Callard’s uniform, trying to identify a difference; all he noticed was a badge-like thing on Callard’s shoulder, but it had numbers and letters of no meaning to him.

‘Thank you, Mr Crystan,’ said Roughton with a nod. ‘Wait here with PC Callard, please. We’ll take you to the station soon.’ She crunched across the gravel and headed inside West Edge Country House. Nick waited; many people were given permission to leave, until there were only a few cars left.

Roughton reappeared with Mr Hayworth, Callum, and Callum’s wife, whose face looked puffy and red. Nick had a dark moment where he stared at the hotel owner and the two guests, and deeply considered if they were capable of harming Kerra. All three of them were taken to a police car by another officer. Being questioned, like me.

The detective approached Nick and then directed him to a different car. Nick got in the back, Roughton in the passenger’s seat, and Callard in the driver’s seat. For the entire journey, a tension twisted inside of him, as if his body knew they were going in the wrong direction. How can they drive away like this, while Kerra is still missing? Refraining himself from talking had never been so hard. He bit his tongue, and tried to trust the efforts of the police.

Blood and Kerra’s face flashed through his mind.

At the station he was left in a waiting area with Mr Hayworth and the couple. Roughton watched them for a while before leaving, like she was hoping for a reaction, but no one caused a scene. Nick observed the sorry looks. He hated their pity.

Other unrelated people sat about too, most appearing unhappy. Nick wondered what he looked like to them, with blood crusted on his face. He rubbed his cheek in hope of erasing the red mess.

The police made him wait until last. Roughton took away and brought back the other three from the hotel, then sent them on their way. ‘Mr Crystan,’ the detective called. Nick stood up too swiftly; blood rushed to his head, making his injury burn. The detective took him to a desk where another officer signed him in.

Led by Roughton, he ended up in a small interview room. The walls were painted white, with clear outlines of the brickwork. Against one was a wooden desk with two chairs on either side of it, and the floor was black rubber, like a gym floor. It had a claustrophobic feel, as if the room itself were watching from every angle.

Roughton reminded Nick that he was being voluntarily interviewed, he had a right to leave at any point, he wasn’t obliged to answer questions, and he was entitled to seek legal advice. She cautioned him again for the sake of the recorder.

‘I don’t want a lawyer; I just want you to find Kerra.’ Arranging legal aid would take time. He assumed the sooner they eliminated him as a suspect, the sooner they’d stop wasting resources on him. But he also had a stubborn and naïve belief that his innocence was all the protection he needed.

So the interview began.

Most questions led to answers he’d already covered in his statement. But Roughton did ask what Callard had wanted to know at the hotel: ‘Why were you running away from the room when you fell?’

‘I wasn’t running away from anything. I was running towards the front of the hotel … I saw a man with curly hair. He was acting suspiciously, and I saw him hurrying away from the hotel when I got back from the shop. When he saw me pull in, he slowed down and walked instead, then he was gone by the time I parked up.’

Roughton developed a frown on her face. ‘At West Edge Country House, you told me you ran because you wanted to find Miss Evans, your girlfriend.’

She’s trying to trip me up. ‘That is why. I thought the man might have had something to do with it, so I wanted to look for him … search out the front and around the outside of the hotel.’

‘Did you recognise the man?’

‘Only from earlier on when I checked in with Kerra.’ The use of his girlfriend’s name so casually, as if she wasn’t missing, made his heart jump. He paused, then continued. ‘He was in the hall where the band was, and I caught his eye, but then he avoided looking at me.’

‘So you’ve never seen him before today?’

‘Never.’

‘Do you think you could describe him?’ Roughton’s naturally loud voice made the room feel smaller.

‘I could try. But he turned away the first time I saw him, and the second time was at a distance, and it was dark.’

‘I’ll have an artist interview you after this, if we have one in tonight, okay?’

‘Okay.’ Nick had no idea of the time. It must have been late.

She asked him a lot of practical questions then, and Nick bitterly wondered why his interview was left until last; his answers could have been vital to locating Kerra. The questions were about his girlfriend’s appearance, what she was wearing, what relatives and friends she had, and where she worked. Another officer was present during the questioning, but he was silent, as if only invited in to observe … or to intimidate.

Roughton surprised Nick by leaving the room suddenly. For the sake of the recording, she stated she was exiting as she walked out. Is she playing mind games with me? He awkwardly smiled at the silent officer still in the room. He didn’t smile back.

When Roughton returned, she explained that Nick would have to come in for more questioning within the next few days, most likely tomorrow. Someone would be in contact with him to arrange it.

Another officer had entered the room and swapped with the silent one, sitting down across from Nick. Roughton informed the blind tape recorder of who was present and why, then Nick was asked specific details about the curly-haired man. The officer who’d just entered sketched away.

It took ages. With every question asked, Nick became more doubtful about the accuracy of his recall. When the artist was done, he revealed the sketch. It looked more like Sideshow Bob from The Simpsons than the guy Nick had seen. But he’d described him as best he could, so it would have to do. At least they’re finally doing something …

After that, Roughton asked for eliminating fingerprints and DNA, which Nick provided without protest.

‘Thanks for being so cooperative this evening, Mr Crystan,’ Roughton said, and she even lowered her voice.

‘Is that it?’ Nick spat out. ‘What are you doing to find Kerra? Shouldn’t you be out there looking for her right now?’

‘We are doing the best we can,’ the detective said sternly, then she led him back to the waiting room. ‘We’ll be in contact when we know more. You can return to West Edge Country House to collect your vehicle, but please, Mr Crystan, don’t give my colleagues any hassle. Just go home for the night … and don’t try looking for Miss Evans yourself.’

Roughton turned and left. For a minute or so, Nick stood still and closed his eyes in a rage so fierce he didn’t trust his own actions. He breathed and breathed until his anger lessened.

When he pulled out his mobile, he was unprepared for the image saved to the background: a picture of Kerra smiling on Christmas day after she’d opened presents from him. The red tint of her hair resonated with the crumpled wrapping paper beside her. But everything that colour reminded him of blood; in a sad hurry he searched his contacts for ‘Tom’ and dialled.

‘Tom? I’m at the police station … Erm, Glaith Lane, yeah. No, just come get me. You need to take me to my car. Just pick me up. Please.’ He hung up, and bit his lip, regretting how curt he’d been. He would have called his dad, but he didn’t want to disturb his rest, even at a moment like this. Plus, a missing person was a sensitive subject for John Crystan.

As Nick exited the building, his body itched to do something. He briefly contemplated running all the way to the hotel and scouring the surrounding area on foot. I’ll search the entire island if I have to! Then he felt guilt, because he hadn’t been this energised to act back when his mother vanished. I was younger then … I’d thought she’d left us … I’d thought she’d wanted a better life.

Tom arrived while Nick stood mulling, shivering, and tense. The moment Tom stepped out of his car, Nick lost his strength and went to his brother. He hugged him, hiding his face. Tears fought to get through. Don’t cry! His eyes became hot. Don’t! Not now!

‘Nick … what’s happened?’ Tom asked softly, holding his older brother.

‘It’s Kerra. I … I don’t know where she is.’ He struggled to talk through panting and a tight throat. ‘She’s been taken, I think. There … there … was so much blood.’

Nick was taller than his brother, but he pushed his face down to Tom’s shoulder to hide his pain. When he’d been depressed, he had never spoken to his family about it, never opened up to anyone but his counsellor. Now he was less afraid to show his emotions.

Tom said nothing for a while, then, ‘Let’s get in the car. We can’t talk here.’

They walked to Tom’s dark green Mini Cooper with a black roof, a car financed by their dad (unlike the Vauxhall Corsa Nick had struggled to buy off his own back), and Nick pulled himself together on the way. This wasn’t the time to have a mental break down.

As soon as they sat in the car, Tom asked, ‘Do you think this has anything to do with Aldrich?’ He muffled the name.

Nick turned to his brother, wide-eyed. ‘We shouldn’t discuss this here.’ He looked over at the entrance to Glaith Lane Police Station. The idea that it was a targeted attack, that Kerra was paying the price for something she wasn’t involved in, was too awful. ‘But I don’t see how it could be related. Anyway, let’s talk about it while you drive me to the hotel.’ He explained the directions.

‘What did the police say?’ Tom asked as they drove.

‘Hardly anything. I don’t think they have a clue what they’re doing. They told me to collect my car and go home for the night. To do nothing.’ He shook his head emphatically; his cut throbbed. ‘They can’t think I’m just going to sit about at home while she’s out there somewhere.’

‘But you have to,’ said Tom in a reasonable tone.

‘No, I don’t. As soon as you drop me off, I’m going to search the area. I’ll get in my car and drive around, figure out where Kerra could have been taken.’

‘That’s a bad idea.’

‘Would you go home and do nothing if Michael were missing?’ An edge appeared in his voice.

‘Nick. It’s not about that.’ Tom maintained a steady focus on his driving while he spoke; he was good at keeping calm in tough situations. ‘If you draw attention to yourself, then the police might somehow link us to Aldrich’s death.’

‘How? Ryan destroyed the evidence. It’s been months now.’

‘I think you’re underestimating the police; they don’t just put anyone in a uniform, or make any randomer a detective. They are trained to read body language, mannerisms, your facial expressions; if they think you’re hiding something, they might dig further. Six of us know what happened to Aldrich: me, you, Tommy, Dad, Juliet, and Ryan. And as Juliet hasn’t spoken to us since it happened, we don’t know who else she might have told. Same for Ryan. If any of us end up under suspicion, it only takes one of us to slip up … or give in.’

Nick understood his brother’s logic, but something inside him wanted to protest. I have to do something. Then the guilt hit him—guilt that he’d brushed his bloody nightmares aside. If he’d attempted to decipher their meaning, Kerra might still be safe.

‘Fine. So I should just go home for the night?’

‘I think it’s sensible. Let the police do their job.’

‘Yeah … because they were so successful in finding Mum.’

Tom ignored the cynical comment. Nick had never felt so useless, so powerless. Even in his depression, he’d known somewhere in the back of his mind he could do something to improve his life, if only he could find the motivation. But right now, there was nothing he could do to help Kerra.

His brother’s worry about Aldrich’s murder got him thinking. Tom didn’t know half of what had transpired at Grendel Manor, yet he was being more cautious than Nick.

He doesn’t know about the children or the gloopy pool of light, and neither does Tommy … Back when Nick had questioned Aldrich about his mother, the murderer admitted to being responsible for the disappearances of many children on Lansin Island across the years—Aldrich had sent them through a portal, believing them to be sacrifices to Moloch.

On the manor’s land, Juliet had located this supernatural doorway and led Nick to it, leaving Tom and Tommy to watch over Aldrich. Something on the other side, or maybe even the portal itself, communicated telepathically with Nick, referring to him as ‘Oracle’ and claiming the Otherworld was through the lustrous gateway. Before Nick could find out more, though, he heard a shout, and the portal exploded as he and Juliet ran towards the yelling.

Nicolas had made a promise to himself that night: If he ever found another way to the Otherworld, he would try to discover the fate of the missing children.

‘Nick.’ Tom got his attention. ‘It’s this way, isn’t it?’

‘Yeah.’ In distress, he gave a shake of his head, unsure of what he’d just been thinking about.

They arrived at West Edge Country House and saw from a distance that an area of the front garden had been sectioned off, a gravel parking space that led around the side of the hotel. Tom pulled over and explained to an officer out the front that Nick was collecting his car. Tom was asked to stay parked off the property while Nick got out and collected his vehicle.

Nick said goodbye to his brother as he got out, but Tom said he’d wait and follow him back to Amiton. He doesn’t trust me to go home.

The officer watched Nick. The front door to the hotel was closed now, but lights were still on inside. Nick imagined a forensic team at work, looking for fingerprints, shoe prints, DNA, and examining blood spatter. He cringed. As he walked to his car, he fought an urge to go and peer through a window of the hotel, or look down the gravelled side path to see where Kerra might have been taken, assuming whoever took her escaped through the window.

I need to know more! But the policeman still eyed him suspiciously. He reluctantly got in his car and drove back to Amiton. His brother followed him all the way to number sixteen Maw Street, and before Nick knew it, they were both inside his home.

Hungry, he forced himself to eat a Morrisons own brand chocolate bar. The idea of sleep was ludicrous. Tom comforted his older brother a while, then went to his bedroom, but Nick paced around the house for a long time.

It was odd how he noticed the absence of things that wouldn’t usually be present at this time of night anyway. He missed Kerra’s singing, her humming. He missed the sound of her footsteps. He missed her complaining about the food he kept in the house. Nicky … how can I keep good vocal health with all these dairy products staring at me? And fizzy drinks!

He moped to his bedroom. Crumpled on the floor was a bright pink hoody belonging to Kerra. He picked it up and held it to his face, taking in her familiar fragrance. Sleep just wasn’t going to happen yet, so he dragged himself to the snug and sat down on the beanbag. He repeatedly checked his mobile, ensuring the volume was up in case the police called. His eyes lingered on the picture of Kerra each time. Until he thought of the blood.

Should I tell anybody what’s happened yet? He decided against informing others until after he’d spoken with the authorities again. Hopefully Kerra would be found before he needed to tell anyone. But his mind went ahead and imagined Kerra’s family being disturbed tonight by the news. The thought of it drained his energy.

In a daze, he stared out the window to his front garden. The dark called to him, creeping him out. He got up and grabbed the curtains, but as he did, he sensed he was being watched. Looking into blackness, he waited. It was tough to see anything at all, but as far as he could tell there was no movement. Shaking his head, he pulled the curtains together and relaxed a little.

At one point in the night, he came over determined to go out and search for Kerra. After dressing warmly and forcing on his shoes, he made a move to exit the house, but Tom emerged from his room and stopped him with the same persuasive points as before.

Begrudgingly, he returned to the snug. He seriously contemplated if Kerra going missing was somehow linked to what had happened on Aldrich’s land. He found no connection in his mind. He thought of people who disliked Kerra, and why they did, and if they hated her enough to harm her. No motives seemed strong enough.

In the end, he fell asleep on the beanbag from pure exhaustion.

CHAPTER FOUR

JULIET’S PHONE RANG in her pocket. She took it out and answered to the sound of a crackly line. ‘Hello?’

‘Juliet! Eeeeeeee!’ Kim squealed through the interference.

‘Kim, how are you?’ Juliet went to sit in the downstairs living room while she talked. After breakfast, Lillian had gone to tidy upstairs, and she’d been up there a couple of hours already.

‘I. Am. Having. The. Time. Of. My. Life!’ Kim giggled to herself. ‘The weather’s gorgeous; it’s been in the thirties almost every day, and with my dark hair and brown eyes, I’m looking a bit Greek myself.’ She laughed in her squeaky voice. ‘Ryan’s having to apply lots of sun cream though. His skin was blistering a couple of days ago, and now it’s all peeling.’ Juliet tried to imagine Ryan Fraser sunbathing. He was pale, with crooked teeth and ginger hair, and his face was covered in blemishes.

The thought of him made her skin tighten and prickle all over. Back in early December of last year, Kim announced that Ryan had inherited a large sum of money from a recently deceased relative he’d never heard of. Knowing of Ryan’s twisted deeds, Juliet became afraid Kim would quit her job and spend even more time with the murderer. But to keep everyone safe, she had to honour her agreement with Ryan, and so she kept the truth from Kim. She acted pleased for her best friend, and she still hated herself for it.

‘Bless him,’ Juliet replied, unable to muster any nicer words. ‘How are you two getting on?’

‘Yeah … we’re good. I don’t know. He’s a bit restless lately, and distant … like he seems to think a lot inside his head, but he doesn’t share it with me … but maybe he’s still just adjusting to not having a job.’

Since ‘inheriting’ the money, Ryan had told Kim that he quit his job as a support worker for vulnerable adults. Kim hadn’t left her position at Ethereal Cuts, a hair salon in Etherby, the town she lived in, but she had dropped her hours. It was a relief to see that Kim wasn’t being completely reckless; Juliet knew how easily money could be blown, if mismanaged. And even though Kim was on her second holiday this year, she was keeping to strict budgets, and she deserved the vacations. Etherby was the poorest town on Lansin Island, and when Kim was little, her parents never had the money to take her away. After Juliet’s parents had won the UK National Lottery jackpot in 1994, Juliet asked them to bring Kim on their next holiday. They gave their assent readily, eager to show off their wealth. Looking back on it, Juliet felt sorry for Kim’s parents. They’d probably always wanted to treat their daughter to a luxurious vacation, and then Mr and Mrs Maystone went ahead and did it for them, as if the sum were negligible and not the difference, for some families, between affording rent and being kicked out onto the streets.

‘Yes, that’s probably it,’ Juliet reassured her. Ouch! Her eyes flicked down. She saw red lines on her palm; she’d dug her nails into the skin. Anger, guilt, anxiety: all consequences of endangering her best friend.

Telling the truth would be a surer way to endanger her, though.

‘How are things with you? The café going good?’

‘Everything’s fine. Roy and Sandra are doing a great job of running it while I spend some time with Gran.’ Juliet didn’t want to tell Kim about Austin until it developed into something more. If she told her about him now, Kim would want to know Every. Single. Detail.

‘Tell Lil I said hi!’ Kim squeaked excitedly.

‘I will.’

‘Have you spoken to your mum and dad yet?’

Juliet paused. ‘No. They haven’t contacted me since my blunt reply at Christmas.’

‘I still can’t believe it. You know, I remember your gran from when we were little. Your parents didn’t just kick Lil out of your life. They took her from me too!’ She giggled. ‘It all feels a bit Eastenders-ish. Her coming back after so many years.’

Juliet knew Kim well enough to imagine her mannerisms on the other end of the line. Right now she’d be shaking her head, jaw dropped, the sun on her face.

‘I don’t know what I’ll say to Mum and Dad when they find out Gran’s back.’

Kim replied instantly. ‘I’d give them hell.’ The crackle on the line became louder for a second, maybe in agreement.

‘I don’t know if I can.’

‘You can.’

Juliet huffed.

‘You can, Juliet! Sometimes I don’t get you. You’ve always been confident when it comes to work, and study, and talking to people, and you can stick up for yourself when you know you’re right. But not when it’s your parents. When it’s them, you won’t even make a squeak.’

There was an obvious silence while Juliet tried not to laugh.

‘Oi!’ Kim whined. ‘I don’t have to see you to know what face you’re pulling. Leave my voice out of this. And see! You’re avoiding talking about it now; you’re making fun of me instead of facing the problem. You need to stand up to them.’

‘I know I do,’ Juliet said seriously. ‘But my parents aren’t like yours. You can be frank with yours. I can’t with mine.’

‘Have you tried it?’

The energy to answer was simply not there. She sighed instead.

‘Fine. I’ll drop it. Ah!’ Kim squealed. ‘Time’s about to run out on this phone.’

‘Okay. Well, keep having a lovely time. And take care of yourself.’ She thought of Ryan, and a shotgun.

‘Juliet, I have something to tell you when I get back,’ Kim said fast.

That psycho hasn’t got you pregnant, has he? ‘Okay. Love you, bye.’

‘I can’t wait to tell you! Eeeeeeeeee! Love you lots!’ The line went dead.

Biting her lower lip and scrunching up her face, Juliet thought back to the last time she’d properly seen Kim. It had been after getting back from London. Juliet had gone away for her birthday much to Kim’s dismay, so when she returned, her best friend insisted on the two of them spending a day together to exchange Christmas gifts, get drunk, and make use of Juliet’s hot tub.

Thinking about it now, it seemed to Juliet that Kim had been hiding something back then. But Juliet had been under too much stress at the time, and Kim had gone on and on in excitement about her newly acquired sum of money, so Juliet hadn’t pressed the matter. I should have asked.

Bitterness towards her parents cropped up. She hated how every time she thought of them, all the details seemed to play through her mind in order, like a terrible movie she was being forced to watch …

Her mother, Evelyn Maystone, had banished Lillian from their lives over twelve years ago, telling Juliet that her gran was dead. Apparently Evelyn had only done it because of a fierce row she’d had with Lillian concerning Juliet’s neglectful upbringing. It was only last November when Juliet discovered the truth.

Her parents didn’t yet know that Lillian was back in their daughter’s life.

Should I talk to them about it? In moments of less anger, she reasoned that her parents deserved a chance to explain themselves. But those moments were rare.

The last time she’d communicated with them was by text. On the 18th of December, when Juliet had been in London with her gran, a message appeared on her mobile phone:

HAPPY BDAY SWEETIE!

u’ve not rang or txt in a while. we’ve guessed ur not comin 2 c us this yr? let us kno what prezzies u’d lyk 4 ur bday & Xmas. lv mum & dad. xoxoxoxox

Juliet hadn’t replied. The message was obviously typed by her mum, with minimal input from her dad. Then, on Christmas Day, back in Chanton, her mobile lit up again:

MERRY XMAS!

sweetie, we’ll hav 2 get ur prezzies l8 this yr, wen u hav tym 2 rply.

lts of lv! m & d xoxoxox

No longer in denial about her parents’ indifference towards her, she noticed how her mother’s rushed texts exemplified the little time Evelyn spared for her daughter. With clenched teeth, Juliet had tapped out:

Merry Christmas. Sorry, been busy. Talk soon. X

Unsurprisingly to Juliet, her parents had not been in touch since. Even on Mother’s Day, when Juliet had purposefully made zero effort, no contact came from her mum or dad. It was concerning. But not enough to make her pick up the phone.

Forget about it, she told herself, getting up from the sofa and walking to the bottom of the stairs. ‘Gran?’ She spoke with a clear voice that carried well. ‘I’m going to make a fruit salad for lunch. I’ll call you again when it’s done, okay?’

‘Okay, sweetheart,’ Lillian replied in the half-attentive tone her gran used while doing house chores.

In the kitchen, Juliet prepared a honey-mint dressing to go with the salad, and then began to wash and cut the fruit. After slicing a kiwi in half, she stopped and gazed at how alien the inside of it looked, her thoughts drifting to the portal and bobbing fairy-like light. As her mind began to overwhelm itself with questions (What was that thing in Aldrich’s woods? What other beings could exist? Things from mythology, fantasy books … nightmares? I spoke with the portal, or something on the other side … I gave it my name. Are there other people with supernatural abilities living in this world? What about the Spiritworld? The Otherworld? Besides those two and this one, do other worlds exist?). She shook herself and said aloud, but quietly, ‘Don’t think of those things.’

When she moved on to the strawberries, she managed to shift her thoughts to something that made her warm and anxious all over—in a good way. Well, more someone than something. Austin. He’d looked so good on their last date, so good that Juliet’s thoughts turned a little libidinous during the meal. It had been a long time since she’d been with someone ...

Juliet parted a strawberry down the middle, her eyes lingering on the colour. Juice ran onto the cutting board. She swallowed, visualising how Austin’s top two shirt buttons had been undone. Now the next strawberry. Her palms became moist, her fingers losing tension. She closed her eyes indulgently for a moment. Then they shot open.

‘Ouch!’ she gasped. The knife had slipped, parting the flesh of her index finger, which began to bleed. ‘Dammit.’ She hurried to the sink and ran the cut under water, but the bleeding continued. She grabbed a clean towel from a nearby cupboard and applied pressure to the wound while holding her hand above her head. After a short while she was able to gently wash it and apply a plaster without drawing more blood.

Peering over at the cutting board, she sighed; blood mixed with some of the fruit. She was about to clean it up and continue preparing the salad when there was a sharp rap at the front door. She wasn’t expecting visitors, so she anxiously hurried towards the entrance of her home. ‘I’ll get it,’ she called up to Lillian on the way, and tried to ignore how the throb in her bandaged finger intensified with the speed of her gait.

She pushed down the handle, the door glided open, and her ears were immediately assaulted by a sturdy woman shrieking, ‘Hola, sweeeeeetiee!’

Standing slightly behind the woman was an extremely tanned man.

Juliet almost gaped at her mum and dad. Her skin tingled apprehensively. She considered slamming the door shut in their faces, but in her mother’s presence, her self-assurance diminished.

‘Now, Juliet, sweetie. It appears that you’ve been ignawwwhring your father and I. We have been forced to fly aaallll the way out here to see you.’ Her eyebrows lifted so high they threatened to take off. ‘You are going to let us in, aren’t you?’

‘Yes,’ Juliet answered, as stunned as she felt.

‘Oh, goodie!’ Mrs Maystone hurried inside and beckoned her husband with a flick of her wrist. She headed into the downstairs living room while Juliet closed the door behind her father. ‘We can see how you’ve been taking care of The Haaayven.’ Juliet’s mother had named the house The Haven back when she’d owned it, thinking the title classy.

Evelyn Maystone had on a shaggy fur coat, and a red Mulberry Del Rey handbag dangled from her inner elbow, her arm posed as if balancing an invisible tray. She exaggerated a shiver. ‘Oh, it is freeeeezing in this country. Isn’t it, Adam?’ She widened her eyes at her husband.

‘Yes, dear,’ Adam Maystone replied in an automated manner, his voice humdrum.

Go back to Spain, then, Juliet thought, well aware her home was comfortably heated. How her mother wasn’t sweating in that coat, she didn’t know.

‘Hello, love,’ Adam said to his daughter. Juliet suddenly realised she wasn’t so annoyed with her father. He was subservient when it came to his wife, because disobeying Evelyn was more hassle than it was worth. He was a short man with a face turned orangey-brown from overexposure to the sun, and he had hair that would naturally have been grey had his wife not coerced him into regularly colouring it dark. A few stubborn white wisps still poked through in places, especially around his ears.

‘Hi, Dad.’ Juliet went to hug him, but stopped when her mother spoke.

‘Adam! Are you forgetting that our daughter has barely spoken to us for months?’

Adam straightened his back, opened his mouth as if to say something, then shut it. Juliet turned to her mother and waited.

‘Well, Juliet? Do you care to explain?’ Evelyn put a hand to her hip and tilted her head. ‘I would have thought you’d at least call me on Mother’s Day.’

‘I, uh’—found out about your viscous lies—‘I’ve just been busy.’ Her heart sank.

‘Busy?’ Evelyn made a sound like she was throwing up air. ‘You’re never toooo busy to come visit us, sweetie. You’ve managed it every other year! Why not this—wait, where are the photos of your daddy and I? You used to have them up here.’ She pointed at the mantelshelf. ‘And that smell … what is that smell? Perfume?’ She blinked excessively, perking her posture. ‘Adam, you recognise it, right? It’s soooo familiar.’ And then it dawned on her. A horrified expression painted Evelyn’s face, an expression Juliet never wanted to see again.

Lillian came downstairs, stepping proudly but cautiously, and entered the large living room. ‘Hello, Evelyn,’ she said. ‘Adam.’ She nodded.

Evelyn’s chest puffed up, her face reddening. She shouted, ‘What are you doing here?’

‘My granddaughter asked me to live with her.’

‘In my house?’

‘Your house?’ Lillian scoffed casually, and widened her eyes a little. ‘Don’t you mean Juliet’s?’

Juliet was surprised at her gran’s composure, especially in comparison to her mother’s. Evelyn breathed heavier and her skin flamed redder by the second.

‘Evelyn,’ Lillian said, when her daughter didn’t answer, ‘why did you tell my granddaughter that I had died?’

Evelyn kept her eyes fixed away from her mother, as if Lillian didn’t deserve her full attention. ‘My name is pronounced Eeeeeevlin, not Ev-uh-lin, you stupid old woman!’

‘Mum!’ Juliet finally spoke up. ‘Don’t talk to her like that.’

The horrible look of shock Juliet had never wanted to see again was topped by Evelyn’s new expression. Her jaw dropped while her eyebrows collided in utter disbelief at her daughter’s effrontery.

‘I’ll talk to her however I like.’

‘Not in my house, you won’t.’ Juliet’s blood rushed. ‘And I’d like an answer to Gran’s question. Why did you tell me she was dead?’

Mrs Maystone turned away, now apparently unable to look at her daughter either. After some jerky head movements, Evelyn swiftly raised her chin, finally giving her eyes to Lillian. They were cold, hard. She stormed over to her and pointed with the hand that had been posed as if carrying a tray. ‘This is your doing! You’ve turned her against us!’

Juliet became so afraid her mother would strike Lillian that she hurried to intercept her. ‘She didn’t turn me against you.’ Her fast movement seemed to rush energy into every inch of her body. ‘All she did was reveal your lies. She’s been a better mother to me these past months than you’ve ever been.’ A frisson came over her as she confronted her mother; she held on to its momentum. You can, she heard Kim say in her mind. ‘I’m just an idea to you, something you throw money at when it suits you, when you want me to play happy daughter! At least Gran treats me like a person. At least she cares.’

‘Fine!’ Evelyn bellowed. ‘Do you want me to take it all away? Kick you out of this house? Take back the café?’

Her mouth falling slack, Juliet took a moment to respond. ‘Are you being serious?’ She was almost at a loss for words. But words certainly needed saying; her mind clambered to find the right ones. ‘This house is mine. The café is mine. You own no rights to either of them. Even now you can’t see me as an adult.’ Realising her words would damage her mother’s pride, and not wanting to face the guilt, she hurried to say, ‘Get out of my house.’

It seemed Evelyn had run out of shocked expressions. She avoided eye contact, pursed her lips, and shook herself before heading for the front door. A flick of her hand, and Adam followed. He gave a regretful smile to Juliet on his way, which she reciprocated.

Juliet followed them, then overtook her mother to grab the door handle. She let them out. Before leaving, Evelyn looked her daughter in the eyes and let out a low and lengthened sigh. Her cheeks were glaring red. In a soft tone Juliet had never heard from her mother, Mrs Maystone said, ‘Well … I’m glad Lillian’s the perfect mother for you.’

They left. Juliet stood for a moment, her eyes narrowed, her posture collapsed. Shuffles came from behind her as she closed the door and turned to gather her thoughts.

‘Are you okay, sweetheart?’ asked Lillian.

‘Yes,’ her voice came out quiet. I think so.

Lillian put a hand on her granddaughter’s shoulder. ‘You might not care, but your mother’s name is pronounced Eh-vuh-lin, the usual way, the way her father had wanted it.’ She nodded to herself. ‘But somehow after he died, your mother got it in her head that I had chosen the pronunciation. So she changed it to her nonstandard way.’

‘Well,’ Juliet picked up her voice, straightening her spine and pushing aside her confusion, ‘I believe I’m starting to realise just what my mother’s really like.’

CHAPTER FIVE

KNOCK-KNOCK. ‘UNGH?’

‘Are you okay, Nick?’ Tom entered the snug. ‘Did you sleep in here?’

Light was at the edge of the curtains, but Nick had little awareness of the time and felt as if he hadn’t slept at all. His head ached heavily. ‘I think I fell asleep.’

Memories of the night before swiftly took him. Kerra … His heart ached.

‘I’ll make you breakfast,’ said Tom, and the effort squeezed Nick’s heart in a more pleasant way. ‘Maybe you should get showered and ready, in case you need to go to the station.’

‘Thank you.’ As his brother was about to walk off, Nick said, ‘Tom. I’m sorry I complained about Michael staying over the other night …’

Tom smiled. ‘No, really, I should have let you know. Sorry I tried to turn it around on you. I’ve just been feeling a bit … annoyed lately.’

Nick was about to say that he understood, but Tom quickly finished with, ‘Anyway, that doesn’t matter right now,’ and he hurried off to the kitchen.

While he showered, Nick was careful not to reopen the scab above his ear. The heat of the water was cosy and made him wish he’d had a full night’s rest. He struggled staying awake, even standing up. Kerra should be here, showering with me. He got out and dried himself, then pulled on thin socks, dark skinny jeans, and fumbled into a plain purple tee-shirt. His phone rang as he headed to the kitchen, smelling fried food. He answered swiftly.

‘Hello?’

‘Hello. Am I speaking with Mr Nicolas Crystan?’ asked a slightly nasal male voice.

‘Yeah. That’s me.’

‘This is Detective Inspector Anish Talwar. I believe you were questioned yesterday evening by Detective Constable Roughton. I’ve spoken with her, read the reports, and I’m now in charge of the investigation. I need you to come to Glaith Lane Police Station for further questioning regarding the incident at West Edge Country House.’

‘When should I come in?’

‘As soon as possible.’ There was a pause. ‘Make it on the hour. Nine o’clock?’

Is it that early? He looked up at the kitchen clock. It was twenty past eight. ‘Okay.’

‘Thank you, Mr Crystan. I’ll see you on the hour.’ The detective hung up.

Tom had cooked bacon and sausages, heated a tin of beans, and fried some eggs. Nick sat down with his brother and hurried down as much food as he could comfortably handle. They ate in silence, and Nick didn’t blame Tom for having no words to say.

At quarter to nine, he grabbed his keys from the kitchen worktop, then looked for his least tatty pair of winklepickers. ‘Are you going to tell Dad anything yet? Or Tommy?’ asked Tom.

‘No.’ Nick shook his head as he slipped on his shoes. ‘And please don’t tell anyone. I’m hardly keeping it together myself ... I can’t handle anyone else’s input right now. I’ll talk to Dad after I’m done at the station … or later tonight.’

Tom gave a respectful nod. ‘I won’t say anything.’

Nick sat down across from the new detective in the same interview room as before. It turned out Detective Inspector Talwar was of Indian descent, though the only accent he had was the slight bumpkinish twang common to most Lansin Islanders, suggesting he was English and born on the island. He looked about forty and was ruggedly handsome. Short dark hair and stubble, both a rich brown, almost black. Pale tan skin with faded acne scars on his upper cheeks. Full eyebrows. A tight set of teeth, free of unsightly gaps. Prominent jaw. And he wore a smart charcoal-grey suit with a striped tie.

The interview started with nearly identical questions to the night before. After Nick repeated a lot of information he’d already given, the questions became edgier. But most were answered in the negative: ‘Do you know of anyone who might want to harm Miss Evans?’ ‘Do you think Miss Evans was keeping secrets from you?’ ‘Could she have been involved in drugs, gang crime?’ and so on.

Nick was taken off guard when Talwar changed direction. ‘What is your relationship with Miss Evans like?’

‘It was going well ...’ Nick made it obvious in his tone that he thought the question irrelevant.

‘Was going well?’ said Talwar. His voice was high for a man’s and became nasal towards the end of each sentence, either from tension or habit.

The Detective’s little trick riled him. ‘Is going well, was going well, whatever; you know what I mean, so please don’t try to change what I’m saying. And in case you hadn’t noticed, she is missing. Hence the was going well.’ He sighed, but his heart beat fast; he was surprised by his own confidence. He made an effort to calm back down. ‘She had just told me she loves me, and I was going to say it back to her when I returned.’

‘Do you love her?’

‘I think so, yes.’ He frowned. ‘I don’t see how this is relevant.’ Crossing his arms, he let his body language show how closed off he was towards the line of enquiry.

‘I’m just trying to get a bigger picture here, Mr Crystan.’

‘You should be trying to find her, and whoever has actually taken her.’

Detective Talwar said nothing. He sat up in his chair and adjusted his suit. Nick mumbled, ‘I don’t understand why you’re asking some of these questions. I told Detective Roughton most of this last night. Wouldn’t you be put to better use actually going out and looking for Kerra?’

‘There’s been a change in the case, Mr Crystan. I have some news that may be hard for you to hear.’

Nick’s senses piqued. ‘What is it?’

Talwar took in a deep breath. ‘We’ve identified the blood from the hotel room. It belongs to Miss Evans. From the amount there was, it’s extremely unlikely she could have survived the loss of blood, unless whoever took her treated her immediately and had the facilities to do so.’

Unable to bear the news, Nick’s mind slipped away. It took a long moment to pick itself up and process the information. His thoughts kept trying to offer comfort: Maybe they treated her, maybe it wasn’t all her blood, maybe she could handle that amount of blood loss, she must be alive, she must.

The detective’s questions made sense now; the case was being treated more as a murder enquiry than a missing person investigation. It hit him hard then: They’d already given up on finding her alive.

Tears came to his eyes before he could stop them. He hurried to hide his face. He’d wanted so badly to hold it together. For Kerra. But this was too much.

Detective Inspector Talwar remained silent at first, while Nick sniffled and tried to compose himself. But Talwar was ruthless … ‘Did Miss Evans ever cheat on you?’

A sharp twist came in Nick’s chest. He remembered the night he’d caught Kerra and Alex, and now he worried that Kerra’s past actions gave him a motive. Would he be arrested mid-interview? Should he stop answering questions and say he needed a lawyer?

I’m not guilty; I don’t need someone else to prove that for me. Reluctant to answer, he sucked up his pride and pain. ‘She cheated on me over six years ago, in our past relationship. And after that, cheated on me again, and eventually we broke up. I got back with her because Janet Morgan, a colleague of mine, set us up. She said Kerra regretted what she’d done and wanted to see me.’

Talwar seemed thoughtful. ‘Are you still angry at Miss Evans for betraying you?’

‘No. I wouldn’t have got back with her if I hadn’t moved past it.’ He tried to sound calm and reasonable, but his jaw was tense. Dead … She might actually be dead. He squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them.

‘Did you make plans for someone else to take Miss Evans while you went to the shops, ensuring you had witnesses to confirm your alibi?’

Nick gave the detective a long, cold stare. ‘No.’

‘Your mother, Samantha Crystan, was reported missing nine years ago. She’s never been found.’ Talwar looked almost impressed with himself; he’d intended for his statement to gain a reaction.

Nick answered, ‘I am aware of that,’ and then forced his lips together. Don’t antagonise him. It’s not worth it.

‘It’s quite the coincidence. And very unfortunate. Do you think what’s happened to Miss Evans is connected to the disappearance of your mother?’

Then Nick’s thoughts ran rampant. Tom had asked the same question. Now the death of Aldrich was at the front of his mind. He panicked. Then panicked some more when he remembered his brother’s words: They are trained to read body language, mannerisms, your facial expressions … Surely Talwar was picking up on his anxiety. ‘I don’t know,’ he finally answered.

The detective seemed stumped, and Nick hoped they’d reached an impasse.

They hadn’t.

Talwar began repeating questions, rewording them to the point that Nick felt confused, but Nick tried hard to keep his answers congruent. Eventually Talwar stopped the interview and informed Nick that witnesses confirmed his whereabouts at the time of the incident, and also that he was captured on CCTV footage from out the front of the Tesco Express store in Beade.

Then it clicked; there was no strong evidence against him. He began to feel wary of the detective.

After Nick was led out of the room, Talwar said to him, ‘Mr Crystan.’ He squinted, his lightly scarred skin creasing under his eyes. ‘You might not be guilty of this. But you are guilty of something.’ There was a hunger in his stare.

Trying to appear unaffected, Nick held eye contact and heightened his awareness of his facial expressions. Maybe he twitched, or flared his nostrils, or held his breath, or blinked too much … or too little; maybe he somehow confirmed the detective’s suspicions, but at the same time, he was certain Talwar had acted unprofessionally by voicing his opinion while no longer in the presence of the recorder.

Something inside Nick reminded him there was a more important issue to devote his emotions to, and then he ceased to care about the detective’s not-so-subtle threat. ‘Just find Kerra,’ he said, and was soon out of the police station.

It was like déjà vu, this scenario so similar to the night before, only it was dark then. And there was more hope then.

Nick had managed to convert most of his grief into anger. He punched the air on the way to his car. When he got in, he sat stunned for half an hour.

She can’t be dead. He started the vehicle up and drove home. It wasn’t even eleven o’clock yet, even though the questioning had seemed to take hours. Tom was about the house still, so Nick described the interview to his brother. He quickly tired, though. His head swam; he wondered if he’d faint.

Tom was thoughtfully taciturn when Nick revealed that Kerra had lost too much blood. He comforted his older brother by silently listening, allowing Nick to grieve in his own way. After a while, though, Tom said, ‘She might still be alive. Wait until the police know more.’

When Nick stumbled and nearly fell, Tom suggested he get some sleep; there was nothing he could do until the police got in contact again. Too weary to argue, Nick found himself in bed. He missed Kerra instantly. While he rubbed the sheets on Kerra’s side, imagining her lying there, knowing she’d touched the fabric, deluding himself into believing that stroking the sheets somehow connected them, he fell asleep.

He awoke to the vibration of his phone. He wasn’t sure how it had ended up on ‘silent,’ since he’d set it to ‘loud’ in case the detective rang, but here it was, only vibrating. With speed, he picked it up and saw the name ‘Fin’ on the screen. He briefly considered ignoring it, before answering with a croaky, ‘Hello?’

‘Hey, buddy! How’re you doing?’ Fintan’s cheery voice came through.

An answer refused to come to Nick’s mind.

‘Nick? Can you hear me, man?’

‘Yeah, sorry. Caught me at a bad time.’

‘Oh.’ Fintan’s tone turned gloomy. ‘I was gonna see what you’re up to. You want me to come over, hang out for a bit?’

For a thoughtful moment, Nick closed his eyes. I need to start telling people at some point. ‘Yeah ...’ He figured his best friend would be a good place to start. ‘But, Fin ...’

‘Yeah, buddy?’

‘Something serious has happened. I’ll tell you when you get here. I’m just warning you ... don’t be expecting a party or anything.’

‘Erm. Okay.’ Fin was a confident man, but right now his voice was laced with uncertainty. ‘I’ll … head over. See you soon, mate.’

Nick hung up, unable to say goodbye.

It was late afternoon. He’d slept a long time. Before Fin arrived, Nick ate a microwave meal and spoke with Tom, assuring his brother he’d tell their dad everything the next morning, if not this evening.

Fin showed up at quarter to six, and Nick let him in and led him to the snug. They sat down on an old sofa Nick had rescued from his dad, who’d planned on throwing it away. Tom was at home somewhere, most likely in his bedroom.

‘Jesus, Nick. You look rough. Are you alright?’ Fin had appropriate concern in his voice. He was as tall as Nick, blonde-haired, well toned, and wore all designer clothes. A while ago he’d completed a big contract in his work as a garden designer, coming up with balcony garden layouts for fancy London apartments, and he was still coasting off of that money. He was charismatic, and Nick had joked with him before about his looks, asking if his face magically re-sculpted itself based on each woman’s inner desires, seeing as so many women found him attractive. And, awkwardly, so did Nick’s brother Tom, who had made plenty of inappropriate comments about Fin, since coming out.

Nick told his best friend the whole story of the night before. They’d known each other since lower school, and although it had been harder to spend time together as they grew up, their closeness showed in how easily Nick spoke to Fin, and how natural Fin’s responses were.

‘What are you going to do?’ Fin seemed pretty shaken up. He’d known Kerra for as long as Nick had; they’d all attended the same upper school.

‘I don’t know what I can do except wait.’

‘Hmmm …’

‘I’ve never felt so useless,’ Nick admitted. ‘Another thing tormenting me is that I’d had nightmares of blood … and drowning … and shouting someone’s name. Do you remember I told you about them?’ He hung his head, shook it. ‘I ignored those dreams, when I could have done someth—’ His throat closed up.

Fin leaned closer and put a strong hand on Nick’s shoulder.

Six months ago, Nick had told his best friend about his ability to see the future. He’d tried to sound serious, but Fin had laughed. Fin sobered up, though, when it became obvious Nick wasn’t joking. At first, his attitude was, ‘If you say you can see the future, then I believe that you believe that.’ Then, after Nick managed to bring on a vision where he accurately predicted Fin would bump into one of their old school friends, and then also predicted a few weeks later that Fin’s mobile would ring at a precise time, Fin’s attitude turned to, ‘Now you’re creeping me out a little.’ It had taken just one more foresight, involving a fairly serious incident, to push Fin’s outlook to, ‘Well, buddy, out of the two of us, you have always been the weirder one.’

He was a believer now.

Since the first time Nick had brought on a premonition in front of Juliet, the only other person he’d tried to force visions in front of was Fintan. Nobody else. Even though his ability had given him a sense of purpose to begin with, he’d finally begun enjoying a stable life; why risk losing that by forcing a vision he might have to act on, like foreseeing another death?

Now he wished he’d given his power more attention.

Fin touched Nick’s shoulder. ‘I don’t mind if you cry, buddy. Just let it out.’

‘I cried all the time when I was depressed. And not just over my mum going missing. Over anything, everything. I’d feel sad at least once a week, and I’d just cry. I think I found comfort in it, but I hated it, too. And now I should be crying over this. But I don’t completely want to. I’m afraid I’ll fall back into that pattern, just crying for the sake of it. How can I not be sad, though? I feel like a bad person whatever I do. If I just let myself get upset, then it’s like I’m saying she’s dead. If I don’t, then it’s as if I don’t care.’

‘Hey ...’ Fin said softly. ‘Nick, there’s nothing wrong with your feelings. Just let yourself feel however it is you feel. I know you’re not a bad person.’ He nodded to himself. ‘And I think you know that too. Whether you cry or not, it doesn’t mean you’ve given up, it doesn’t mean you don’t care. I know you’re hoping for the best, and I know you care.’ Fin rubbed the side of Nick’s upper arm.

‘I just feel pathetic.’

‘Nah.’ Fin shook his head, his styled blonde hair completely unaffected, and then leaned back in the sofa. ‘I designed a garden for this guy once. He acted like a proper tough man, told me he’d never cried in his whole life.’ He huffed. ‘Well, anyway, he was a real cold man ... I couldn’t get to like him at all, and even his wife and kids were distant from him. I never saw his little’uns run up to hug him hello, I never saw his wife smile at him or kiss him, or anything like that. You know? I think he was a coward. Afraid to care. Like, if you can’t even face your own feelings, then how could you care about anyone else’s? And if you don’t care about anyone else’s, then do you really care about those people at all? Not caring means having nothing to lose. Dude was a coward. Nothing like you, man.’

Nick mulled over his friend’s kind words. Finally giving his emotions due attention, he figured out he didn’t want to cry because he didn’t believe Kerra was dead. He’d thought bawling his eyes out was expected of him, and maybe he’d subconsciously tried to force that response. ‘I think I’m okay. I just hate waiting, not knowing.’

‘Why don’t you use your ability?’ Fin asked in a hushed voice, aware Tom was oblivious to Nick’s psychic power.

A light bulb might as well have pinged on above Nick’s head.

Fin observed his friend’s response and added, ‘You must be able to direct your visions; like when you showed me, you didn’t just see random things, you saw stuff relating directly to my life. So maybe if you focus on Kerra …’ He trailed off.

It was true; Nick had found a new layer to his ability when he proved his power to Fin. He’d seen events from a perspective that wasn’t his own, but a kind of third person instead, like a god watching over.

His lips compressed. He nodded, determined.

With closed eyes, he imagined himself as a tree. This was how it had worked before. Roots and branches stretching outward, passing through physical objects and entwining with the universe, connecting to everything. Nick slumped his shoulders, breathed slowly, and further weaved his mind into the fabric of the world. He visualised the branches reaching out to Kerra.

In an enormous room with grey walls and a shiny floor, he walked cautiously. He sensed something was off, but the reasons why were out of reach. He was looking up at metal beams across the ceiling, and square patches where it seemed lighting should have been switched on. It was dingy.

He looked down slowly, and there she was. Approaching him.

She still wore her bright green jacket, but it was muddy, and her red-and-white polka dot blouse, but that was bloody, and her black skinny jeans, torn, and only one lime Ugg boot remained on her left foot. A new item of clothing was present: a big black scarf wrapped around her neck.

She hastily limped towards him, her face pale and slack. She looked so ill, and her eyes had a hollow stare. He ran towards her and stretched out his arms; Kerra extended hers too.

They were about to embrace …

‘Kerra!’ His eyes shot open. With his head hanging low, he panted. His thoughts swam to figure out where he was, what he’d seen, what it meant. He looked up at Fin.

‘She’s alive.’

CHAPTER SIX

AUSTIN’S CHOCALTE EYES were fixed on Juliet when she turned to look at him in the pedal boat. This was their third date. He had a large nose, ridged halfway down, and a bony face that would have suited glasses. His lips were full, as if inflamed, and of a deep reddish-purple colour that stood out against his pallid complexion. Little ears poked out of short-but-unruly black hair.

To Juliet, he was a handsome geek.

‘I know this is odd to point out, but your eyes look so healthy,’ she said, admiring how the whites of his eyes were so white.

Austin laughed, a sudden and unique sound. If there was a social norm when it came to laughing, his quick burst of mirth deviated from it. ‘So do yours,’ he squeezed out in response, struggling through amusement.

‘Do you work out? Eat healthy?’

‘Nope.’ He elongated the ‘n’ in ‘nope,’ and at the end of the word he made a pop sound with his lips, then cheesily grinned. His teeth were long, thin rectangles, whiter than white.

‘You look like you do.’

He laughed again. ‘Is this your attempt at flirting?’ He raised his eyebrows, and his pouty lips quirked.

Juliet didn’t answer at first. I don’t know! I’ve never flirted with anyone before... have I? She’d had one long-term relationship that was devoid of emotional attachment (at least on her part), and she’d only lost her virginity because she thought she should have by that age. She hadn’t felt the urges she experienced now. ‘Maybe it is.’ She mustered some confidence … and then some more. ‘Is it working?’

‘Hmmm. Remains to be seen,’ he teased.

A giddy buzz ran through Juliet. She tried to process the reasons she found him so attractive. He was handsome in an unusual way, but that wasn’t ‘it’; all she kept coming back to was how betrayed she felt by her parents (as if that had anything to do with Austin). Her mum and dad hadn’t spoken to her since the argument, and she wasn’t sure if they would any time soon. They’d probably planned on staying at her house, as they usually did when visiting, but whether they were stopping in a hotel now or had jumped on a plane, she didn’t know.

Forget them. They should be the ones to make it up to me.

The pedalo Juliet and Austin were in was bright yellow. They’d stopped pedalling for a bit so they could talk while floating calmly over Eradon Lake. There were many watersports and activities available at the lake—windsurfing, sailing, kayaking, canoeing—and as today was warm and settled, Austin had suggested a casual date of pedalling and enjoying the view. The perfect chance to talk and get to know each other.

‘Have you spoken with your sister yet?’ Juliet asked.

A soft wind tousled Austin’s black hair. He seemed taken aback by the question. ‘Oh. Uh, no, I haven’t. I’m still gathering research, you know? Then I’ll talk to her when I have all the ideas put together.’

Austin worked as a researcher for his sister, an interior designer who lived off island. A few weeks ago, Roy had called Juliet to say a man had come into Chanton Hillview café asking about the inspiration for the décor and requesting to meet the manager, or the person who’d designed it. Juliet’s staff may have put it all together, but she had been the one to pick the colour scheme, layout, and furniture. Although reluctant to leave her home, she agreed to come in and talk to the man.

And that’s where she first met Austin, in her own café. His confidence and individuality had intrigued her, and by the end of their meeting they’d exchanged numbers, under the pretext of further discussing interior design.

Within a week, they’d texted over a hundred messages to each other, and then Austin asked to see her again, but in Amiton this time. They met up at the bus station in the upper grounds, and because Austin had only arrived on Lansin Island two weeks before, he wanted to see all there was to see: the best places to eat, the historical sites, the beautiful buildings, all the tourist shops, and the local Pagan stores.

When showing him around, Juliet side-stepped Creaky Crystals, afraid to bump into Nicolas, but she was so unsubtle about it that Austin asked why she avoided the shop. ‘It’s just not one of the better ones,’ she had answered hastily. They finished off that day going to the cinema, and mutually decided they’d just been on a ‘date.’ The week after that, they had a meal together, which ended with a kiss goodbye. A kiss that had lingered.

Juliet continued, ‘Is your research going well so far?’

‘Yeah, I’ve found some good stuff. Like, I took a look at that café down from yours, at the other end of the high street ... erm, Cho-Ko Lounge? It’s a totally different feel from yours, but it gave me some awesome inspiration.’

Juliet frowned. ‘I see.’ Her tone was cold. ‘Consulting with my rivals already?’

‘Uhhh …’

She let him flounder for a bit longer, then said, ‘Relax, I’m joking.’ With a little smile, she shook her head. ‘The couple who own that place are lovely. And anyway, they cater to a different clientele.’ She pulled a face as if to say ‘So there!’ then laughed, grateful to be in a light mood.

‘Jeez, Juliet ... I thought that was it. I half expected you to push me in the lake, and pedal off.’ A laugh barked out of him. He gave her his eyes while they both grinned.

Juliet shocked herself with her reply: ‘You wouldn’t be able to make it up to me if I did that.’ She tried not to smile. What the hell am I doing? Throwing myself at him like this? She had no sympathy for the type of woman who was left ‘heartbroken’ after falling for any man who told her she had the bluest eyes he’d ever beheld … and then ditched her after sex. Unless that woman was Kim; Juliet had comforted her best friend in similar situations a few times in their late teens.

Austin grinned. He reached over the ridge in the middle of the boat and put a hand on Juliet’s knee. His eyes had a soft shine to them as they seemed to take in different parts of her body. His apparent desire frightened and excited her.

She’d been apprehensive about today. With a better handle over her ability, she wanted to prove to herself she could passively block out the spirits, but going to Eradon Lake was basically jumping in at the deep end. It was too close to The Burning Grounds, and while Juliet remained soulless, she would avoid that place like the plague. Seeing the spirits of sixteenth century ‘witches’ did not appeal to her, especially considering the horrific manner in which they had died. But so far, not a single disturbance had occurred: no sudden temperature shifts, no phantom voices, no twitches in the air.

‘Are you enjoying our date?’ asked Austin.

A fine mist hovered over the water. It made for a secluded feel, a romantic privacy. ‘I am.’ She put a hand on top of his.

‘Oh, you’ve hurt yourself.’ He nodded towards Juliet’s finger with the plaster on.

Juliet took her hand back. ‘I cut myself while making a salad.’ Remembering how her fantasies of Austin had distracted her and caused the little accident, she felt a warm rush come over her. Embarrassing.

‘Clumsy,’ Austin teased.

The cut didn’t hurt at all now, so she raised the finger close to her face to inspect it. When she touched the plaster, it fell away, the wind catching and carrying it out to the lake. Juliet tried to grab it, hating the thought of littering, but was too slow. The plaster landed gently in the water and bobbed farther away. ‘Dammit.’

‘Don’t worry,’ said Austin, ‘we’ll pedal over and get it in a minute. We don’t want a swan choking on it.’ He laughed.

Juliet would have laughed back, but she was too busy staring at her index finger. Where the cut had been there was only a fine line now, white and completely sealed.

‘Are you okay?’ asked Austin.

‘Huh?’

‘You seem away with the fairies or something.’

Juliet rubbed her thumb against the faint white scar. No soreness. ‘I’m fine. The cut just healed faster than I expected.’ She put her hand back on Austin’s and decided the next time she saw Tamara she’d talk to her about the supercharged healing.

In Austin’s company she felt less agoraphobic, and the absence of ghosts had returned a massive chunk of her confidence. Today, she had made the effort of leaving the house without wearing her long fur coat. I don’t need it.

Austin’s pale skin looked amazing in his surroundings; it was as if the white mist had settled on his face and the colour had been absorbed by his skin. His appearance reminded Juliet of the glamorous vampires idolised in contemporary popular culture (minus the fangs): flawless, sexy. Recently, she’d casually watched an episode of a TV series featuring vampires. She wasn’t usually intrigued by programs so heavy on the paranormal side (somewhat paradoxical, considering her ability), but she’d hurried to switch it off when one of the living dead used some kind of mind control on a human.

She still had nightmares over Aldrich Grendel.

‘Come, on. Let’s pedal some more.’ She retracted her hand and began to pedal. She noticed how Austin had just as much energy as her; no matter how fast her legs went, knees bobbing up and down, he easily kept up. Without either of them breaking a sweat, they continued for an hour or more.

At some point, they both pedalled so vigorously that Juliet’s leg slipped and made an ungraceful thud on the bottom of the boat, rocking it. Austin’s laugh was instant and loud, out of control. He even snorted. Juliet experienced a fit of giggles too.

‘I’m too fast!’ said Austin excitedly. ‘I’m like The Flash!’ His voice grew louder in his zest.

Still laughing, Juliet said, ‘You’re such a geek.’

‘No!’ he exclaimed suddenly, his voice angry. ‘I’m not.’

There was a silence; even the natural environment seemed to pause. Juliet sat there, nonplussed. Her heart rate had picked up. The feeling of seclusion wasn’t so romantic anymore.

‘Okay,’ she said, putting it clear across that she didn’t appreciate his tone. ‘I was only making a joke.’

Austin’s lower jaw jutted out. He huffed rhythmically for a few seconds, then after closing his eyes hard and reopening them, he pulled a jokey face that seemed to cleanse his distress. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you like that.’

Juliet admired him for apologising so promptly, and was willing to let it slip. Extra drama wasn’t on her wish list right now, though she did want an explanation. ‘It’s fine, but why did you get angry at me?’

He made a funny shape with his lips, then said, ‘It’s nothing, really. Like … it doesn’t really matter.’

Sure it doesn’t matter. ‘Okay. I don’t want to pry. It is only our third date …’ She tried to sound fair. ‘But at some point soon in the future, will you tell me how I upset you?’

He laughed in a reasonable way that showed his agreement before he had to voice it. ‘I promise.’

A large dismal cloud appeared above.

‘Looks like rain,’ said Austin, and his mouth took a downturn.

Juliet arched her neck to assess the sky. ‘Let’s head back, then.’

They changed direction and pedalled to the boathouse, jumping out of the pedalo and returning it to a politely cheerful man.

‘Is our date over, then?’ Austin asked, gluing his eyes to hers. Juliet had caught a bus from Chanton to Willow and then walked to Eradon Lake to meet up with Austin in the morning. Austin must have walked or used public transport, as he had no car on the island.

‘You can get the bus back to my house with me if you like? There’s not much to do, but I’ll make you some food and drink.’ She wondered if she really meant that, or if she was offering more. Her lips pulled in, and without thinking, she moistened them inside her mouth.

Austin’s face lit up. ‘Sounds good to me.’

They walked to Willow together. Halfway there, Austin grabbed her hand and held it. His was warm and strong. Juliet’s face turned hot. It pleased her that he could make her blush, an extremely rare occurrence. She had avoided romantic relationships for a long time, though; maybe her face would be flaming red more often from now on.

She smiled.

Luck was on their side when they reached the bus stop: Although it had just begun to rain and there was no shelter, a bus arrived the same time they did.

They were in Chanton within thirty minutes, but by then, fortune had abandoned them. The sky was chucking it down, raindrops drumming the shelter they found themselves beneath. After a gaze out at the downpour, Juliet made a pained expression, then grabbed Austin’s hand and led the way. They ran towards her home. Juliet couldn’t help but laugh at their misfortune the entire way. By the time they stumbled through the front door, they were drenched.

‘Gran?’ Juliet yelled. No answer. ‘I hope she isn’t out in this.’ She assumed Lillian was out with Susan, a friend from yoga class.

Austin burst out laughing. ‘I’m soaked.’

‘Me too.’ Juliet moved her head side to side, looking about. ‘One second, I’ll get a towel.’

She took off her shoes and jogged to the downstairs bathroom, used a towel to take the soak out of her hair, discarded it, and then chose a fresh one and returned to Austin, dripping as she went. ‘Here.’

Austin took the towel and ferociously rubbed it over his head. When he put his arms back down, his short hair was fluffy.

Cute. A tingle ran down Juliet’s front.

‘My clothes are wet, wet, wet.’ Austin passed the towel back to her.

‘I would grab you something to wear, but I don’t have any men’s clothing.’

‘I’ll wear anything!’ he replied, with another burp of a laugh.

He began to take his top off, and Juliet heard the wet fabric peel away from his skin. She should have politely looked away, she should have gone to get a dressing gown or anything for him to wear, but instead she stared at his pale body as goose bumps prickled over it. When his tee-shirt was gone, she saw his nipples, small and hard. He was slim, but fit.

He must have noticed her looking, because he moved closer. Juliet took the wet top from his hand and dropped it carelessly. Splat!—it hit the floor. She brought the towel around his back and pulled it over him as if to keep him warm—a ploy to get her body next to his.

She was becoming uncomfortably cold, her clothes chafing, clinging. Austin, with his full lips looking moist, grabbed her hips suddenly and yanked her pelvis close to his. He kissed her.

His tongue pushed into her mouth, flicked hers, circled, retracted. Juliet felt his hands move over her hips, then under her top. Up, up, his fingers moved; he pulled the sodden blouse over her head and dropped it. Splat!

‘Wow.’ He moved back a little, jaw dropping as he took in her upper body. She blushed.

Well, that didn’t take long.

She noticed something sticking out of Austin’s jeans then. The head was on show and it reached his bellybutton. As if he hadn’t realised, he looked down and laughed suddenly. ‘Oh. Sorry about him,’ he said. ‘You just look so good.’

It had been so long, and being wanted pleased her; she got an urge to please Austin right back. But for a moment she looked down and away, pressing her lips together into a tight line. What am I about to do? She gave a hesitant, and hopefully imperceptible, nod to herself. I’m twenty-six. I’ve done this before … It’s okay to want this.

It was as if her acceptance had unbarred the gates of her desire. Although she wasn’t experienced, she would try her best. She wanted to be good at it. Moving her hands behind her back, she unclipped her bra and let the black lingerie slip off. Austin’s eyes glued to her breasts.

She stepped close to him, so her nipples touched his chest, then moved down his body, letting them stroke his flesh the entire way. After undoing his jeans slowly, then pulling his boxers down at a torturous pace, she put his length into her mouth. Not wanting to stop and ask if it was okay, she listened to his moans to gauge her talent. She developed a rhythm and kept at it, there at the entrance to her house, having hardly advanced from the front door.

After edging him until he shook, she gave him release.

When she stood, Austin said to her, ‘Oh … my …’ and he sighed, half smiling. Then, swiftly, he propped her against the wall. The cold of it ran a shiver down her back. Arching his own back to put her nipples in his mouth, Austin gently bit them and flicked them with his tongue while he slipped his hand down the front of her jeans. He started kissing her neck, and she moaned as his fingers brought back sensations Juliet wondered how she’d coped without. When it was over, she waited with her arms wrapped around his back, enjoying the closeness. For a moment, at least.

Then she sobered.

‘Let me get these clothes dry.’ She composed herself, using the towel to cover her nakedness, and grabbed the wet garments from the floor, before scurrying off to the dryer. The clothes needed washing, ideally, but she felt a need to get Austin back in them. ASAP.

She found a big robe that wasn’t too feminine and delivered it to Austin, who had completely stripped off his wet jeans and stood in nothing but boxers. ‘Cheers,’ said Austin, and he huffed a laugh at the dressing gown.

‘I’ll add these to the dryer.’ Juliet picked up the jeans. She directed Austin to the downstairs living room to wait while she changed into dry clothes.

Rummaging through her wardrobes, she tried to gain control of herself, noticing how she felt calm, but also flustered somehow. If anyone had told her that her ‘relationship’ with Austin would reach this level by only the third date, she would have been insulted. But now look at her.

She walked downstairs, wondering what had possessed her. When she entered the living room, the first things she noticed were the empty spaces on the mantelshelf above the fire.

Quickly, her mind brushed that bitterness aside. It pushed her thoughts towards Austin.

She looked at him, and things were better.

CHAPTER SEVEN

NICK ANSWERED THE front door to find his dad standing there. He’d called him earlier to tell him the news. It was the morning after his premonition of Kerra alive in that big, dingy room.

Shrouded by enormous sycamores and evergreens in the front and back gardens, Nick’s bungalow had a secluded feel—a good thing, mostly, but also suffocating at times.

John Crystan wore earthy colours that blended in with the trunks and shrubbery lower to the ground. ‘I’m so sorry,’ he said, his face sad and troubled.

‘Come in.’ Nick gestured. Anger built inside him; people were already acting as if Kerra was dead.

‘Are you in danger, Son?’ His dad spoke urgently, fear in his eyes.

‘I don’t think so.’

‘So it’s not to do with the man who killed your mother?’

‘No ... I don’t see how, at least.’

John started pacing back and forth in the hallway. He stood taller nowadays, and was more expressive than a year ago. He had fair, mousey hair that was starting to grey, his eyes were green, and he looked older than he should have. During the time when his wife’s fate was in question, his posture had slouched and his face had drooped. He’d grown haggard. But after learning the truth, he began to recover some of his former vitality.

For eight years, John had closed himself off, unable to move on from his wife’s disappearance. Then, six months ago, Nick and his brothers shared the truth with their father; they told him what Aldrich could do with his mind, why Samantha visited Grendel Manor, and how and why she was murdered. They lied about one major thing, though: They told their dad that Tommy had killed Aldrich in self-defence.

John took the news hard at first. He stayed holed up in his room for almost three weeks, only parting from it for the obvious necessities. He called in sick to work, let his home grow messy, and ignored his sons’ attempts to help.

Then one day, he emerged from his bedroom a different man. He showered, shaved, dressed presentably, put the house in order, and then went out. He returned with a small apple tree in a pot. Tom called Nick to let him know their dad was acting strangely. When Nick arrived, John finally spoke. ‘Come with me, you three,’ he said to his boys, and marched out to the garden with a spade under one arm and the young tree in his hands.

Outside, John reached into a pocket and pulled out a bracelet. ‘This was the first gift I ever gave to your mum. On our second date, it was.’ John fondled the silver trinket. ‘She used to wear it all the time, everywhere. Then one day, she lost it. We searched for this bracelet like mad … We even argued over her losing it.’ He laughed at the memory. ‘And now, after all these years, just after you three tell me what happened to her, I find it.

‘I’m sorry I’ve hidden away like I have. I guess I always hoped she’d come back. But while I was in my bedroom last night, I heard something rattle and a little thud somewhere in the house. I thought it could have been Tommy, but for some reason I felt I had to get out of bed. I went to my old bedroom, the one your mum and I used to share. You know it’s full of junk now, but still, our old wardrobe is exactly where it was when we were in that room. I felt drawn towards it, so I checked under the wardrobe … and there it was! Now, I’d obviously looked there a thousand times before, when the bracelet originally went missing, and it wasn’t there.’ He shook his head theatrically. Nick hadn’t heard his dad speak this much in years, especially not about his mother. He felt so unnerved that for a second, he wondered who this impostor was.

‘I’m not one to believe in these kinds of things, and I’m struggling to believe what you three told me that murderer could do.’ John’s lips became tight, avoiding Aldrich’s name. ‘But I think your mum is watching over us. I think she led me to finding this.’ He held out the bracelet. ‘I think it’s her way of saying she never stopped loving us, and that I should remember that, and also’—he hesitated—‘that I can’t waste the rest of my life afraid to love again.’ He paused and released a light sigh. ‘She wants me to move on.’

Knowing his mum’s spirit had appeared to Juliet, Nick considered the plausibility of his dad’s theory. Samantha had wanted them to know the truth, and surely not so John would despair for the rest of his years.

Nick looked at his brothers. Tom’s eyes were red and glistening, and Tommy stood with his arms crossed over his muscular frame, his head hanging down to hide his face. Nick was sure he heard a sad sniffle.

‘I want us to plant this apple tree together, and underneath it we’ll bury the bracelet.’ John slipped the bracelet into a little box and put it down on the grass, then in the centre of the garden, he began to dig with the spade. When he was done, he picked up the box and gave it to Nick. ‘I’ve not been the father I should have been.’

‘You have, Dad,’ Nick protested. Tom and Tommy echoed him.

‘No. I haven’t. But I will be.’

Nick knelt down to put the box in the hole. He held it tight for a thoughtful moment, then let it go.

‘Come on.’ John gestured. ‘Let’s put the tree in together.’

So they did. Even though a child alone could have lifted it, all the Crystan men took a hold of the tree and placed it in its new home.

Maybe it was just psychological, but Nick was certain he felt his mum’s presence.

After the tree was planted, they stood together for a while in silence. Before heading indoors, Nick saw his dad take Tommy to one side and heard him quietly say, ‘Whether it was in self-defence or not, thank you for killing that bastard.’ John tapped Tommy on the back, proudly. ‘If you hadn’t, I would have hunted him down myself … and I wouldn’t have shown as much mercy as you did.’

Overhearing those words mixed up strong emotions in Nick; he had the chance to kill Aldrich himself … and apparently, doing it would have made his dad proud.

It was both disturbing and reassuring to learn his morals were so different from his father’s.

Over the following months, John made an effort to interact more with his sons, his colleagues, and his friends. Every single day, he watered the apple tree in memory of his love.

Today, though, he paced back and forth. ‘I can’t believe this has happened. It’s, erhh, I, errhhh …’ He shook his head in stiff motions. ‘Tell me, tell me everything again.’

Seeing his dad so distressed worried Nick. He went through the events in detail. Eventually John put a hand to his forehead and stopped marching about.

‘Dad,’ said Nick.

John was quiet.

‘Dad … She’s alive. I know she is.’

John looked up, giving the most pitiful expression.

Something moved in Nick, boiling and buzzing inside of him. ‘Dad! She is alive.’ He couldn’t believe the look his dad had given him; after all the years John spent hoping Samantha would return, now it seemed he pitied his son for hoping the same about Kerra.

Nick’s harsh tone had a sobering effect on his dad. John forced an apologetic expression, his lips pulling tight into his cheeks. ‘I’m sorry, Son. I didn’t mean to … you know? I just know what having false hope is like. It eats away at you.’

‘It’s not false hope; I will find her.’

John took a moment, then said reassuringly, ‘Maybe you will; after all, you found the truth out about your mother.’ He put a hand on Nick’s shoulder. Nick remembered Fin’s attempts to comfort him with small gestures the night before. Why does everyone think touching my shoulder or rubbing my arm will make things better? ‘I just don’t want anything to happen to you.’ His dad smiled. ‘I can’t lose you.’

‘I’ll be fine.’

‘Nicolas. You need to be careful. You’re a suspect. You’ve been lucky so far that nothing’s led back to you about the manor. But if—’

‘Dad … Tom has already given me this talk. I know not to draw attention to myself, but … I have to find her.’

Then John did something Nick had a lot of respect for: He dropped the subject. ‘Okay. Just don’t do anything stupid.’

In the kitchen, they discussed why anyone would want to hurt Kerra, who would or could have, and why it had happened at West Edge Country House. Nick had spent the night pondering these things. Had someone followed him to the hotel? Or was it an opportunist who realised Kerra was alone in the room? Was the perpetrator already in there? I didn’t go in with Kerra. Someone could have been hiding inside, waiting.

Nick kept remembering the curly-haired man.

After discussing everything to the point of frustration, he said, ‘Well, there’s not much I can do. I believe she’s alive, and I know I’ll find her somehow. But I think I’ll have to wait and see what the police come up with.’

‘I’m proud of you, you know?’ said John unexpectedly. ‘I’ve never told you that before, but you’ve turned out a good man. Even without my guidance.’

John’s newfound (or maybe recently recovered) ability to open up to people made Nick uncomfortable; he kept saying things lately that Nick had been left to assume over the years, like how much his dad loved him and wanted the best for him.

A stiff smile made its way onto Nick’s face. Remembering Tom’s odd mood the other morning, he asked, ‘How’s Tommy doing?’

‘He’s not himself. He doesn’t ever want to talk about you or Tom—ah, where is Tom, actually?’

‘He’s spending the day at Michael’s.’

‘Tell him I popped by, okay? I miss him around the house.’

‘Yeah.’

‘Anyway, where was I? Oh, yeah … I think Tommy’s annoyed that Tom didn’t tell him he’s, erhh, he, erm, likes men, before he told you.’

Nick found his dad’s awkwardness amusing. John couldn’t casually say ‘gay’ or ‘homosexual’ without pause. ‘Are you sure Tommy just doesn’t like gay people?’

John appeared offended by that idea. ‘No, Nicolas. I don’t think he’s like that.’

‘Well, whatever the reason, it’s getting to Tom.’

‘Tom hasn’t come by to see his brother either,’ John said defensively. ‘They should talk.’

‘Tommy ignores him.’

Nick’s dad expelled a big huff. ‘Well it’s gonna take time then, isn’t it? Just leave them to sort it out between themselves.’

Just outside the kitchen window, a small Nightingale caught Nick’s attention. John turned to look at the bird too, his expression becoming pensive. He let out a wistful laugh. ‘You probably don’t recall, Nicolas, but your mother used to have an odd relationship with birds.’

It was strange hearing his dad talk about his mum so easily now. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Well, sometimes when your mother was distressed, a bird would appear nearby … as if it had sensed her mood. Birds just seemed to have a liking for her, following her about whenever we went new places. I used to tease her by calling her Snow White when we first started dating, but after some time, we just grew accustomed to them.’

The story made Nick uneasy; he recalled the words that had come from Aldrich’s portal: The seagull, the crow, the sparrow … He shivered. But at the same time, it was nice and vaguely amusing to imagine his mum had some sort of kinship with the animals.

Unsure where to take the topic, he shrugged with a smile. ‘Mum was lucky she didn’t have to listen to a chorus of them singing every morning, in the very early hours.’ He laughed, and so did his dad. ‘I like the trees surrounding this house, but so do the birds, unfortunately.’

After a bit more conversation, John left. Nick felt better having seen his father. By now he’d informed all relevant people about the incident at the hotel. Kerra’s family would have spread the news too. Throughout the day he received texts and online messages from school acquaintances he hadn’t spoken to in years, saying things like, ‘I heard what happened, hope you’re okay,’ and, ‘I’m sure Kerra will be found.’ To his annoyance, even people who had openly hated Kerra were getting in touch.

When he spoke with Mora, she told him he didn’t have to come into work tomorrow and that he could take as much time off as he needed, but Nick insisted on going in. He wanted the distraction. While I figure out a way to find Kerra, and wait for the police to get in touch. He had tried to bring on more visions to see how he would end up in the enormous room where his girlfriend was alive, but nothing came to him.

Unwelcome memories popped into his head. A house party. He was seventeen. It was back when he’d first dated Kerra. Together they went to the party, and together they spent most of the night. Then, as everyone became intoxicated, Kerra disappeared for a suspiciously long time. Nick, thinking she’d gone to the toilet, gave her the benefit of the doubt, until he realised his friend Alex Campbell was out of sight too. He searched the house. That’s when he walked in on them. Kerra’s legs were wrapped around Alex’s back, whose butt cheeks were tensing, his balls contracting with the final thrust of his climax. It was a potent image of betrayal, burnt indelibly into Nick’s mind. Too distraught to fight, he had stormed out and walked home in the rain. He was such a pushover that he soon forgave Kerra, deluding himself into thinking he deserved it, into believing he was lucky to have her at all. But when she did it again—and again and again—he broke up with her.

Today the memory haunted him, as if his mind wanted him to hate Kerra. Hating her would be more bearable than grieving her absence.

He turned on his desktop computer. A laptop had been on his mental wish list for years, but any worth having would cost an arm and a leg. When it eventually loaded, he connected to the Internet and searched for ‘Detective Inspector Anish Talwar.’ Anxiety buzzed through him, as if researching the detective made him guilty somehow, but he dug deeper anyway. Something about Talwar nagged at his instincts.

Nick’s findings were worrying. Talwar had been in charge of the investigation for the missing child Katie Baker, one of the kids Aldrich had sent through the portal. It was unlikely she’d ever be found.

Failed case for Talwar.

The detective had also investigated the disappearance of Marcus Luck, a young boy who’d vanished a couple of years before Samantha Crystan. Nick assumed Marcus was also a victim of the portal.

Another failed case for Talwar.

And as if that wasn’t bad enough, the detective was part of the inquiry into Aldrich’s death.

Your career isn’t looking good, thought Nick, and now he understood the hunger he’d seen in the detective’s eyes: Talwar was desperate. An odd mixture of guilt and responsibility weighed Nick down. Why should I know more about these cases than he does?

Many times, Nick had wished for a way to let the various parents of the missing children know the truth, but he couldn’t, not without incriminating himself. What would he tell them, anyway? Your child was sent through a portal by you while you were under mind control by a lunatic named Aldrich Grendel, and now that portal is gone, but apparently they are ‘better off’ on that side, so there you go, see you around! … Somehow, he doubted that would bring the parents much peace.

Tom returned in the evening, and Nick relayed the talk with their dad, suggesting he should visit his twin brother and try to reconcile with him. The response he got was, ‘He’s the one ignoring me.’ Though after some persuasion, Tom finally said, ‘Okay. I’ll go over to see Dad nearer to the weekend, and if Tommy’s there and wants to talk to me, then he can.’

Later on, Fin popped by again to keep Nick company. They talked in the snug, Fin attempting to lighten the mood and pass the time. All evening, though, Nick had the disquieting feeling that someone was watching him.

After his best friend left, he found sleeping tough; when it finally took him, it dragged him heavy under, but he woke throughout the night, alert and missing Kerra, and struggled to sleep again. The cut above his ear was an itchy and swollen reminder that his girlfriend was out there somewhere, in need of finding.

In the morning, he drove from the south side of Amiton, over Lynn River, and parked on the outskirts of the town centre. The weather was good, lifting his spirits and giving hope that he’d make his vision come true.

Walking through the lower grounds, he passed a newsagent and checked the local paper. The story was in there. Nick wasn’t named or shown in photographs, but he was mentioned as ‘the victim’s boyfriend’ throughout the article. Displayed was an image of Kerra he’d never seen before, probably provided by her family, and the paper had blatantly selected this one for effect. It worked. Kerra’s smile in the photo was the most genuine grin Nick had ever seen from her; she looked so innocent, making the story even more horrific than it already was.

Looking at the picture, his body ached, but he reminded himself of the vision. She’s alive. I’ll find her.

The sketch of the curly-haired man was to one side, with a caption providing information on who to contact if anybody recognised him. Everyone will recognise Sideshow Bob, thought Nick bitterly, and he surprised himself with a stupid laugh. People nearby gave disapproving looks. Oh, well … Laughing was better than losing hope.

He skimmed through other papers, relieved to see the story hadn’t made national news. As he left the shop he wondered if the death of a homeless person would make it to any papers at all. Maybe if Kerra were younger, or a celebrity, the incident would have gone national.

He made it to The Fallend. The large shopping street had a fifty-foot wall at one side, zigzagged by steps that led to the upper grounds. Creaky Crystals was in the corner, tight against the wall, and was one of the only tourist shops in the lower grounds, an area flooded with general stores and supermarkets. The upper grounds had a lot more tourist shops, restaurants, high street brands, and also a lively marketplace.

Many off-islanders were shocked by the amount of Pagan stores in Amiton; the largest town on the island successfully capitalised on Lansin Island’s history and attracted followers of earth-based religions from across the world. Public rituals were hosted for all eight Pagan festivals each year. The next approaching was Beltane, and although the biggest money-maker was Samhain—or Halloween, as it was more commonly known—Beltane was a better time of year for big outdoor events, and people were encouraged to get involved.

The moment Nick entered his workplace, Janet Morgan exploded in tears and ran up to him. Her face was horribly contorted in grief, stretching back her lips and revealing her large teeth and gums. She tried to talk, but the sounds came out stunted. Seeming to realise she would be unable to speak until she composed herself, she put her arms around Nick and hid her face in his chest. Her sobbing was so fierce, it was hard for Nick to balance.

When Nick saw Mora watching with teary eyes, he just wanted to pass out and avoid the pain.

Eventually, Janet moved back and said, ‘I’m, so, s-s-sorry.’ She made a crying noise that was like a siren picking up volume. ‘I, set, y-you, b-b-back up, with, her … hunh.’ She started to wail again.

He pulled her to him, rubbed her back. ‘Don’t worry. It’s not your fault.’

She made more noises, maybe in protest.

‘The police will find her.’

She cried a little longer, then hurried off to the toilets at the back of the store. There were only a few customers in, and they politely ignored the drama. Nick approached his manager and friend Mora.

‘Nicolas,’ she said delicately, ‘if you want to talk, then you just let me know. But I’m sure this must be difficult for you.’ She looked him in the eyes. ‘I won’t ask questions.’

Mora’s understanding moved him more than Janet’s lament. He swallowed. ‘Thank you.’

‘And, Nicolas …’

‘Yeah.’

‘I appreciate you coming in today. You know you didn’t have to.’ She smiled at him. Mora was a careful thinker, and spoke her mind with apparent ease. Short, plump, and in her forties, she had a calmness about her. Her skin was yellowy-white to the point of looking peaked, her eyes were green, and she had cropped medium-brown hair. She loved Creaky Crystals and her staff.

Nick smiled back, then began his usual duties. He kept to himself for most of the morning.

The new part-timer, Lucy, came in at one o’clock. She’d been hired after Nick was given a full-time position, replacing a colleague who’d suddenly left at the end of last year. Lucy seemed oblivious of the news about Kerra, and Nick was glad for that. It was a relief to have someone not treat him as if he were fragile.

‘Hello there, young Nicolas!’ Lucy said in a staged voice. She was actually younger than him by four years, but oh well; Lucy said whatever she wanted. She wore big, square black-rimmed glasses that seemed to hover in front of her skinny face, and she stood with an odd posture, sticking her chin out as if her head wanted to be as far away from her body as possible … Or maybe it wanted to beat her feet to every finish line?

‘Hey.’

She looked at him with mock judgement. ‘Are you hanging?’ she asked. Her hair was short and peroxide blonde with dull brown roots peering through.

‘No.’

‘What’s up with you, then? You don’t look so fresh.’

‘Just tired.’

‘Why?’

Nick laughed. ‘I don’t know. Nightmares.’

‘Don’t wear socks in bed, then,’ she said instantly, as if her advice was obvious.

‘I don’t …’

‘Oh.’ She shrugged. ‘I have bad dreams if I sleep with socks on.’ She walked off after that. No wonder people call you Kooky Lucy. She started browsing the CDs & DVDs section, as if shopping, not working. A customer walked in, but Lucy paid zero attention; she didn’t seem to understand social politeness (or customer service, either) and ignored most people unless she already knew them.

The weather outside turned, and rain pelted down. The drum of the droplets on the glass front was relaxing to Nick. He began to feel hopeful.

Then Kerra’s father came into the store, soaking wet and angry.

A pain sparked in Nick’s chest; he felt like he’d been punched in the heart. Crap. His eyes widened at David Evans, who headed straight for him. Usually quiet and passive, David was shaking in rage, extending his arms. Like a bulldog, he had a round face, droopy cheeks, and beady eyes. His mouth was normally set in a natural frown, but right now his lips were twisted in anger. ‘Where is she?!’ he shouted.

Rigid, Nick couldn’t respond.

‘Why didn’t you protect her? Where were you?!’ Spit flew from his mouth. He reached Nick, grabbed him with both hands, and shook him. His wet grip stretched Nick’s top.

Mora must have been out the back, otherwise she would have intervened. Janet watched in horror, her hands covering her mouth, and Lucy’s jaw dropped as if she’d discovered the twist in a film. Some customers had similar reactions; others left in a flash.

Embarrassment flooded Nick. Then anger. Enough to give him back his voice. ‘I don’t know what happened!’ he yelled in David’s face. ‘But I’ll find her.’ He only just realised that one of Kerra’s brothers was behind David, glaring.

‘You sorry excuse for a man.’ David pressed his forehead hard against Nick’s. ‘She never should have given you a second chance.’

That got him. Nick shoved Kerra’s father forcefully enough to get out of his grip. Being the lighter one of the two, he actually pushed himself back farther than he pushed David away. ‘Believe what you want. But I’m going to find her!’ His body shook. Stick up for yourself. Stick up for yourself!

David’s fists tensed by his side, his knuckles whitening, but Mora appeared and waddled over as fast as she could. A mobile phone was in her hand. ‘I’ll call the police,’ she threatened.

‘Urgh! No need. I’m leaving.’ David grabbed his son by the shoulder and stormed towards the exit. Before going, he spotted Janet Morgan; he pointed at her and shouted, ‘You! You’re not friends with him anymore.’ His arm swung around to aim a finger at Nick. ‘Don’t even talk to him!’

He left.

Janet stared at Nick, and a second later she burst into tears again. She was good friends with Kerra’s parents, having known the Evanses for years. Lucy comforted her, and Nick guessed later on that Janet must have filled Lucy in on the news about Kerra, because the socially awkward new starter began avoiding him.

Mr Evans’s enraged face stuck in Nick’s mind all afternoon. But it wasn’t entirely bad; although he shook and found it hard to breathe for at least an hour, the confrontation strengthened his resolve. Reasons to be proactive in his search for Kerra multiplied as the day dragged on.

Nick just wanted the shift to end. His impatient state irritated him as much as the scab above his ear, which had been easy enough to hide under his medium-length hair. Nobody had said anything, at least.

After work, he received a call from the police. The woman said she was the family coordinator and had spoken with Mr Evans about the argument in Creaky Crystals. She told Nick that he and Kerra’s family shouldn’t be in contact while the investigation was underway and that she’d be updating him moving forward. Detective Inspector Talwar would only be in touch if further questioning was required, or if there was a significant development in the case.

That was fine by Nick.

He ended up in the snug that evening. Alone. An eerie feeling started to weigh on him. The same feeling that had haunted him a lot recently. He moved to the window and looked out at the front garden.

As if the night wasn’t dark enough, the sycamores and evergreens blocked out the light from streetlamps and the moon. All Nick saw was an orange circular area, the entrance to the drive, lit by a nearby lamp post. Everything else was black, including the silhouette of the tall figure standing in the orange glow.

Nick squinted.

The dark figure’s shape seemed familiar, and his shape was all that could be discerned. The shadow’s head looked too big, topped with ... a mop of curly hair.

Stealthily, Nick edged away from the window and aimed to exit the room. If he moved too fast, his observer might notice. He walked into the hall and towards the front door. After slipping on a tatty pair of shoes that were at the end of the hall, he pushed down on the door handle. Gently. His heart went beat, beat, beat-beat-beat! and only seemed to get faster. As cold air rushed in, Nick rushed out. The black silhouette shot to one side and ran off down the street.

Nick pursued it.

The watcher had the head start, but Nick would not let him get away; he’d catch him and do anything necessary to find Kerra. His thighs burnt hot, picking up speed, closing the gap. At school, he’d always been a decent sprinter, built for pace rather than the slog of long distance; he put his speed to use now and gained on his target. Closer, closer. They neared the end of the street. Nick’s fingertips brushed the fabric on the man’s back, but because of his outstretched arm, he lost balance and fell behind. He hadn’t realised it at West Edge Country House, but this curly-haired guy was really tall.

Just as Nick caught up again, the man turned a corner. Nick followed. Around the bend he felt a buzz of energy, like the air had imploded, but he saw nothing. No one was there.

With frantic pivots, he tried to spot the man through the dark. He turned one way, turned the other, turned back. He thought he heard a thud in the distance.

The man was gone.

CHAPTER EIGHT

SHE WOKE WITH Austin by her side the next morning. After they’d spent the afternoon together and she’d asked him to stay for dinner, to introduce him to Lillian, Juliet had felt that sudden lust again. Now she found herself in bed with the man, wondering how much she really knew about him.

‘Good morning,’ he said, and kissed her forehead.

She smiled. You don’t even live on Lansin Island. You’ll get up and leave at any moment. ‘Where do you live?’

He looked at her as if he’d woken up next to a different person. ‘In Birmingham, with my sister.’ His dark eyebrows came together on his bony face.

‘You don’t have their accent.’

‘I wasn’t born there.’

They both said nothing for ten seconds or so.

‘Where were you born?’

Austin’s face turned indignant. ‘Why are you interrogating me?’ He laughed, but it wasn’t his usual burst.

Juliet shook her head. What’s wrong with me? ‘Sorry. It’s only … I realised I don’t know very much about you. And I suppose you’ll be leaving Lansin Island soon …’

‘I’m not sure yet.’ He smiled at her understandingly. ‘I could just go back to give my sister the research, and then, who knows? Maybe I’ll come live here for a while.’

‘But why? Won’t you become bored? Once you’ve seen everything worth seeing, there’ll be no reason for you to stay.’

He laughed more genuinely this time. ‘Not true,’ he said, and gently kissed her lips.

It reassured her. I’m like two different people. One minute I want to rewind what I’ve done, the next I want to do it again. ‘Are you going to any of the festivals coming up?’ she asked. ‘The Fire Festival, or any maypole dances?’ She didn’t plan on attending any herself, but she knew Austin wanted to see more of the happenings on Lansin Island.

‘Errhhhh, I don’t know yet. When are they? First of May?’

‘The Fire Festival is normally the night before. It’s held in a large field just north of Amiton; you pass it on the way here. They hold car boot sales there every Saturday, I think. But the maypole dances are on the first, and there will be a few at Wood Park.’

Austin’s expression became regretful. ‘Ohhhh. I can’t … I’m popping back to see my sister on those two days exactly. Just to update her. And I’ve got some things to do.’ He laughed out, ‘Typical, isn’t it?’

Hmmm. Juliet hated the word ‘typical’ used that way. She struggled to gather her thoughts, imagining Austin ‘popping’ back to Birmingham and never coming back again. Becoming annoyed at herself, she settled on avoidance as her best tactic. I should get up and say I have plans for the day to hint that he should leave. So that’s what she did.

As Austin was about to walk out the front door, Juliet asked, ‘Where are you staying?’

‘Oh. Just with a friend who lives here.’

After prying earlier, she didn’t want to ask for specifics. She smiled at him as he went on his way. Something wasn’t right about his answer, though; if he had a friend who lived on Lansin Island, then this friend could have given him the tour of Amiton, like Juliet had. Or had Austin used it as an excuse to go on a date with her? She hoped so.

After going to her personal gym and taking a long but entirely effortless run on the treadmill, she showered, had breakfast, and called up to her gran to offer her some food. All she heard in response was a strained whimper. A shock went through her, and the sensation of the blood draining from her body.

She hurried upstairs and knocked on Lillian’s door while letting herself in. ‘Gran? Are you okay?’

Lillian was struggling to prop herself up in bed, her face strained and glistening with sweat. Through soft cries, she replied, ‘It’s my hip … I woke in the night and it ached so terribly.’ She dragged in a cautious breath. Juliet came to her side and put a hand behind her back, supporting her up. Lillian’s silvery-grey hair clung to her clammy, wizened face. ‘I hadn’t wanted to disturb you, so I waited for the pain to go and then fell back asleep. But now I have woken in pain again.’

‘Gran. I’m calling the surgery.’ Juliet tried to sound both stern and caring.

‘No, no. The ache is lessening now, sweetheart.’ Lillian was sitting upright by now and began turning to drop her legs out of the bed. In her golden nightgown, she stood up with a steady motion. ‘You see. It’s passed.’ She smiled in her genuine way and touched the back of Juliet’s elbow. ‘Thank you, sweetheart.’

‘You promised you’d get yourself checked out if the aches became worse. Please, Gran.’

Lillian looked at her with a tired expression that seemed to portray: ‘I know my body better than you do; your worry is only making it worse.’ But what she said was, ‘If I have any more pains today or tonight, then I will call the doctors first thing tomorrow. I promise.’

Juliet was reluctant to risk another day, but she had to bite her tongue. If it were her in Lillian’s position, she wouldn’t want anyone to nag. ‘Okay. But if you do wake up with pain tonight, just shout for me this time.’

Because Lillian lived at The Haven now, her granddaughter had urged her a few months ago to register with the local GP. When Juliet had suggested her gran move in, Lillian accepted without hesitation; nothing much was left for her in Bath since her second husband, a man she’d been happily married to for almost nine years, died from a stroke last year. Juliet had arranged and paid for her gran’s most valuable belongings to be transported to the island, and one of Lillian’s previous neighbours was keeping an eye on the house in Bath while she decided what to do with it.

Still worried, Juliet made up excuses to spend more of the morning with her gran. Preparing food for her, she asked, ‘I know we’ve talked a bit about it before, but why is my mum the way she is?’ It had been on her mind a lot since the argument, breeding irritation in her bones.

Lillian straightened her posture in her kitchen chair and rested one of her hands on the back of the other. ‘Your mother has always been a cold woman.’

‘Even when I was little? Before she won the lottery?’

‘You tell me,’ said Lillian.

Thinking back, Juliet said, ‘Well, she’s never been particularly affectionate, I know that. But I assumed she was setting an example for me, showing me how to be a strong woman, giving me space to achieve my goals by myself.’

A sudden huff came from Lillian. ‘Sweetheart, I really don’t like to say it, but …’ She stopped, maybe rethinking what she was about to say.

‘What?’ Juliet paused her food preparation to see her gran’s face.

Lillian looked sorry. ‘… I believe you may have come to those conclusions yourself.’

I know … It’s called denial. ‘It just seems like there’s not enough reason for her to be the way she is. She loves money, that’s apparent, but I don’t believe money alone could have made her like this …’ She left her words open, hoping for enlightenment from her gran.

But Lillian flicked her head away, chin high and squinting, in a fashion that reminded Juliet of her mother. ‘No, sweetheart. I think it’s simply that your mother was born with the view that the world had wronged her somehow, so when she won that money, she latched onto it like it was the only good she would ever get. The money did not change her; she made that money define who she is.’

Juliet could see some logic in the theory, but still she thought, There has to be more to Mum than that. She was tempted to keep talking, but thinking of it all made her angry, and Lillian had spoken her last sentence with finality.

For a while longer she watched over her gran, still worried for her health. But once reassured Lillian’s pain had subsided, she found herself with nothing to do. As was becoming the norm.

If she didn’t find a new hobby or academic interest soon, she’d end up sitting about the house thinking all day … and her stress would build and build and build. Now that she’d learnt to passively block out the spirits, though, she supposed spending more time outdoors would be okay again. Occasionally, when her guard slipped, she would see flickers and blurs, but she’d quickly remember Tamara’s teachings—I believe in my ability, believe in what I can do—and the phenomena would disappear.

Back to work. That was it: She would return to Chanton Hillview café. She’d worried her staff might be more perceptive of her guilt, because they were some of the only people she’d allowed herself to get close to. But it was okay now. Her shame surrounding Aldrich’s murder had lessened in correlation with her returning confidence.

Time to move forward.

She got dressed into suitable clothes for the weather and work, leaving behind the thick and cumbersome articles she’d hidden under for the past months. Then she walked down the familiar route, realising how much she’d missed it.

On the way, she passed a couple of men, and each looked her up and down. They were so shameless about it, she felt uncomfortable. Guys checked her out often, but it never used to be so blatant … Or maybe it’s more common now? There was one thing she knew for sure: The side effects of her ability were to blame.

The self-closing door offered its natural resistance when Juliet entered. The view. She smiled, knowing the minimalistic style achieved what she had wanted: The hills to the north of the island were the main focal point. The neutral tan, brown, and chrome colours were subtle enough to be unobtrusive, and even though dashes of red offered distraction, the layout naturally led the customers’ eyes to the back of the café, to the entire glass wall displaying the view of the hills.

Already, mild damage was noticeable on the décor, and Juliet certainly noticed it; it made her wish she’d seen the wear taking place. Time to move forward. Not look back.

Even the thought of retrospection brought her parents to mind. I’m glad Lillian’s the perfect mother for you … What had her mother meant by that? She’d received a text from her yesterday, after dinner with Austin and Lillian. It read:

we r stayin at the herlit htl. Has tht woman left the house yt? M xox

Now it seemed Juliet’s mother was referring to The Haven as ‘the house,’ instead of her house, which was a step in the right direction, at least. Juliet had no worries that her parents could afford to stay at The Herlit, a posh and pricey hotel in Amiton, and she’d rather they sojourn there than at her home—that would come at the unthinkable price of evicting Lillian.

Juliet had replied:

If you mean Gran, then no. She lives here. Enjoy your stay. X

Maybe the reply had been immature, but Juliet wanted to hold strong. Her mother had to learn to respect her.

‘Juliet!’ one of her staff members, Ashleigh, exclaimed and did a little dance. A tray of food and hot drinks wobbled in her hands. Regaining its balance, she laughed. ‘Are you working today?’ She held her breath after the question.

‘Yes,’ Juliet replied, to which Ashleigh grinned wide and breathed out. ‘I thought I’d see how you’re all getting on without me.’

Ashleigh’s eyes widened, the rest of her face slackening. When Juliet began to squint at her employee, Ashleigh gave a noticeably forced smile.

Juliet asked, ‘How are things going?’

‘Gimme a minute.’ Ashleigh hurried off and delivered the order to an elderly couple chit-chatting at a table nearby. Juliet recognised the couple, who regularly came in for cream tea, and smiled a greeting to them. When Ashleigh returned, she looked as if she was about to answer, but then shrugged. ‘It’s been … fine.’

Ashleigh was the bubbliest person Juliet knew. Something had to be up.

‘Is Sandra in?’

‘No.’ Ashleigh’s lips pulled in.

A suspicion arose in Juliet. She spotted Roy behind the counter, using the coffee machine. She waited for the drink he was preparing to end up in a customer’s hand, then took her chance to say, ‘Hi, Roy. I’d like to speak with you in the office when you’re free.’

‘Hello,’ his deep voice rumbled. ‘Yes, of course. Allow me just a moment, please.’ He was a big, round man, originally from Zimbabwe, and although he had a strong accent with a staccato cadence, he spoke excellent English from having lived in London for ten years and working as a chef in a busy restaurant.

While Juliet waited, a new staff member, Charlie Robson, headed over. He was friends with Ashleigh, who had recommended him for the position, and had been upfront in his interview about wanting the job so he could save for travelling. Juliet had respected that.

Charlie would have been very plain-looking if it wasn’t for some unsightly features. The shape of his mouth was a crescent with the pointed edges down, but even through this naturally shaped frown, he predominantly looked happy—foolishly so. Buckteeth cut the crescent in two. His nose was long with a sharp end, drawn down too far as if it hadn’t known when to stop growing, and his cheeks, meaty below half-open eyes, bulged over an undeveloped chin. A caricature artist would have a field day with his face.

‘Hi, Juliet.’

‘Charlie. How are you finding working here?’

A slight flinch ran over his face, his features making him an open book. ‘I like it here … especially when Roy’s in.’

‘That’s good to hear. How about working with Sandra?’

‘Yeah. She’s really … on the ball.’ But a sudden alertness in his usually sleepy eyes gave away his true feelings.

‘Okay.’ There was no point drilling him on the matter, and Juliet understood his reluctance to speak ill of a colleague. ‘How’s saving up coming along? Do you know where you want to go travelling yet?’

His face brightened immediately. ‘I’ve saved some money, but my friends keep inviting me out, so I’ve been spending more than I should, really.’ He laughed, rolled his eyes, and looked searchingly at Juliet as if they shared the same problem. ‘And, erm, it depends where Claire wants to go, really. It’s her that wants to travel more than I do. And I want to be with her for the rest of my life, so I’ll just go wherever she picks.’

How can you know at nineteen who you want to spend the rest of your life with? Juliet was seven years older than Charlie and had enough concerns just casually dating, let alone committing to someone.

‘She keeps changing her mind,’ he continued. ‘One minute she’s thinking America, maybe Route 66, and the next she wants to travel Europe. It’s hard to know how much I need to save!’

Juliet smiled. ‘Well, as long as you’re saving something, you’ll be getting closer to the amount you need. However much that ends up being.’

‘Ha, yeah, that’s true.’ He was smiling goofily when Juliet noticed his eyes glance down and linger on her body. It wasn’t in a perverted manner, more like his mind had wandered. It was awkward, though, especially with him being such an open book.

‘Juliet,’ Roy said from behind her. She looked back; he was ready to talk.

‘Okay.’ Turning to Charlie, she said, ‘I need to speak with Roy in the office. Ashleigh knows what she’s doing if you need any help, but I’m sure you two will be fine for a moment.’

Charlie appeared to snap out of his daydream. ‘Yeah, we’ll be okay. It was nice to see you again.’ Although she doubted his words were judgemental, Juliet picked up on the hidden message: You’ve not been here enough. She felt no need to justify herself.

As she walked with Roy to the office, she thought about Austin, finally deciding she was glad they’d reached a physical level. Maybe three dates was too soon, but at least Austin intended to stick around for a while. The more she remembered the details of last night, the better she felt about it.

In the office, she saw the desk had been moved. It almost annoyed her, but then … What should I expect after having so much time off? Still, this had been her space. One of her favourite places to be.

The wooden floor creaked as Roy followed her inside. Juliet hadn’t noticed in the light of the café, but Roy’s eyes looked red and heavy. His face hung into a subtle frown.

‘I spoke with Ashleigh a moment ago,’ Juliet began. ‘I asked her how things were going here, and she didn’t seem too enthusiastic in her answer ...’

Roy chuckled. ‘Ashleigh is a good girl. She does not want to cause trouble,’ he said, as if it were a complete answer. But when Juliet remained silent, her stand-in manager heaved in a breath that lifted his chest. ‘I think we should talk.’

‘Sure.’ Juliet pulled out a chair for him, then sat behind her desk, sensing the wrongness of its new position. Roy’s chair made noises of protest, supporting his weight as he lowered into it.

‘I did not want to tell you this over the phone.’

‘Okay.’

‘And I do not want to put you in a difficult position.’

‘Roy.’ Juliet huffed light-heartedly. ‘Just tell me, please.’

‘It is Sandra.’

I know. I’ve figured that out already …
but what has she done?

Roy went on. ‘She has been very … strict’—he nodded, as if assuring himself he’d picked the right word—‘in her running of the café. She was all right at first when you promoted her, but she has become quick to rebuke Ashleigh and Charlie, and she does not have the patience to tell them how to improve. It is a hostile feeling when she is here.’ After a thoughtful pause, he said, ‘Sometimes, she will even talk to me in this manner, in front of our customers.’

Juliet shook her head. ‘This puts me in a tough situation.’ Roy’s expression became troubled, which wasn’t Juliet’s intention, so she added, ‘But it’s my responsibility to handle situations like this. I’ll talk to her.’

‘Thank you.’ He breathed out like he was blowing out a candle. ‘You know the reasons I wanted to work here. I have worked hard, I have lived my life—in terms of career, I believe—and so I wanted this slower pace. But at the rate it is going ...’ His heavy eyes fell on Juliet’s. ‘… Sandra will drive me away.’

The thought of it made Juliet’s chest ache. I should have been here. ‘I won’t let that happen. I’ll talk to her next time I’m in.’

Roy seemed about to ask when that would be, but then tightened his lips instead. He nodded.

Juliet had worried about this exact thing when she’d given Sandra the role. Even in her previous position, Sandra had been diligent, precise, but also bossy. That bossiness was never backed up by power, though—not until Juliet promoted her. It’ll be fine. I’ll talk to her as reasonably as possible. But she knew it would be a delicate procedure. Sandra wasn’t a nasty person, and she probably didn’t mean to cause misery for others, but she had a habit of knowing in her head what tasks needed completing and at the same time, not communicating it to the staff. So when jobs weren’t finished the way she silently expected, she became impatient and angry.

‘Have you seen any more of that man?’ asked Roy. ‘The one who came in to ask about you.’

‘Austin? Who asked about the décor?’

‘Yes. Him. Did you know him already?’

‘No.’ The question bugged her. ‘Why?’

‘Oh. I thought he knew you. He came straight inside and asked to speak to you, to Juliet Maystone, is what he said. I asked why, and he said about the interior of the café, like I told you, but I assumed you must have known him.’

‘You told me he asked for the manager.’

‘You are the manager.’ He frowned. ‘I am sorry. I do not know why I told it to you that way. He did ask for you, but by name.’

Now frowning herself, Juliet thought, A simple misunderstanding? But it didn’t reassure her. The next time she saw Austin, she would have to ask him about this. Since unintentionally becoming complicit in murder, she’d learnt it was better to err on the side of caution than go with the flow and end up in deep waters.

CHAPTER NINE

IT WAS LIKE magic. The curly-haired man had turned the corner … then vanished. Nick stood there, perplexed, for a couple of minutes. A kind of electric friction momentarily warped the air. There was nowhere the man could have hidden with such speed. But after scanning the area the best he could in the dark, Nick grew concerned and returned home.

He considered alerting the police, but because of the suspicious guy’s disappearing act, he decided against it. Something bigger was afoot. Before, he hadn’t been sure Kerra’s abduction was targeted. But now, a dread in his gut begged him to see the signs. Someone had said something recently … something important. What was it?

With nothing more he could do, he turned in. In the morning, he remembered that a nightmare had tormented his sleep. Alex and Kerra. Alex and Kerra. Alex and Kerra. Why do I keep seeing it? I got over it years ago. And in his waking moments, he had revisited the conflict with David Evans at Creaky Crystals. The look in David’s eyes: the blame, the hate, the anger … but most painfully, the sadness.

Hot chocolate normally helped to cheer him, so that’s what he drank this morning. It didn’t help. He reached the bottom of the mug, and then, in a foul mood, tired and restive, he answered a knocking at the front door.

It was Alex Campbell of all people. His acne-covered face was instantly recognisable, along with his salient nose, big, round ears, and always-dry and flaky lips. Plain, light brown hair accompanied his undesirable features.

Nick ran his tongue along the bottoms of his upper molars, his jaw jutting to the side. Every time he saw Alex, he wondered what attraction Kerra had to him. Not physical. But he knew Alex had magnetism, a way of making others feel instantly included in his life—though Nick suspected the only reason his former friend fed into people’s attention-seeking behaviour was to gain their favour so he could turn around and use them.

‘Nick. I heard what happened.’ Alex’s voice was tense.

There was nothing to say back to that.

‘Nick?’

Alex’s face bred contempt in Nick. The face that had deceived him. The face that had laughed behind his back, and then begged and apologised when its owner had been caught out. The face that right now looked more and more despicable by the second. You’ve not made a real effort with me in months. Why now? Alex only texted or called from time to time, suggesting they hit the town, or hang out, but the effort always seemed forced.

‘Nick ...’ he stressed, as if Nick were hard of hearing. ‘I heard about Kerra.’

Kerra … Kerra ... Nick’s head pounded. Him using her name felt like he was taking a liberty—another liberty. Was this hate always here?

Nick looked down at his fist.

The potent image again. The climax. The betrayal. We were friends. Fin and I welcomed you into our group. We were a trio. I trusted you.

‘Nick?’ Alex raised his voice.

So Nick thumped him in the face. Alex stumbled backwards, fell. The front door was closed and locked before he could retaliate.

Flexing his aching knuckles, Nick experienced massive relief … and massive anxiety. He laughed. Then laughed some more, shaking his head. But his thoughts were a snarled cloud that made no sense.

Bang, bang, bang-bang-bang-bang! Alex assaulted the door. ‘Niiiiick! You fucking twat!’ he raged.

Still laughing, unsure of what to say but needing to say something, he shouted back, ‘That was long overdue, Alex.’

The assault of the door went on, echoing down the hall. But eventually Alex stopped. ‘Fine,’ he yelled. ‘I deserved that.’

‘You deserved more than that.’

‘Fine! Just let me in ... We’ll talk.’

And just like that, it was less funny. Nick would have to face his actions. But not now. ‘No. Just go away.’

‘Nick ... The police questioned me yesterday.’ Alex spoke more calmly. Nick walked to the snug and opened a small, high window to hear better. Alex’s left cheek was bright red. His ashen hair glinted golden in the daylight. ‘They thought I could have ... you know? But I was with John and Niall from school that night. We were in town ... and they confirmed that.’

Nick had never suspected him anyway; Alex may have been deceitful and disloyal, but a murderer?

‘You don’t have to explain,’ Nick said miserably. ‘Just leave, please.’

Alex protested. He stuck around for a while—he was always a stubborn one—but Nick easily out-waited him from inside the comfort of his home.

Don’t draw attention to yourself—that was the advice he should have been following. Nice one … punching a suspect. The police will love that.

The days passed. The cut healed above Nick’s right ear, the bruising faded, the itching stopped. It seemed as if the police were doing nothing. Nick’s colleagues (apart from Janet) had become more comfortable around him again, talking without shame about other subjects, making jokes again. He was glad for it; they shouldn’t have to put their lives on hold.

The wedge between Janet and him grew wider, sunk deeper, pushing them apart. Now she only spoke to him when practicality demanded it. He didn’t blame her. He couldn’t.

Across the week, the incident at West Edge Country House gained local publicity. People were interested in the mystery surrounding it: an abduction in a hotel full of people—so many characters, so many suspects!—but nobody saw what happened … or did they? Nick could almost hear the DUN-DUN-DUUUUN! It frustrated him how much people were enjoying the source of his suffering. At one point, Alice Bicker almost blabbered about it in Creaky Crystals, but quickly realised it was in bad taste.

An update on the story was released in the local paper. Some members of the band Ahedayke-Ago-Go!, which had performed at the hotel, were discovered to be in possession of illegal substances. Suspicion landed on them because witnesses reported that a band member and three other youths, between a pause in the performance, had disappeared from the hall around the time of the abduction—apparently to get high in the toilets.

I wonder if Mr Hayworth is so proud of his son now, thought Nick, but he felt no better for it.

Apart from that revelation, there were no other developments. A reporter came to Nick’s house one day, but unsure of how the police were handling the media, Nick refused to talk and let the pest wait until he gave up and left.

He wanted so desperately to be proactive in finding Kerra, but struggled to think of ways to help. It was suffocating, feeling so useless. What he had managed to do was return to West Edge Country House a couple of times to check the surrounding area, trying to figure out where his girlfriend could have been taken.

His investigations were not particularly enlightening.

Mostly fields and old farmhouses made up the land closest to the hotel. East of it was Beade and north of it was Etherby, and also Willow. Because of nearby woodland and the picturesque views of Eradon Lake, there were holiday resorts northeast of the country house—caravan and lodge parks. The roads split off down many rural routes, and the only cameras Nick detected were in places with sudden drops in the speed limit. But these routes could easily be avoided. Whoever took Kerra could have used a vehicle to escape and then ended up anywhere on the island.

Both times Nick had searched the area, he’d begun to worry and had left after a while. It would have done no good being reported by someone, or caught looking suspicious.

And so he was no closer to finding Kerra.

With Beltane approaching, he saw more and more locals dressed for the festival. Youths decorated their bodies and walked topless around town. Women braided their hair, weaving in ribbons and blossoms, and adorning themselves with flower bracelets; some got temporary tattoos of fire, flames, and Celtic symbols. Men wore antlers and garlands. Nick had even seen a group of guys painted completely green.

Towards the end of the week, Tom told Nick he was going to visit their dad’s house and see if Tommy would be willing to talk. Then he planned on sleeping over at Michael’s because they were attending the Fire Festival on the weekend. ‘Will you be alright, Nick?’ he asked.

‘You don’t have to worry about me. I’m just waiting on an update from the police; I won’t do anything stupid.’ But even as he said it, Nick thought about the figure that had watched him in the snug the other night.

‘Okay. I’ll call you anyway and see how you’re getting on. If you find out anything more and you want to talk, then just let me know.’

Nick smiled and let his brother get on his way.

Since Kerra had been taken, Nick had realised just how much his friends and family cared. Fin called every day and visited as much as possible, a few old school friends had been in touch to offer support, Tom was always willing to talk and listen, and Nick’s dad had been in contact at least once a day. Back in his depression, it had been easy for him to feel lonely, but now it was obvious that he had only himself to blame: Everyone had been there for him, he had just never opened up to them.

The only person of significance who hadn’t reached out to him since Kerra’s abduction was Tommy. Well … maybe I haven’t supported him enough either, after what he did to Aldrich.

But Nick had tried. Both he and Tom had kept an eye on their brother at first, frequently asking how he was getting on, but Tommy had acted cooool about it, as if killing someone were no big deal. Nick thought it was because of their dad praising him for avenging their mother; maybe Tommy had latched on to that solace and didn’t want to let it go. After Christmas, though, when Tom announced his sexuality … he changed.

Because of full-time work and Tommy’s attitude towards Tom, Nick naturally saw him less and less. On top of that, allowing Tom to move in made it seem as if Nick had chosen sides.

Soon he would have to confront Tommy.

At work on Friday, Mora took her lunch break at the same time as Nick, as she often did, and they went to Deirdre’s together. The café had gotten into the Beltane spirit: bright flowers abounded, branches entwined up the walls, and a large plaque of the Green Man hung by the window behind Mora.

Mora was plainly soaking up the ambience. ‘This is my favourite time of year.’ She sighed happily. ‘I’ve been going for walks around Wood Park early every morning.’

Nick usually enjoyed this season too. ‘It’s nice.’

Across the table, Mora reached out her hand and put it on top of his. ‘I don’t know if I could hold it together the way you’re managing to.’ She squinted, creasing her skin. ‘You’ve been through a lot, and you don’t deserve what’s happened to you.’ She always knew the words to make him emotional, but he controlled himself, avoiding a reply and giving a slow shrug.

He believed Mora could hold it together if it were her, because she’d apparently had a difficult life herself. What she’d endured, Nick didn’t know, because his manager was reticent about personal matters, but Janet had hinted before that Mora’s extended family were handed more than their share of bad luck. Also, Mora had once had a long-term partner who was no longer around.

‘I have an idea, Nicolas.’ Mora’s face brightened. ‘You should come to our maypole dance at Wood Park. My coven are participating, and our Ritual Leader is going to be the May Queen.’

He’d met the Ritual Leader of Mora’s coven before; she was an … interesting woman. ‘I don’t know. Maybe.’

‘Oh, come on, I think you’ll enjoy yourself. And I’d love to have the company.’

With a short laugh, he said, ‘Your entire coven will be there, including Janet.’

Mora guffawed in her unashamed way. Everyone in the café turned to look at her, except one man with black hair, who was sitting alone. ‘Yeah, that’s true. But I would still love to have you there. The other coven members … they’re more excitable about these celebrations than I am. It would be nice to have someone less’—she paused to find the right word—‘attached there … like you.’

‘Okay, I’ll come along.’ He shrugged. He normally attended the Fire Festival every year, but it felt wrong this time around. It was a massive event, similar to the Edinburgh Beltane Fire Festival, and thousands of people attended, whether local or visiting the island. Being influenced by Celtic, Irish, and ancient Gaelic traditions, it didn’t appeal to all Pagans, but it did charm the general public with its modern elements and array of entertainment: acrobatics, dance, fire manipulation, theatre, art film, and music.

There was also a lot of nudity.

Many smaller celebrations took place across Lansin Island as well, some more Wiccan-based, and others Neopagan and varying greatly, reflecting the diversity of traditions held across Neopaganism.

‘Excellent.’ Mora grinned. ‘If you want to come early and help us set up, then would you be able to give me a lift?’ she asked sweetly.

‘Oh, I see why you invited me …’ Nick pulled a suspicious face.

‘Nicolas. You know that’s not the reason.’ Mora’s expression was serious. ‘But it would be a great help. I have loads of items I need to take with me, and Janet’s already promised to drive other members of our coven, so there’s no room for me.’

‘Just threaten to sack her if she doesn’t take you.’

Mora choked on her tea in amusement, then laughed loud and infectiously. The stares from other patrons made Nick momentarily uncomfortable, although everybody who looked seemed amused too. When Mora calmed down, she shook her head, smiling. ‘Nicolas! You are terrible.’

‘I was only joking. Of course I’ll give you a lift, and I might as well help set up.’

‘I know you were joking …’ Mora sighed, then gave her eyes to Nick. ‘You know Janet is really distraught that she can’t talk to you.’

Nick compressed his lips.

‘She’s always been fond of you, Nicolas, but she and’—Mora paused and seemed reluctant to continue—‘Kerra’s parents have been friends a long time. David has been extremely unfair, putting her in a hard place.’

‘I don’t blame her at all, Mora,’ he said honestly. ‘I’m not even that angry at Kerra’s dad. When Mum went missing, I wanted to blame someone ... anyone. Everybody I saw I suspected of being guilty somehow. And all that suspicion was also on me and my family. A lot of things were said and done that I’m sure everyone regrets.’

Mora appeared thoughtful.

A man stood up to leave Deirdre’s, and on his way he accidentally bumped into Mora’s shoulder. ‘Ah, sorry.’ He laughed both apologetically and energetically.

‘Ooooh … ’ Mora struggled to balance the cup of tea in her hand, its contents tilting back and forth. ‘No harm done,’ she replied, laughing more boisterously than he did. She looked up at the man with dark hair and smiled. Then her expression turned quizzical.

The guy nodded pleasantly before leaving.

‘I recognise that man from somewhere.’

Nick raised his eyebrows. ‘Oh?’ He twisted, but was too late to catch sight of him.

‘Ah!’ she chirped, ‘I know. He came into the store a few weeks ago, I believe. He spoke with Michael.’

That’s it! … The important thing someone had said recently. Michael had told him a man came into Creaky Crystals asking for him. After being given Nick’s name, the man said he’d find Nick on ‘Facebook or something.’ But nobody fitting the man’s description had been in contact since then. Black hair, pale skin …

Something else stood out to him now: This conversation with Michael had taken place just before the planned weekend away with Kerra.

Was it him? Nick had started to believe the curly-haired guy must have taken his girlfriend, and that something supernatural was involved … but who was this man with black hair? Why did he ask after Nick but then not contact him directly? And why was he here in the café today?

It would have been too suspicious to pursue the man now, and Nick didn’t want to worry Mora.

They discussed plans for May 1st until their lunch breaks were over.

Back at work, the incident at the café played in his mind. He tried to recall the face of the man who’d bumped into Mora, but he hadn’t gotten a good look. He would probably recognise the guy if he saw him again, but there was no way he could describe him now.

As work dragged on, Lucy approached him. ‘Oi, Mister Blister.’

‘Is that me?’

‘Well, I’m not talking to the dragon statue behind you, am I?’

Nick turned and gave a sympathetic look to the figurine for sale. Lucy giggled.

‘Okay …’ said Nick, ‘but why Mister Blister?’

‘Blister rhymes with mister. Obviously.’ She frowned at him as if he were slow to understand. ‘And I wanted to call you Mister.’

‘Fair enough.’

‘Precisely!’ She nodded. ‘Anyway, how are you getting on?’

Nick knew what she was really asking, and it was nice to have someone speak so casually about Kerra’s disappearance. Most people pussyfooted around the subject, and that annoyed him. Lucy had been awkward when she first found out, on the day David Evans accosted him; but, after a long and candid talk, she seemed to develop the attitude of ‘Shit happens, but let’s deal with it.’

‘There’s been no word from the police,’ said Nick. ‘But I’m hopeful.’

‘Yeah. You keep that hope. Something will show up soon. It has to.’

He smiled at her. ‘How’s your writing coming along?’ She’d explained to him before that she was an aspiring author, which was why she worked part time. Nick was kind of jealous that she was younger than him and already knew her aspirations in life.

‘Yeah … I’m deffo getting there, and as long as my parents let me bum off them for as long as possible, then I’ll keep at it.’

‘Cool. I’m glad to hear it.’

‘So many ideas come to me, though, and I’m like, Boom! That’s a bestseller! but I’m so wrapped up in the fantasy epic I’m writing, I can’t set aside the effort my other ideas deserve.’ She blended a huff and shrill squeal. Over the top. ‘I wish there were twenty of me; I would rock the literary world.’

‘Well, you’ve certainly got confidence.’ He laughed sheepishly. ‘Twenty Kooky Lucys … that would certainly be interesting.’

‘Why, thank you, young man.’ She bowed, displaying the brown roots in her bleach-blonde hair. ‘Anyway, what is it you want to do with your life? Career-wise.’

Nick delivered a miserable conversation killer. ‘I have no idea.’

‘Oh.’ She stared through her black-rimmed glasses, her posture uncomfortable to look at. ‘Well, you’re an exciting individual, aren’t you? Don’t go changing the world any time soon!’ She moved away quickly as if his apathy were contagious.

For the remainder of the shift, Nick mulled over his troubles, trying to find links between himself, the curly-haired man, the guy with black hair, and Kerra. All it resulted in was a splitting headache.

There was a moment when Janet asked him to serve a customer he hadn’t realised was waiting, and she spoke to him in her usual friendly way, as if there was no divide … but then Nick saw something click in her mind. After that, she treated him like a stranger again.

I hope things go back to normal when I find Kerra, he thought, and got on with the day.

That evening, he invited Fin over. On each recent visit, his best friend had encouraged him to bring on more visions.

Unfortunately, Nick had had zero success so far; he had not attained a single glimpse of the future since the one of Kerra limping towards him with arms outstretched. It was frustrating. When he had proved his ability to Fin, he’d managed to foresee multiple things without much effort. Now he reckoned the pressure was getting to him.

He missed his girlfriend so much that he didn’t want to think about her. Maybe that’s what’s stopping it from working. How can I expect to see results when I’m directing a vision at something I’m blocking out?

‘You can do this, buddy!’ Fin urged him on, and pumped a fist in the air like a hooligan.

‘Not when you’re distracting me like that, I can’t.’

Fin laughed. ‘Sorry, man. Thought I’d try a different approach.’

‘Thanks, but I’m trying a different approach anyway. I just need to focus.’

They were in the snug again, and Fin casually ate a cold slice of pizza from a delivery he’d ordered in earlier.

Eyes closed, Nick did his thing. Imagining the tree, the roots, the entwining … but this time he added emotion. He let his heart sadden in thought of Kerra, and then let his ability dive into that pain and use it for divination purposes. The vision took him.

His body felt young and small. He had no control, only watching through eyes. Where am I? The view turned. He saw little beds—not ones he’d ever owned, but the plain sort found in a hotel or apartment. Thin sheets.

High-pitched bickering came from the right. His eyes turned, and there he found Tom and Tommy, only boys, both wearing Manchester United football shirts.

Tommy’s arms were wrapped around a football. ‘You’re being the goalie!’ he shouted at Tom.

‘I was goalie last time,’ Tom protested.

‘You were rubbish, so you’ve got to be goalie again.’

Tom crossed his arms, sulking, and then turned to the eyes Nick was looking out of. ‘Nick … I was goalie last time, weren’t I? It’s his turn, isn’t it?’ The twins had shorts and trainers on below their football shirts, ready to go outside and play.

Go outside where? thought Nick’s adult awareness. Where am I?

‘I don’t care,’ Nick heard his own boyish voice. It hadn’t broken. ‘I’m playing a game.’ Looking down and away from the twins, he saw a Nintendo Game Boy Color in his hands, Pokémon Gold playing on its screen.

‘Ha-ha! You’re goalie!’ he heard Tommy yell, then saw both brothers scurry past and out of the room.

The memorable music of the Pokémon game played away while Nick watched his own little thumbs press the buttons. The character walked vertically, horizontally, vertically, through patches of virtual grass until there was a change in music, then flashing and swirling and a battle. Adult Nick was aware of his younger self’s immersion in the game.

But then footsteps entered the room. ‘Nicolas?’

He peered up from the screen. Mum? thought Adult Nick. ‘Mum?’ said Boy Nick.

Her hair was long and chocolaty, a bit poofy, and rested on her shoulders. The style was outdated, like her clothes; she wore light wash jeans, pulled up high, into which she’d tucked a baggy white blouse. Her brown eyes gazed at Nick. ‘Why don’t you play football with your brothers?’ Sadness welled in Nick’s older awareness at hearing her voice again.

‘I’m playing a game,’ he said petulantly. ‘I’m in a battle now.’

‘Can you save it?’

‘No, Mum. You don’t know anything. You can’t save in a fight.’

‘Okay. Well, how about after the fight? Save it, and then come outside and play.’

‘Why? I don’t even like football …’ Jesus, I was a brat, thought Adult Nick.

‘I’ve convinced your dad to play. We’ll put him in goal, and I might even have a go!’

The thought of that amused Boy Nick. ‘Maybe after this fight then ...’

His mum ruffled his hair. ‘We’ll see who can score the most goals, hey?’ She grinned before walking off.

When he looked back down, the battery ran out on the handheld game console … and Adult Nick’s vision ran out too.

‘Uhhh …’ He opened his eyes. ‘That was weird.’ The bulk and strength of his adult body seemed to suddenly enclose him. He squirmed at the sensation.

‘What? What did you see?’ Fin stared with a face of fascination.

‘I saw the past.’

CHAPTER TEN

HER FIRST DAY back at Chanton Hillview had been positive. She put the office back to how it used to be, and checked over all the paperwork to make sure she was on top of it. She spent some time with customers, building rapport, and seeing what they liked about the café and what they felt could be improved.

Towards closing time, though, she began to worry over her discussion with Roy.

Did Austin lie to me?

Back at home, she almost texted him to get to the bottom of it, but decided they should talk face-to-face. She called him and asked if he wanted to see her that evening. He said he was busy. Apparently he was amalgamating his research in preparation for his visit with his sister the next day. He wouldn’t be back until after Beltane celebrations were over.

Juliet felt mixed about it all, wanting to spend more time with him, yet also vaguely mistrusting him. And even though she feared he would return to Birmingham and stay there, she couldn’t exactly say anything to him without sounding clingy and desperate. Not that her words would stop him anyway.

As she tried to sleep that night, the thought of being lied to burnt into her, making her angrier than seemed normal. At first she didn’t know why it riled her so much, but then she realised why: She was being a massive hypocrite.

I’m lying to everyone. She’d always thought of lying as selfish; who gave anyone the right to keep the truth completely to themselves? But now she was unsure. My best friend is on holiday with a murderer. How could I keep that from her? She knew how. If she tried to split up Kim and Ryan, then Ryan would probably murder both her and Kim, and then maybe even tell the authorities the truth about Aldrich’s death. And that would put Nicolas and his brothers in jail. Their father had already lost his wife. Juliet didn’t want him to lose his sons too.

Memories of school friends came to her. It was through these friends that she’d developed her opinions on selfishness. There were the ones she had before her parents won the lottery, the ones who came after, and the ones she had throughout—like Kim. Once her mum and dad came into wealth, some friends began doing more for her. It was great at first, and Juliet had actually believed they were doing these things altruistically. But before she knew it they began using these ‘favours’ against her, expecting things in return. Expensive things.

Kim was the only one who never put a price on her friendship. She was the same before and after Juliet’s family came into money. Although she liked to tease her about her wealth, specifying things Juliet should treat them both to (usually alcohol, nights in, days out, and shopping sprees), she never truly expected anything. She was one of the most unselfish people Juliet knew. And this is how I repay her.

She tossed and turned. A thought came to her—one that had visited her many times over the months: Had she been selfish in cutting off contact with Nicolas? When she’d told him she never wanted to see him again, it had felt both right and wrong. Nicolas had saved her life, and for that alone she’d always feel something towards him. He’d also believed she was telling the truth about seeing spirits, as crazy as she must have sounded.

Murder was the problem though; of all things she’d been confident she could face in life, witnessing a murder had not been one of them. She realised now that her reaction, making the deal with Ryan and then ditching the Crystan boys, had all been instinctual, simply her running away from a situation she had no confidence in handling.

She fell asleep tormented by the notion that she could have dealt with everything better, and in her sleep, she dreamt. In a wet and warm place, she walked on mushy ground. It was dark, but light enough to see Tommy Crystan approaching. He handed her a knife. ‘You do it,’ he said, better spoken than in reality.

‘Do what?’ Her voice echoed, giving her a murky sense of her surroundings.

Tommy pointed to a man lying down. Ryan. And for some reason, Juliet moved towards him with murderous intent. She thrust the blade forward, but Ryan transformed into Kim just as the weapon sank deep. With her best friend dead on the ground, Juliet stepped back, turning to find Tommy. He was gone. Instead she found Nicolas with a disappointed look on his face.

‘I never want to see you again,’ he said, and slunk into darkness.

When she looked back to where Kim was meant to be, she found Lillian in her place, not dead, but gravely ill. She wanted to run to her gran, but she couldn’t. Her limbs were under someone else’s control. She gazed up to discover she was a marionette, and that her mother held the strings. Evelyn Maystone laughed down from above while Juliet’s dad cycled frantically on a machine that somehow gave power to the puppet strings.

‘Mum,’ pleaded Juliet. ‘This is my life.’ But even her voice was under manipulation. She couldn’t speak. She tried harder to talk to her parents, but to no avail. Eventually she realised the dark place she stood inside was her own mouth. Her perspective zoomed out and her teeth began to crumble.

She desperately struggled to catch the fragments, to force them back into her gums, but more teeth shattered and fell away. The dream had a hopelessness to it that gave her lucidity. Wake up, she thought. Then a bright light appeared: the bobbing fairy-like thing that had led her to Aldrich’s portal. It floated towards her, growing larger on its way, and then expanded into a complete whiteness that woke her.

Light gushed in through her bedroom window, though it wasn’t sunny; the morning sky wore a bright blanket of clouds.

She shivered. The nightmare of her teeth falling out was a recurring one these past months, along with dreams of Aldrich’s blood-soaked corpse, but the other elements she’d endured were new.

Aiming to get back to her usual self, she went for a jog along the cliff edge instead of in her personal gym. She did it purely for enjoyment. It didn’t wear her out in the slightest, but she savoured the feeling of her limbs in action. Near the end of her run, she had a moment where she remembered her nightmare. Her focus slipped and she felt the proximity of spirits. She had to stop, close her eyes, and regain her focus.

With her mental wall back up, she headed home, feeling less sure of herself. She made an effort to avoid people she saw on the way, and managed to collect herself by the time she got back.

In her house, she considered practising more self-defence, but a sudden realisation hit her. Believing she needed to defend herself was an essentially negative thought. And she liked to be positive. It was good that she knew the basics now, but if she got into the mindset of expecting peril around every corner, then wasn’t she just asking for danger? She thought of her gran’s perspective on the matter: I try not to do bad to others, and I’ve never been attacked in all my years. I like to think that’s how it works.

And so Juliet mentally cut the routine out of her future.

After breakfast with her gran, she left early for work. She wanted to experiment with something. She made her way to the High Street, where her café was situated on a road that branched off and ascended slightly, allowing the view of the hills to the north.

Chanton wasn’t a particularly large town, but it was the most upper-class place to live on Lansin Island. Almost all the shops were on one long main street near the tip of Chanton, and along the way there were side roads with mostly independent stores, little quirky ones that sold arts and crafts.

Juliet stopped and stood still, gazing up the High Street. Thinking of her sessions with Tamara, she tried switching on and off her mental wall, alert and ready to spot the spirits that might appear. If I can do this, take complete control, then I can be confident around others again … confident that spirits won’t distract me and make me appear odd.

With her guard down, a twitch in the air came at her side. A man walked by. His shimmering aura gave away what he was. Closing her eyes, she thought, I believe in my ability, I believe in what I can do. And the spirit was gone when her lids lifted open.

Excited by her success, she did it again. This time she only saw spirits in the distance, one dawdling near a shop entrance, and another standing motionless in the middle of the road. Then she blocked them out.

A man with a Jack Russell walked past, and the little dog gave a cautious growl to Juliet. The owner looked at her warily, as if he trusted his terrier’s instincts over anything else. Juliet realised she must have looked weird, standing at the end of the street, opening and closing her eyes and smiling to herself, and so she moved on.

Heading to Chanton Hillview, she considered the issue that needed addressing today. At least now she was one hundred percent sure that no spirits could surprise her during her handling of the problem. And that was good, because talking to Sandra would be difficult enough as it was.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

THE MORNING OF May first, Nick cooked breakfast for himself while on the phone to Tom, his mobile pressed between his shoulder and ear. ‘Hey, did you have a good time last night?’ he asked, the smell of bacon drawing saliva into his mouth.

He missed preparing breakfast for Kerra. They’d always taken it in turns.

‘It was as awesome as always.’ Tom’s grin could be heard in his voice. Both he and Michael had attended the Fire Festival the night before, and then went back to Michael’s house rather than stay at Nick’s. This time Nick wouldn’t have minded so much if Tom had brought Michael over, because he wanted to ask his colleague about the conversation with the black-haired man.

‘But …’ Tom’s tone turned sour, as if he had a bad taste in his mouth. ‘I did see more boobs than I ever cared to see in my life!’

‘Oh, God’—Nick dragged out his voice sarcastically—‘poor you! How did you cope?’

Tom was silent on the other end for a moment, probably not impressed.

‘I was only joking, Tom …’

‘Hmmm. Well, you’re about as funny as a lamp post.’

Nick laughed at that, his brother joining in shortly afterwards. Tom had an endless amount of ‘You’re about as funny as ____’ jokes, and Nick was always interested to hear how his brother filled in the blank. ‘Thanks, Tom. Thanks a lot.’

It was a quietly horrible moment; cracking jokes so easily, Nick realised he was getting used to Kerra not being around. And that was not okay. Maybe being miserable and mopey wouldn’t help to find her, but making jokes and getting cosy in her absence didn’t feel right either. He couldn’t even imagine the type of place or conditions his girlfriend might be in, while he stood here cooking breakfast and laughing with his brother on the phone.

‘That’s alright,’ said Tom. ‘There was another crappy thing about the festival. You know they usually have a fireworks display?’

Nick nodded, his mobile whacking him in the ear uncomfortably. ‘Yeah,’ he said.

‘It wasn’t as good as usual. One of the actors told us all over a microphone that a load of the fireworks had been stolen.’

‘That sucks.’

‘Yep. I don’t know why someone would want to ruin it for everyone else.’

Not wanting more negativity, Nick struggled for a response. He was keeping himself together, and thinking about thieves and selfish people might send him into dark thoughts about all the immoral people out there. After dishing up breakfast, he sat down with it. ‘I’m sure it didn’t spoil the night too much.’

‘No, not for most people.’ Tom laughed. ‘You don’t even want to know the amount of couples Michael and I caught a-Maying!’

Nick huffed in light amusement. ‘You’re right. I don’t.’ Kerra and I might have liked to go a-Maying … he considered, thinking of his girlfriend’s adventurous side. ‘Anyway, I’m about to eat breakfast before it goes cold, but you haven’t told me how it went the other day … when you went to Dad’s house.’

The line was quiet for a bit, and then a sigh came through. ‘Well, it wasn’t great,’ said Tom. ‘When I got there, Dad and Tommy were both downstairs, and Tommy saw me but didn’t say a thing. He wouldn’t even come near me. Then Dad and I started talking, having a catch-up, and as soon as I was out the way of the hallway, Tommy walked straight down it and then upstairs. He stayed up there until I left.’

Nick’s heart sank. ‘This is really getting out of hand. If he keeps it up like this, then before we know it he will have gone a whole year without talking to you! It’s ridiculous.’

‘I know. But he’s plainly not interested in working things out.’

‘Ughhh,’ Nick grumbled. ‘I’ll go talk to him this week.’

‘I can’t believe he hasn’t spoken to you about what’s happened …’

After sighing, Nick said, ‘Well, something’s obviously up with him. I thought he was just annoyed at you before, and only a little annoyed at me for letting you move in. Maybe he thought I was picking sides or something. But now I actually think he’s pissed off at me for some other reason.’

‘I don’t know why. He was fine with you before I came out. And we both watched over him after … what he did.’

Nick was glad his brother didn’t mention the murder over the phone. For all he knew, Detective Talwar could be listening in. Though he doubted it. ‘Anyway,’ he said, and eyed the steam rising from his food. ‘I’ll talk to him, try find out what the problem is. I’m going to eat now, so I’ll speak to you later.’

‘Alright. Take care.’

It was a dreary day for the maypole dance, cold and overcast, but Nick was sure it wouldn’t affect the coven’s enthusiasm. After breakfast, he donned dark skinny jeans, black winklepickers, and a plain green jumper with an old jacket he’d had for years over the top.

With a glance in the mirror before he left, he wondered if chinos would suit him. Already, he had decided 2012 was the year of the Queen’s Diamond Jubilee, the London Olympic Games, and chinos. Everybody was wearing chinos. And all anyone talked about on television were the upcoming Jubilee and the Olympics. Shame Nick didn’t care for either.

I’ll stick with my skinnies, I think. With trousers on the mind, he remembered the vision he’d had the other night while Fin was over … Those light wash jeans his mother had worn. The experience made no sense. He couldn’t figure out if it was something that had actually happened or not, as he didn’t recall the memory. But it must have happened; it felt as real as his visions usually did.

Seeing his mum again, as if she were alive, was both sad and amazing. Could he direct his power into the past to see her again? It was annoying that he’d tried so hard to bring on a premonition that would lead him to Kerra, only to end up in a pointless memory of years gone by.

Where did it take place? In the vision there were ‘holiday beds,’ as he thought of them, the type provided in basic apartments or mobile homes. And the Pokémon game narrowed down the date a bit. But then, Nick’s family used to go on a lot of vacations: abroad once or twice a year, but also around the UK for caravan holidays or camping trips as much as possible. It could have been one of many places we stayed in.

Seeing little value in it, he gave up trying to find the memory’s origin.

He drove north, to the other side of town, where Mora lived. After parking outside her house, he rang her mobile to let her know he’d arrived and walked up to the door.

Mora’s house was Victorian style, attached to a row of houses all built the same. It was large, considering she lived alone, and had been subtly decorated with flowers, plants, and a few Pagan symbols, giving the otherwise ordinary house a distinctive earthy feel. It was very much like Mora was with her faith: humble, reserved.

When she answered the door, she handed a big sealed box to Nick. It was heavier than he was expecting and hurt his back at first. He trod carefully to the car and had to flatten out the backseats to fit the box in through the boot. Returning to the front door, he found Mora dressed in a plain, full-length green robe. Flower clips were worked into her short hair. Nothing over the top. ‘Ready to go.’ She smiled brightly, a large bag of items in one hand.

Nick drove to Wood Park, hoping the sky would brighten by the time they arrived, but when he parked and stepped out of the car, the day was greyer than before. He collected the box from the back of his Vauxhall Corsa and followed Mora.

A thin, straight tree trunk with branches sawed off was wedged into the earth and stood only a few feet taller than Nick. Ribbons, waiting to be assigned dancers, hung from the trunk in the miserable weather, and a crowd of people huddled expectantly around the pole.

With the maypole already set up, there wasn’t much for Nick to help out with. In the box he’d carried there were costumes and pipes and handheld drums and tambourines and garlands. Mora had also packed a selection of homemade foods, which Nick eyed hungrily, imagining how quickly the treats would disappear.

While Mora conversed with her coven members, Nick plodded about awkwardly and only talked to the occasional person. The coven probably weren’t too keen on him since they’d tried to initiate him once, but he’d copped out after realising they welcomed people into their group skyclad—naked.

At first, Nick didn’t acknowledge the presence of Janet Morgan or her family. There were a lot of people, so they must have been busy integrating, but eventually he caught Janet’s eyes. She looked away fast. Nick smiled to himself regretfully.

Janet had gone all out on her outfit. Ribbons were weaved into her hair and dangled down to her billowing floral skirt, her face was decorated with swirls and bright colours, and her whole body was adorned with more jewellery than it seemed safe to wear. Her three children, two boys and one girl (who came into Creaky Crystals with their dad occasionally and begged their parents for new dragon and fairy statues), were also dressed in Wiccan wear. Janet’s husband was not a follower of the religion and wore plain clothes. He grinned cheerfully, though, getting involved.

Looking around, Nick was interested to see the variety of people and the contrast between those who’d made a big effort, like painting their faces green and making their own costumes, and those who either weren’t religious or had made a more subtle effort, like Mora had.

Nick was expecting to stand out in his dull clothes, like a pigeon among peacocks, but he felt comfortably invisible.

Staying close to his manager, he helped to erect the stage where the coven planned to perform a show after the dance. When all the setting up was done, The Ritual Leader, dressed as the May Queen, was suddenly picked up by a man costumed as the Green Man. He took her to the maypole and lifted her while she stretched to put a garland over the head of the trunk. Not hard to guess what that symbolises … thought Nick, being a bit of a prude, as the crowd cheered and clapped.

Soon after, all the ribbons were taken up by men, women, adults, and children. The Ritual Leader, now back on her feet, gave a countdown. Then the music began.

It sounded like a lower school music class led by a teacher clapping the beat. Pipes shrilled, tambourines jingled, and drums were hit in a developing rhythm. Nick avoided the instruments when they were handed out, and now stood back watching the event.

The last time he’d attended a maypole dance was at lower school, and he’d joined in, merrily weaving his ribbon under and over his friends’ colourful threads. But at that age he hadn’t realised the giant pole he skipped around was a phallic symbol.

Clapping. Cheering. Wooing. Laughing. It went on and on. Nick watched the spectacle, fascinated. It looked like a rainbow that had been torn apart and was now being pulled back together, remade with a new pattern. The crowd urged the dancers on, some of them recording the festival on their mobile phones, gently swaying to the improvised music.

With his eyes resting on the show, Nick began to feel entranced. It was hypnotic, like the state that brought on his premonitions ... the tree growing out of him, roots and branches entwining with the world.

Seeing the ribbons coming together, mixing their colours and becoming part of a whole, relaxed him until he felt isolated yet connected, as if he could see beyond his present location, see anything he wanted, in any place or any time—if only he could effectively direct his consciousness.

His eyelids gradually slipped down.

There was screaming and commotion. Bodies jostled past. They rushed. Towards something? Away from something? He heard Mora. ‘Quickly, Nicolas!’ Her voice was breathy, panicked.

A smell occupied the air. Gunpowder. And the taste of smoke ran into Nick’s mouth, irritating his throat, drying out his tongue. He coughed as it itched his eyes and squinted to see Mora. Something glinted below him, a silver food tray, upside down on the ground.

Pop! From behind came crackling, sudden bangs, squealing. Pop-pop! Peee-yewww!

Turning to find Mora, he saw something shoot towards her. It struck her in the ribs, and a flash of blood splattered out. The missile rebounded and flew off to one side, before exploding in a deafening cloud of colours and sparkles.

Nick ran to his manager, her cries as loud as the ringing in his ears. He saw her clutching an open wound on her side. Blood trickled to the ground, the red at contrast with the green grass.

She was alive, but badly injured, and something buzzed in Nick’s mind ... I have to get her up, we have to get away... but he didn’t know what he was eager to distance himself from.

He twisted to see more, to figure it out, but all he saw was smoke and flashes of light.

He sucked in air. A vision? The music went on. The dancers were almost finished now, so close to the pole that they tripped over one another as they weaved their ribbons lower and lower.

The May Queen stopped and inspected the rainbow-coloured tree trunk, then threw her arms up with an excited squeal. A declaration that it was done. Everybody cheered, some dancing in joy, while the ones with drums gave an exaggerated drumroll.

Nick saw Mora smiling; a sense of dread made him queasy. His manager came over and stood by his side while the group of Pagans stood around the pole, reaching to touch it, worship it.

As he watched, a seagull appeared in the sky, camouflaged at first by the murky clouds, and flew down to land on top of the maypole. It tilted its head, trained one of its yellow-rimmed black eyes on him, then squawked. Before it took off, it screeched some more and flapped its wings manically.

What is it doing?

He looked around, wondering what had spooked the bird. Then he spotted it. Speeding across the park was a silver car, tearing up the grass. The crowd hadn’t noticed it because of all the cheering and celebrating, but it headed straight for them.

‘Move!’ Nick shouted, waving his arms for attention. Hardly anybody heard him.

Mora grabbed his elbow. ‘Nicolas, what’s the matter?’

People nearby gave looks as if he were wrecking the fun, but when he pointed towards the car, they began to panic. One woman shrieked. A few men started shouting things like, ‘Quick! Get out the way!’

The throng of Pagans near the maypole flicked their heads about confusedly, then scattered and ran as they figured out the situation.

Mora … Keep an eye on Mora, thought Nick, but already he’d become separated from her. People shoved past. The roar of the vehicle grew louder.

With a loud crack, the car ploughed through a table the coven had set up as a small buffet. Food flew everywhere. Oatcakes splayed out, cookies showered down, and a silver tray was flung through the air before landing by Nick.

This is it. He watched the car, noticing the back of it was stuffed with items, though he couldn’t tell what. It slowed down a little just before crashing into the maypole. The trunk snapped instantly and thwacked against the earth. The car came to a stop.

There was a man dressed all in black inside the vehicle, and he leaned towards the backseats. Nick could see an orange flicker, glowing brighter, going out, then brightening again and again. Then he realised what the car was stuffed with: fireworks.

‘Quickly, Nicolas!’ Mora’s voice trembled at a distance.

The man in black tumbled out of the vehicle. As he tried to run, there was a boom. Fire leapt up his sleeve. He batted at his arm while he hurried away. Even as he darted off he kept turning back, seemingly to observe Nick. But his face was covered in a balaclava. Some men who’d been involved in the maypole dance tried out their bravery, attempting to apprehend the man in black, but they were too slow and were taken off guard by mini explosions.

Gunpowder tinged the air—Pop!—smoke frothed out of the glowing car—Pop-pop!—and Nick recognised the moment. Peee-yewww! Turning to find Mora, he scooped up the metal tray and dashed towards her.

Hearing the firework take off, knowing he wouldn’t reach his manager in time, he stretched the tray out. The missile smashed into it, throwing the tray from his hand, then careened off and exploded at least twenty metres away. Mora stood frozen. The expression on her face revealed that her life had flashed before her eyes.

The explosions left Nick’s ears ringing. He hurried over to Mora, grabbed her arm, and urged her towards safety. They ran a long way together, and Nick tried to look back to see the man in black, but all he saw was smoke crawling across the park.

Mora shouted the name of the Ritual Leader, and after a while Nick found himself in a group consisting of the coven and other Pagans who’d attended the dance. As far as he could tell, no one was missing or had been injured. Janet Morgan was with her husband, and together they held their kids close. Both had thankful gleams in their eyes.

Other people had already taken the initiative to call the police. As Nick waited, he panicked over interfering with what he’d foreseen. The last time he had done that, Juliet ended up displaced, and then a few days later a woman fell to her death exactly where Juliet was meant to hit the ground. Nick still didn’t know why that had happened; Juliet had spoken with the ghost of this woman and was going to tell him about it, but she hadn’t gotten the chance.

Does Mora have a fate? Did I change it? In the vision, Mora had only been injured, not killed. So with any luck she hadn’t become displaced. Will there be other side effects?

The question that really played on Nick, though, wasn’t related to the premonition at all. After everything that had happened, and now this, he began to wonder, Was this a targeted attack?

Then, in the distance, the car itself exploded. The ground shook.

CHAPTER TWELVE

AUSTIN. SHE NEEDED to talk to him. The discrepancy between his version of events and Roy’s had grown its own life inside her head. As much as she tried to put faith in him and wanted to believe he hadn’t lied, her doubts were expanding.

Any minute now he’d arrive. Better to talk sooner than later.

He’d already warned her he couldn’t stay long, because he had to continue his research. He would only pop by for a chat and to see her. Hopefully, all Juliet needed was a short talk to get to the bottom of it. But she didn’t want to slap the subject in his face; she would have to ease into it, after they said their hellos.

A flutter began in her stomach as she imagined kissing him—something to look forward to after her stressful morning.

Lillian had woken in pain again. Even though she’d promised to seek help this time, it still took some convincing to make her book an appointment with the surgery. The only available slots were in the afternoon, and so that’s where she was now. Juliet had wanted to go with her gran, but Lillian said, ‘No, sweetheart, don’t you worry yourself. I’ll ask Susan along. Being an oldie like me, she’ll understand whatever the problem is, and I won’t be so embarrassed.’ She laughed warmly. ‘Oh! But don’t tell Susan I called her an oldie.’ In her genuine way, she had hooted some more.

As guilty as Juliet felt, she also felt some relief at having the house to herself. It wasn’t like she wanted her gran to move out. She didn’t. But when she was alone at home, she was in control of how everything was maintained; her mental checklist of tasks stayed the same until she completed a chore herself. She wouldn’t go to do the ironing, only to find it had already been done, and then have to unexpectedly (and frustratingly) adjust her mental checklist and try to pick an alternative way to be productive with that time.

To her annoyance, she hadn’t gotten the chance to talk to Sandra during her week back at work. Sandra had called in sick every day, ruining her previously perfect attendance record. But because it would have been unprofessional to discuss the matter over the phone, Juliet planned on waiting for her employee’s return. She found it odd, though, that Sandra had fallen sick on what was meant to be her first day back with Juliet.

To pass the time, Juliet went about cleaning the house. Even though Lillian kept everything spotless, Juliet ruthlessly inspected and attacked every nook and cranny. She began to feel more like her usual self again; the argument with her mother had forced a new resolve in her. Before, she’d hoped there would be an explanation for their actions. Some big reason for why she was lied to. But now they’d blown their chance. It had been easy to deny her parents’ lack of interest in her life while they were in Spain and she was busy-busy-busy in Chanton.

If her parents wanted inclusion in her life now, then they would need to change their ways. Juliet nodded to the clock she’d picked up, intending to wipe the underneath of it, as if it had made the suggestion and she was simply agreeing.

When Austin arrived, he looked so handsome that Juliet almost forgot her concerns. She had an urge to touch his unruly black hair.

‘Well, hello, gorgeous,’ said Austin, in a comically sultry voice.

To hide her blush, Juliet kissed him. ‘Hello, handsome.’ She tried to play along … but it felt odd. ‘I know you’ve not got much time, so let’s just talk in the kitchen.’

‘Fine by me.’

Juliet led the way. One half of the kitchen had black granite worktops, cream cabinets, and an island in the middle, all proudly supported by a floor tiled in natural stone. The other half was a dining area with a long rectangular table, a wine rack that covered half a wall, and a brown sofa placed casually in the corner. The window by the sink looked out onto the decking, the hot tub, and the seemingly interminable garden. Natural light flooded in.

Juliet moved close to Austin. She kissed him again, feeling optimistic. It must just be a misunderstanding. As she pulled away, she put a hand on his forearm. He recoiled and sucked in a breath through his full lips, which had tightened up.

‘Are you hurt?’

‘Huh?’ He looked down at his wrist. ‘No, I just—’

‘Show me.’ She grabbed his hand and pulled back the sleeve. A bandage covered most of his arm, and bright red skin surrounded it. ‘You have hurt yourself. It looks like a burn ...’

Austin’s expression was anxious. Excuses seemed to skitter around behind his eyes as he mentally evaluated their believability.

What’s he trying to hide? And why? Then Juliet recalled a story she’d seen on the news that morning. ‘The explosion at that maypole dance … Were you there?’

Austin’s flittering excuses must have been weak, because he shrugged and said, ‘Yeah ... I thought I’d check it out ... and, you know, when all the drama went down, I tried to put the fire out. Like, with everyth—’

‘You told me you’d be in Birmingham.’ She stepped away from him. ‘Seeing your sister.’

‘She cancelled on me.’

‘Right,’ she said noncommittally, and locked her eyes on him. ‘But why didn’t you tell me that? And why didn’t you talk to me about the maypole dance? I would have gone with you if you’d wanted.’

‘Errh, I don’t know.’ He laughed. ‘I didn’t think you were into all that stuff, you know?’

Juliet didn’t buy that for a second. She gave him a look that could only be read as: ‘Here’s your chance to tell the truth.’

‘Alright,’ he whined, as if she’d been badgering him for years. ‘I need to talk to you anyway … I suppose it’s about time I told you.’

That was not a good line. ‘Told me what?’ She straightened her back.

‘You’ve been feeling different lately, yeah? Like, full of energy ... and you’ve been looking better and better, feeling healthier and healthier. Haven’t you?’

How does he know this? A frown took over her face. ‘Why?’ The sensation coming over her felt like someone slowly covering her head, suffocating her. All this time, Austin had hidden that he’d known this. He’d known her biggest secret. But she couldn’t jump to conclusions just yet and assume his intentions were bad. Not after her affection for him had grown ... and his for her? ‘Do you know what’s happening to me?’

‘Same thing that’s happening to me.’ His tone perked up. ‘You’re soulless … So am I.’

Having experienced what she had, she automatically believed him. How would Austin have known what she was going through otherwise?

Spontaneously, she moved towards him. ‘How? How did you become soulless?’ Then she remembered caution, stopped, and regained her distance, careful to make it appear casual. And how did you find out about me? was the question she didn’t yet dare to ask aloud.

‘A sort of near-death experience …’ Austin said unconvincingly. ‘I don’t really want to talk about it. You know? It wasn’t nice.’

‘Okay, sure.’ She thought over the best way to handle the conversation. There were things she needed to know, and accusing him of lying would stop her from discovering them. ‘But what is actually happening to me? Why do I feel healthier? Why do I seem to heal faster?’

He smiled in a mischievous, inclusive way, as if they were in a secret club together and discussing classified information. ‘You haven’t figured it out, have you? We are immortal. We’re permanently self-actualising.’

The laugh that burst out of her was like one of Austin’s: sudden, uncontrolled. But as crazy as Austin’s words sounded, something in them rang true. Whenever Juliet saw her reflection now, she thought she appeared younger than a year ago. Was that because of her improving health? If it was constantly getting better, then could she ever become ill? Could she age?

‘Immortal?’ She huffed weakly.

‘Yeah. Souls are what age people. The soul wants to move on to its next existence, so it kind of pulls on the person, ageing them. So when they die, the soul is released and is free to go on to its next experience.’ He shrugged. ‘But we don’t have souls. We are pure life. And life is always self-actualising.’

This was a ‘Tamara moment.’ Just like when the witch had explained why Juliet could see ghosts, this explanation was hard to swallow. Very hard. ‘I think I need a moment.’ She walked around the kitchen’s island, then rested against the worktop on the opposite side of the room.

The kettle was in her periphery and reminded her that Lillian would hopefully be back from the surgery soon. She switched it on, boiling the water for her gran’s return. She almost began shuffling items about, tidying for the sake of it, but realised what she was doing. Avoiding the problem at hand. ‘So do you ...?’

‘See ghosts? Yeah.’

She stared at him, astonished. ‘Can you control it? Have you learnt to block them out?’

Austin guffawed. ‘I’ve learnt to do a lot more than that. You don’t know half the things you can do with your power.’

I’m not sure I want to know.

The expression on Austin’s face was disconcerting. An eerie hunger filled his eyes, a voracious glint that looked ruthless. He went on to say, ‘You know we can summon them, right? We can force them to come to us.’ Holding his hands out to his sides, he added, ‘How cool is that?’

Alarm bells started clanging in Juliet’s head; her focus slipped, and an ache seeped from behind her eyes to every part of her skull. She hadn’t experienced a headache in months, but this back and forth of Who is he? What does he want with me? and Why don’t you trust him? Just give him a chance! was tearing her mind in two.

‘I spoke with Roy the other day, from the café,’ she began. Now was the time. ‘He said when you came into Chanton Hillview, you asked for me by my full name.’

‘Yeah?’

‘That’s not what you told me. I thought you asked to see the manager.’

‘Well, yeah, you are the manager, aren’t you?’ He shook his head theatrically. ‘Look’—his tone turned heavy—‘what is this all about?’

‘How did you know my name?’

‘Juliet ...’

‘How?’

The water boiled and bubbled in the kettle behind her. Louder. Louder.

‘I found your name in a directory when I was doing my research.’

She went motionless. The lies hurt—and she was certain he was lying. ‘You told me you only noticed my café that day.’

‘Well I checked on my phone, then! I saw your café, I stood outside, and I searched for your details on my phone!’ He said it all as if he didn’t care whether she believed him or not. ‘What is the matter with you?’

She began to edge towards the exit, but Austin slowly did so as well, until her path was blocked. A knife set was on the surface behind him, easily within his reach.

Where’s my personal alarm? Juliet’s hands slapped over her pockets, feeling desperately for her keys. ‘Who are you?’

Austin’s eyes scrutinised her, making her feel worthless ... or worth only whatever he decided.

‘Who are you?!’

Sighing a massive sigh, Austin shook his head disapprovingly. ‘You really should have stopped asking questions.’

The switch on the kettle flicked up—click—as Austin reached into a pocket in the inside of his jacket. What he revealed looked like a pruning saw, curved like a boomerang, and its handle was black rubber. Though, unlike most gardening saws, it was double-bladed, each blade deeply serrated and running parallel on the same side of the weapon.

Juliet’s body locked. Aldrich. Tommy. Images of the ancient-looking knife sticking out of Aldrich’s chest blindsided her, leaping in front of her eyes. Quick. I have to be quick. She turned and grabbed the kettle, then launched it forwards over the granite-topped island. Water slung out, soaking the ceiling, the walls, the floor.

Steam rose.

Austin dodged the projectile. It crashed into a vase of fresh flowers, smashing the pot to pieces.

After seeing the look on Austin’s face, Juliet darted out of the kitchen. She got into the hall that led to the downstairs living room and ran, not daring to look back. At an awkward corner she tried to turn, but Austin shoved her hard in the back. Air flew out of her chest as she struck the wall.

She saw the double-bladed weapon rise in front of her. Austin’s intent beamed from his eyes. His chocolate-coloured eyes. Just in time, Juliet flung her head aside. The weapon that had been aimed at her face wedged into the wall behind her, impaling the empty schedule that hung there.

Trying to yank the blades free with one hand, Austin used the other to grip her by the throat. He squeezed, making her eyes water, pinning her against the wall.

Self-defence. Come on! What did I learn? … Her knee flew up to his groin, connected. The thud against his pubic bone was dull and sudden. He arched forward so fast that he head-butted her shoulder, but before his grip weakened he managed to throw her to the ground.

By the time Juliet got up and peered towards the front door in hope, Austin had stumbled his way to the front of the house, having wrenched his weapon free. He stood clutching his groin, wincing, and brandished the double-bladed knife out to one side.

Where did I leave them? Juliet’s personal alarm was attached to her set of keys, which would be in one of a few select places; being a neat freak, she always put objects in set locations, which meant she rarely misplaced them. With eyes glued to Austin, she edged backwards towards the kitchen. She pivoted and sprinted up the hall.

No sounds followed her. She twisted to look over her shoulder, but Austin hadn’t pursued.

The keys were in a small wicker dish she chucked commonly used items in, like jewellery, loose change, her mobile, or whatever she emptied from her pockets while at home.

Her eyes flicked to the back door. She could escape through there. Jump the garden fence and run. For a split second she considered doing it …

But this was her house. And she had the upper hand now.

As she crept back towards the entrance of her home, a keenness coursed through her, like when she exercised. Where is this courage coming from? Her limbs yearned for the movement, craved the challenge. The headache she’d suffered a moment ago was completely gone, replaced by clear thoughts and clear intentions.

Permanently self-actualising.

Austin was in the same spot she’d left him, but his face was turned towards a window that showed the front garden. He jumped behind cover and waited by the hinges of the front door. Not understanding, Juliet frowned at him.

He gave a triumphant smile.

Jingling, rattling, and the front door slowly glided open, with Austin hidden behind it.

Lillian came in cheerfully. ‘Oh, hello, sweetheart,’ she said, before noticing Juliet’s expression. Her features screwed up. ‘Are you—’

She didn’t finish her sentence. It turned into a short yelp as Austin grabbed her from behind and put the weapon’s blades against her neck.

‘No!’ shrieked Juliet. The terror in her gran’s face was one of the worst things she’d ever seen: Lillian had gone pale and her eyes stretched open, desperately trying to look down at the object pressed against her throat. Austin guided her closer to the living room, using her like a shield.

A twisted smirk creased his face.

‘You hurt her and I’ll set off this alarm.’ Juliet waved it at him. ‘The whole street will hear it!’

At her threat, Austin’s nostrils flared and his teeth clenched. He glared. Juliet could see the indecision roll around his mind. For the most awful second of her life, she panicked that her threat wouldn’t work. The truth was she didn’t believe any of her neighbours would hear the alarm anyway. And if they did, she doubted they’d respond.

‘Fine! But you drop this!’ Austin commanded. ‘Don’t come looking for me.’ He drew back the knife so fast, Juliet feared he’d slashed her gran’s throat. But Lillian was okay. At least she was, until Austin shoved her. She stumbled, fell, and met the living room table with her hip. Juliet lurched instinctively to catch her, but was too far away to make it in time.

‘If you call the police, I’ll tell them what you’re guilty of!’ Austin shouted at Juliet. It was hard to hear him over Lillian’s wailing. ‘I’ll tell them about Aldrich!’ he yelled, then hurried out of the house.

How does he know? Juliet pulled out her mobile and called for an ambulance. She had to momentarily leave her gran so she could talk in the hallway, where the emergency service would hear her over Lillian’s cries of agony.

When she hung up, she rushed back. ‘Gran?’ her voice came out fragile. Lillian just kept crying. Then she vomited. Juliet didn’t want to move her gran and worsen the injury, but she was forced to smack her on the back when she began to choke on sick.

Juliet half wanted to cry … but Gran, Gran... She waited by her, and waited, and waited.

Austin can see spirits. Did Aldrich appear to him? No, Aldrich didn’t leave a ghost … I would have seen it after Tommy murdered him. He would have haunted me. She worried some more before she realised it was selfish to think of her problems right now. ‘They’ll be here soon, Gran,’ she mumbled.

Lillian stared fixedly at nothing, as if not seeing. She didn’t stop wailing, and she threw up again and again, until the smell lined the inside of Juliet’s nose.

Eventually the paramedics arrived.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

TO BE HONEST,’ Alice began, ‘I don’t even feel safe on this island anymore!’ She’d been yapping for ages about the car-bomb attack, and Nick had grown tired of it. She hadn’t even been there, but from the dramatic way she went on and on, anyone would think she’d had a front seat … or maybe that she’d narrowly escaped death. Watching her chin wag, Nick realised why she often complained about her fluctuating baby fat; she did look a little plumper today than the last time he’d seen her, which wasn’t long ago at all.

‘Ah, sorry, I’ve just got to help this customer,’ said Nick, and scurried off to someone who’d just entered Creaky Crystals. Even though Alice was a customer herself, she was so regular he figured she’d overlook his rude ploy to get away from her.

To be honest, he hated it when people started sentences with ‘To be honest’; it made him wonder if the speaker was ordinarily a liar. If they weren’t, then why did they need the short preamble? He’d never heard anyone begin a sentence with ‘To tell a lie’ or ‘To be dishonest.’

‘Hi, can I help you?’ he asked the woman who’d entered.

She gave a startled look. ‘Erm, no … thank you.’ She scooted around him nervously, and approached the section stocked with candles and incense. Nick didn’t really care.

Alice Bicker had moved onto Michael now, who had started his shift just before Alice came into the store. Nick hadn’t had a chance to talk to him about the black-haired man yet, but once Blabbermouth was done blabbering, he would ask about that day.

A long, drawn-out sigh escaped him. He was becoming extremely restless about everything. Knowing Kerra was alive, but being no closer to finding her. Waiting for promising news from the police. Worrying about who might be targeting him, and why. Feeling awful for Kerra’s family because he couldn’t reassure them that Kerra wasn’t dead without looking guilty of the crime.

The maypole dance had been two days ago, and when the police arrived they took short statements from everyone who was still waiting around. Nick had taken a chance to speak with Mora before the authorities showed up, asking her not to mention how he’d deflected the firework that had soared towards her. At first she seemed perplexed, but then Nick added, ‘I don’t want the extra attention.’

Mora nodded back understandingly and rubbed his arm. ‘Of course,’ she said, then smiled mischievously. ‘My hero.’

Nick had laughed, but soon after that, the scene turned very serious.

The incident had been covered on the news that night, all yesterday, and was still the main topic today. It turned out the silver car had been reported stolen from a home in Etherby, the morning of May first. It was confirmed the fireworks used were the ones taken from the Fire Festival the day before. Suspicions were that the attack was meant to send a message of some sort, as it appeared to have been targeted at Pagans. Also, there was the theory it was connected to the body burnt at The Burning Grounds (even though that had happened half a year ago), but because there was no proof it hadn’t been a random attack, the incident hadn’t officially been labelled an act of terrorism.

Tom was still staying at Michael’s house, but had called Nick that evening, knowing he’d attended the maypole dance. He wanted to know what had happened. Trying his best not to arouse suspicion, Nick told his brother that it appeared be a random attack, to which Tom replied, ‘It’s a bit weird that only the dance you were at was targeted. There were other maypole events across the park …’

At first, Nick was irritated by Tom’s unsubtle hint that he knew more than he let on. That was until he realised, I do know more than I’m telling him. The shame hit him hard.

Everything was becoming more complicated each day, different people knowing different fragments of the bigger picture; Fin knew about Nick’s ability, but nothing about Aldrich or Juliet; Nick’s family knew about Aldrich, but not about Nick’s ability, nor Juliet’s; Nick’s colleagues knew nothing; Kerra, wherever she was, knew nothing; only Nick and Juliet knew about the portal and the Otherworld; nobody but Nick knew about the curly-haired man and the man with black hair. And worse than all of that, nobody but him knew about the children who had been sent through the portal; well, most of them would be too old now to be classified as children, if they were even still alive.

Just thinking of all the secrets he kept and lies he told gave him a tearing headache. One day he would have to sit everyone down and reveal everything … Yeah, I can see that going well.

Yesterday he’d received a call from Detective Inspector Talwar. When he recognised the voice on the other end, his heart jolted, assuming it was an update on Kerra’s case. But Talwar said, ‘I see from a statement you provided that you were at the maypole dance yesterday, where the car-bombing took place.’

‘Okay,’ Nick responded cautiously.

‘I need you to come in for questioning, if you’ll oblige.’ Talwar’s tone made it obvious that Nick wasn’t being given a choice in the matter. So that’s how he ended up back in the interview room with the rubber floor and plain walls.

Talwar asked a lot of questions and said it was suspicious Nick had been present at the maypole dance. ‘A sensitive man like yourself, grieving the absence of his girlfriend, wouldn’t attend such a merry event, would he?’ But when Nick explained his reasons for being there, the detective dropped the indirect accusations.

During the interview, Nick recalled Tom’s words about detectives understanding body language. He wasn’t a complete stranger to reading little gestures and body movements himself. At school, even before his mum went missing, he’d been a bit of a wallflower. And back when he first dated Kerra, she’d lied to him so much he began to pick up on the subtle mannerisms that betrayed her actions, even when her words said otherwise.

As he observed Talwar’s behaviour, he came to a realisation: The detective had grown more desperate than before.

The detective asked question after question, and while he did, Nick considered what would happen if Talwar’s hunger for solving the case became more unhealthy than it already seemed to be.

The interview ended with Detective Talwar reluctantly thanking Nick for his time. Nick asked, ‘Have you discovered anything more about Kerra?’

‘We are following a few leads and will update you when we know more.’ The detective showed his unprofessional side once more. ‘And Mr Crystan … I don’t want to have to drag you in for questioning again.’

‘You didn’t drag me in,’ said Nick. ‘I came voluntarily.’

For the rest of yesterday, he spent the evening with Fin, telling him about the events of the last couple of days. After Fin left, he rang Tom again, and then plodded off to the snug to mull over his troubles.

Mora rang his mobile, interrupting his thoughts, to thank him for ‘saving’ her and to say she felt awful about the maypole dance. She apologised for pressuring him to attend the celebration in the first place. Nick reassured her with, ‘I’m just glad you’re okay. And don’t worry, I wanted to come along.’

He had stayed awake a long time last night.

This morning, he’d had to rush to get ready for work. With so much going on, he forgot to set his alarm the evening before. The rushing wasn’t terrible in itself—he often procrastinated to the point of last-minute arrivals to everything—but this morning he noticed something off. Just before leaving, he found himself staring at a drawer in his room. It was slightly open, not how he’d left it. He quickly peeked inside and got the vague sense that something was missing, but there was no time to figure out what.

And now here he was at Creaky Crystals, enduring a slow workday. He waited and waited for Alice to stop talking to Michael, impatiently bouncing one leg on the spot. It was becoming silly now.

To fill the time, he removed geodes from the glass cabinet they were on, dusted the shelves, and then carefully placed the sliced rocks back. He looked at the price stickers, and although he already knew the amounts, they perpetually gobsmacked him. Creaky Crystals would be fairly quiet now, up until Halloween. Nick assumed that if it wasn’t for the extortionate prices the customers were willing to pay, the Pagan shops in Amiton couldn’t afford to stay open all year round. Although Mora did discount her items to compete with the stores in the upper grounds; if she didn’t, then shoppers would have little reason to come down to The Fallend—they could stay up the top where the stores in general were classier and conveniently huddled together.

‘Bye, Michael!’ Alice suddenly chirped. As a goodbye to Nick, she scrunched up her face and gave a smile too extraordinary to be authentic.

A dopey laugh rumbled out of Michael. ‘Thanks a lot for dumping her on me, Nick.’

‘Sorry. There’s only so much of Alice I can handle.’

Michael laughed some more. ‘She’s not so bad.’

Nick smiled, shrugged, then asked, ‘Do you remember you told me a pale guy with black hair came in to see me?’

‘Yeah.’ Michael frowned briefly at the swift change of topic. ‘A while ago now.’

‘What did he say to you? Because nobody has got in touch with me since …’

‘Same as what I told you before. He didn’t seem to know you well. Couldn’t remember your full name. So I spelt it out for him, and he said he’d find you online or something. Then he left.’

‘Oh. Have you not seen him since?’

Michael shook his head, more expressively than he usually would. ‘It’s not got anything to do with Kerra, has it?’ His face became serious; his arms tensed slightly.

Eyebrows lifting, Nick went to speak, but his words got stuck in his throat. Maybe Michael wasn’t so simple after all. ‘No. I don’t think so,’ he lied. ‘I probably do know him from somewhere …’

Michael’s stance softened. ‘Alright.’ After a sigh, he added, ‘I hope you find out something soon, mate. Kerra’s a nice girl.’

An appreciative smile was all Nick could give. Michael had to hurry off and put through a transaction for a customer, but he returned afterwards.

‘Is Mora still on the phone?’ asked Nick. He’d seen her rush out the back to answer the ringing roughly ten minutes ago.

‘Yeah. Think so.’

‘How are things at college? Is Tommy still giving you grief?’

‘I haven’t seen him for a few days now.’ Michael drew the corners of his lips down and raised his shoulders just to drop them, his movements as lazy as his slurred speech. ‘Did you go around your dad’s to chat with him?’

‘No. I haven’t had a chance yet.’

‘You know Tom went to see him the other day anyway? He told me if Tommy had made an effort with him, then he would have, too.’

‘I know … Tom told me what happened. But anyway, I’ll talk to Tommy as soon as I can.’ Then Nick realised something. ‘Wait … is Tom at your house now?’ He laughed. ‘I’ve only just thought about it … He’s been staying at your house these past few days, but now you’re here at work. Where is he today?’

Michael smiled a bit gormlessly. ‘He’s at mine still. Didn’t even get out of bed when I left for work. He loves having a lie-in.’

I’m sure he does, thought Nick, not having to work, living off of Dad’s money … But with all the support his brother had given him, he couldn’t truly be annoyed. ‘Are your family okay with Tom staying over so much?’

‘Yeah. My mum and dad really like him. He’s probably chatting away with them right now. I’m quite lucky, really. One of my cousins came out lesbian a few months before me and Tom started seeing each other, so I got to see the way my mum and dad were about that before I told them about me. When I told Mum, she was shocked, but she said, It’s your life, Michael; with any luck you’ll live a lot longer than I do, so why should I start telling you what to do now? I won’t be able to when I’m dead!’

Nick laughed unexpectedly. ‘That’s a nice way to look at it,’ he said, and he meant it.

‘Yeah. She respects that it’s my life … and my dad’s happy if Mum’s happy.’

‘That’s good.’

‘Nicolas?’ Mora’s delicate yet authoritative voice travelled across the shop floor.

‘Yeah?’

‘I need to speak to you.’

He’d already started walking towards the back of the store, surprised by Mora’s bluntness. ‘What’s the matter?’ He found her holding the landline phone in her hand.

‘There’s a man on the phone. He says he’s a local stock provider, just setting up, and that he knows you.’

‘Oh?’

‘I’m all up for enquiring into new stock, Nicolas, but your friend is extremely unprofessional.’ She lowered her tone and held the phone at a distance, which seemed quite unprofessional itself. ‘He insists on speaking with you about his offer.’

‘What’s his name?’

‘Mark Caraway. Apparently he was a couple of years above you at middle school?’

Huh? Nick’s eyebrows squeezed together. ‘I don’t remember many people who weren’t in my year group.’

‘Okay, well …’ Mora switched into business mode, but still spoke reasonably. ‘I’d like you to speak with him, find out what he wants, and explain that if he wishes to do business with us in the future, then he’ll need to get used to conversing with me directly.’

‘Okay,’ agreed Nicolas. He took the phone from her. ‘Hello.’

‘Hi! Nicolas, it’s Mark Caraway. Do you remember me from school?’ the man asked in a rushed manner.

‘Erm … I don’t, actually.’

‘I was a couple of years above you.’ There was a short pause. ‘We played bulldog in the playground a couple of times.’

Nick remembered playing that lethal game at middle school with a group of friends, including Fin, but most boys would have played games like that at least once during their school years. If Mark Caraway was lying, then it was a safe lie for him to pick.

‘Right …’ Nick dragged out the word. ‘So, my manager says you’re a local stock provider?’

‘Yes, that I am. And I’d like you to come take a look at the items I’ve just got in. It would be perfect for your manager’s store.’

‘Creaky Crystals.’ Nick stated, feeling peculiarly defensive over the shop’s name being pushed aside.

‘Yes, Creaky Crystals. I came by to try talk to you a while ago, but you weren’t in.’

The man with black hair …

‘Well?’ the voice urged.

‘Where are you?’ As Nick asked the question, he heard Michael call for Mora from the front of the store. Mora gave an apologetic look and hurried off.

‘The old Rest-Easy-Beds factory in Etherby. It looks abandoned from the outside, but don’t worry, I’ll be here.’

Nick knew the factory; he’d heard they’d closed down about a month ago and had sold off new mattresses, usually priced over seven hundred pounds, for less than two hundred quid each. The building was in a quiet business estate on the outskirts of the one town on Lansin Island Nick actively tried to avoid.

‘You want me to come take a look now?’

‘If you can, yes.’

Then Nick’s vision came to mind. A big room with shiny walls. Metal beams on the ceiling. Lighting that should have been on. A factory …

Who is this man? Now he was certain the caller was lying. But what has he got to gain? Maybe when Nick arrived at the building, he would find Kerra looking as ill as she had in his vision, and this man would show up and threaten Nick, demanding a ransom or something. He had no money, though, so that theory made little sense.

Whatever true reason ‘Mark Caraway’ had called for, Nick would go. He had waited for this moment, for a clear sign he could act upon that would lead to his premonition coming true.

‘I’ll talk with my manager and head over if I can.’

‘Erm …’ The man sounded like he was about to push for a definite answer.

‘I should hopefully be there soon.’

‘Okay, fine.’

Nick hung up, placing the phone in its holder on the wall. When he returned to the front of the store, Mora was handing a woman some change and saying, ‘Thank you for shopping with us. Have a nice day.’

Michael dawdled about now, tidying shelves. Whatever urgent thing he’d called Mora for had been dealt with. Mora must have heard the tip-tap of Nick’s winklepickers; she turned, aiming her green eyes at him expectantly. ‘So, what did Mr Caraway want? Does it turn out that you know him?’

At a foot taller than Mora, Nick sometimes felt like the way he had to literally talk down to her might come across condescending, especially when he had assertions to make. To take a more casual stance, he stood at an angle and shuffled DVDs about while he responded. ‘Yeah. After talking for a minute, I remembered him. He was a couple years above me at school, like he said.’ He wished he didn’t have to lie, especially not to Mora, but finding Kerra was more important than being honest. ‘He wants me to head over and take a look at the stock.’

Mora’s face was straight as she took in the words, but her eyes moved around to make sense of it. ‘Shouldn’t he be asking me to inspect the stock?’

‘Yeah. I don’t know why he wants me to go. I think he might be nervous, having just set up, and he’d feel more comfortable talking to someone he knows. Just to start out.’

After a short sigh, Mora said, ‘Well, how am I supposed to feel confident doing business with someone so timid?’ She spoke with a steady tone, not stressed. It was apparent she was considering many angles.

‘I don’t know.’

‘Do you want to go and take a look?’

‘Erm, if you and Michael are fine without me.’ Nick aimed to sound neutral. ‘I don’t see the harm in it. If there’s any good stock, I’ll make it clear to Mr Caraway that he needs to deal with you directly in the future.’

Please just let me go. He tried not to let his plead show in his eyes. But the longer this conversation continued, the more he felt like his vision was crumbling into dust. Soon the chance would be gone.

‘Okay. As you know the man, we’ll give him a chance.’ Mora smiled brightly. Nick got the impression she thought she was doing him a favour, and he hoped it wasn’t just because he’d saved her from the firework. His manager plodded over towards the jewellery section. ‘Right. You’ve been here long enough to know what does and doesn’t sell, but I’ll tell you what I’d like you to keep an eye out for.’

She went from section to section, pointing out items that hadn’t shifted in a long while, items that flew off the shelves, items that were steady sellers, and also spoke about products she’d been wanting to get in.

This is a complete waste of time, thought Nick. Michael had overheard everything and added some suggestions on ‘cool stuff’ they should get into store. Mora’s excitement at the prospect of new stock made Nick frown.

‘Are you alright, Nicolas?’ she asked.

‘Sorry, yeah. Just a lot to remember.’

‘Don’t worry. I don’t want you to agree to anything with Mr Caraway. Don’t sign anything. Don’t promise anything.’ She touched his elbow and peered up at him. ‘I trust you to judge the quality of his stock. Take some pictures on your mobile if you like, and ring me if you’re uncertain about anything.’

‘Okay.’

Mora squinted suddenly and placed a hand on her side.

‘What’s the matter?’ Nick’s heart rate quickened.

‘I’ve been getting cramps in my stomach all day.’ Mora tapped at her ribs. ‘Just here.’

Where the firework should have struck you … Nick had worried there might be consequences, and now he hoped cramps would be the only repercussions.

‘Ooooh …’ Mora pulled an exaggerated face of discomfort. ‘It’s gone again. No need to panic.’

The time was 2:16 p.m., according to the clock in Creaky Crystals, and Nick was scheduled to finish at 5:00 p.m. ‘Okay. I better get going. I should be back here before my shift’s over.’ He wondered how true that was. Whatever he was going to face in the factory, he suspected it would be tougher than discerning the quality of dream-catchers and athames. Thinking of the ritual knives, he glanced over at them. Should I take a weapon?

‘Thank you, Nicolas,’ Mora said, her voice gentle.

‘That’s okay.’ He still considered the dark idea, but eventually decided against taking a weapon of any kind. His ability had saved people from harm before. Hopefully it would protect him if he needed it. Having an athame in his possession would only place suspicion on him if anything did happen. Who carried a weapon if they didn’t intend to use it? Even if only for self-defence?

The drive to Etherby was a short journey, and the contrast between it and Amiton always surprised Nick. The last and most memorable time he went to Etherby was the previous summer. Suffering with depression at the time, he’d occasionally become irritable at home, and so would go for long drives to clear his mind.

On a warm day, he’d taken his Vauxhall Corsa for a tour of the island, his favourite Muse album, Absolution, blaring through the speakers. As he’d cut through Etherby, he’d seen a throng of chavs surrounding an ice cream van. They’d rocked it back and forth, laughing and shouting profanities at the owner, who was still inside the vehicle. As Nick gained more distance from the ice-cream van, he heard a loud crash; the thugs had successfully toppled it. Other people drove past as well, so Nick didn’t even stop to call the police. He’d left the town as fast as the speed signs allowed him.

To this day he regretted turning a blind eye. If he ever saw someone in need of help again, he would at least call the authorities. He couldn’t blame his depression for everything, but having moved past it, he now realised that a lot of his previous actions had been selfish, all forms of avoiding anything tough in life. Maybe these choices benefited him at the time, but he’d left others he cared about in the lurch. Like Tom and Tommy, left to deal with their withdrawn father while Nick was too deep in his own sorrows.

I want to be a better person …

When he made it to the industrial estate, he pulled over and used his mobile to search the location of the old Rest-Easy-Beds factory. The area was quiet and had wide roads, the factories spread far apart. Nick figured out which building was his destination, got out of the car, and rushed towards it.

He trembled. Kerra, only metres away. Kerra, alive.

The ribbed metallic structure had a locked-down entrance, which he saw no way of opening. He wandered around the perimeter until he came across a green side door that was ajar. Just at the sight of the viable entrance, his shaking body ratcheted up a notch. A little sparrow flittered down and landed nearby, hopped about, and then flew away while Nick watched it suspiciously.

Slightly tilting his head in an attempt to heighten his hearing, Nick treaded towards the building with slow and quiet steps, steadily, steadily, steadily, until he could peer inside. A metal frame blocked most of his view. He entered completely and arched his neck to look up. The ceiling had dark square patches, striped with unlit bulbs. Nick’s footsteps, as gentle as he tried to be, echoed faintly, hauntingly.

Still moving forward, he returned his eyes to straight ahead, and there Kerra was. She limped in his direction, wearing her bright green jacket, red-and-white polka dot blouse, black skinny jeans, one remaining lime Ugg boot, and a black scarf that she hadn’t had on at the hotel. Mud and blood trailed down her clothes.

Nick’s quaking legs began to run. His eyes turned hot. He blinked to force tears aside. Kerra’s face was pale, and there was an emptiness to her stare. Nick couldn’t imagine the trauma she’d suffered. He stretched his arms out, reaching her; she extended hers too, but her eyes were blank and aimed away from him.

They embraced. Relief washed over him, stealing strength from his muscles, even as he tried to hold his girlfriend tighter, tighter. I’ve got you.

‘Kerra …’ Emotion wobbled the breath of his voice.

Kerra remained silent. A faint rotten odour hovered about her clothes. From the blood stains, Nick assumed. Then he realised something. In distress he’d become hot and sweaty, so warm that he hadn’t noticed the contrast to Kerra’s body heat at first.

She was cold … and her body was hard, like a rock.

As he stepped back, he bent down to meet Kerra’s eyes. Why isn’t she saying anything? The colour of her skin was awful. Not just pallid, but almost grey in places—the lips, ears, nostrils. For a second she gazed past him as if he wasn’t there, but then her hands shot out and grabbed his wrists. Nails dug into his flesh. Kerra’s strength was unnatural.

‘Owhhh! Kerra?’ His mouth contorted, puppet to the pain. ‘What are you doing?’

Kerra yanked his arms up and pushed him backwards. He struggled not to trip when she shoved him with superhuman force. Something solid met his back. Thud. A rattle ran down and behind him, suggesting it was a metal frame he’d been slammed against. ‘Kerra?! What’s the matter with you?’

She gave him her eyes. In them, he caught a fleeting look of turmoil that horrified him. Helpless, frightened, she’d appeared. But then her stare fell blank again. It wasn’t the only thing that fell; the black scarf, having loosened during the struggle, slipped to the floor.

Sick rushed to the base of Nick’s tongue. He swallowed hard to keep it back, wincing from the sight. His thoughts battled one another to make sense of what he saw before him: Kerra’s throat was torn open, clumps of flesh hanging from strings of skin. There was no blood. Like her face, the wound was white and grey and pale, as if it had been drained. The hole in her neck revealed the inside of her throat, dried up and colourless.

Through his mental clash, one thought was stronger than the others: How is this possible?

Steady, confident taps began to echo through the factory. A man strolled out from behind a corner and approached. His hair was black and rebellious, tufted on top of a bony face with big lips. He smirked at Nick while he took handcuffs out of a jacket pocket. Kerra shoved Nick down to the floor, bruising his coccyx, and then the black-haired man cuffed one of Nick’s wrists to the metal frame. Kerra held fast to him as the man rummaged through his pockets, took out the contents, and dashed them out of reach.

Nick groaned, desperate to push free, but Kerra’s hold on him was solid. ‘Why are you doing this? Who are you?’ he asked the man, recognising him from Deirdre’s café.

Kerra released her grip as soon as Nick was restrained. The guy with black hair laughed dismissively. He placed the key to the handcuffs a few metres away, at a distance Nick might have been able to reach.

‘What’s wrong with Kerra? What have you done to her?!’ His voice ached the more he forced it.

The man had begun to walk away, but he swung around and said, ‘She’s dead, you idiot.’

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

IMMORTAL. THE THOUGHT wouldn’t leave Juliet alone. Permanently self-actualising. Could it be true? Her body and mind had been improving without effort, and she certainly felt more youthful than before she’d gained her ability … but immortality?

If I’ll never die, then do my achievements mean anything? What are a few qualifications and a small business worth in the scheme of hundreds or thousands of years? The words echoed in her mind: thousands-of-years, thousands of years, thousands … of … years. She couldn’t think of much worse than living forever. If there was no cap on her life, then there was no pressure to fulfil goals … but extreme pressure to fill time.

I need to speak to Tamara. Maybe she’ll know the truth of it.

Sitting on a hard plastic bench in Amiton General Hospital, she waited for the doctor to finish speaking with her gran. The hallway was mild and airy, and seemed to stretch on forever. Having spent so little time in a hospital before, she was anxious of what to expect.

It was strangely quiet, like a ghost town, and although she was sure a lot was going on behind scenes, she saw very little. People came and went, some giving her suspicious looks yet saying nothing, and many avoiding eye contact completely. Gazing about at the pale colours around her—blue, jade green, brown, cream, the occasional yellow—she tried hard to keep her composure.

Is this place full of spirits? She was dealing with the situation rather well now that she was able to block them out. But even having practised it, she feared her resolve might slip and she would let the dead through. Believe in my ability, believe in what I can do.

‘Miss Maystone.’ The voice took her by surprise. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.’

‘No, it’s fine,’ she said, recognising the doctor.

‘Your grandmother would like to speak with you, but she needs rest. Try not to keep her long.’

Juliet left the hallway and entered the ward, hushed conversations and general shuffling sounds picking up around her. In the corner by a window was Lillian’s bed, the curtain drawn halfway for privacy. Lillian was propped up, looking drowsy and dazed. Her eyes were rheumy, her face wan.

‘Gran? How are you feeling?’

Lillian stared blankly for a time.

‘Gran?’

Lillian blinked repeatedly then gave her granddaughter a tired but warm smile. ‘Sweetheart …’ After Austin had pushed her over the night before, the paramedics arrived and took her to hospital, suspecting a fractured hip. She was operated on that night. This was the first chance Juliet had had to speak with her since.

‘How are you feeling?’

‘I’m very … tired, but … the pain is okay,’ she said through laboured breaths. ‘If I keep still.’ She laughed gently and winced. Juliet moved forward instinctively but didn’t touch her gran at all, fearing she’d hurt her somehow.

‘The doctor said you wanted to talk to me.’

Lillian frowned slowly. ‘I always … want to talk with you,’ she said innocently, giving her genuine smile. Sunlight fell in through the window, pushing through a cloud-white sky to bathe Lillian’s ashen face in an angelic glow. She looked beautiful to Juliet, no matter her condition.

‘Nothing specific then?’

‘No, sweetheart.’ Lillian’s smile turned wistful for a split second, but then her face relaxed. She closed her eyes.

‘I spoke with Mum last night,’ said Juliet.

Lillian replied without lifting her eyelids back up. ‘She’s down … as my next of kin. I never had that changed. I think they asked me about contacting her … before the operation. But I don’t remember what I said.’

‘The hospital rang her. I don’t think she’s coming to see you.’

‘No … I doubt she will.’

Juliet recalled the night before. After her gran was taken in for surgery, she went outside of the hospital, expecting her mum to call or text. But she didn’t. So in the cold, dark outdoors, she rang her mother herself.

‘Yes, sweetie?’ her mum answered. ‘You need something?’ She made her greeting sound as if it was only a matter of time before Juliet came around to calling her.

‘Mum. The hospital contacted you, I take it?’

Her mother took a while to answer, but said, ‘Of cooouurse they did, sweetie.’

At that point it was clearly a hopeless conversation, but she tried anyway. ‘Will you be coming to see your mum? She’s in surgery now, but tomorrow should be okay for you to visit.’

The line crackled with the sound of Mrs Maystone expelling air. ‘I won’t be visiting Lillian.’

Juliet’s blood boiled. So much energy coursed through her. We were both nearly killed! ‘What is wrong with you, Mum? You’re not even acting human. Gran has been badly hurt, and I’m the one who’s been lied to by you, yet you’re acting like I need to make it up to you.’

No reply. For a long time.

‘Mum?’

‘Yes, sweetie?’ she finally said, as if she hadn’t just ignored Juliet’s last comments.

‘Gran’s an elderly woman … This could put a lot of strain on her. She deserves our support.’

‘Do you think I don’t know how old she is?’

‘Well, shouldn’t you be making amends with her? After what you did? … And what does Dad think of this? Won’t he even come to see her? Does he hate her like you do, or is he just afraid to talk back to you?’

‘Juliet,’ Mrs Maystone snapped. ‘You will not talk to me like this, and you will not tell me what Lillian deserves.’

Juliet lost her steam. There was a tone in her mother’s voice she didn’t understand, making her wonder ... She can’t be so angry over just a few rows on my upbringing.

‘Let your father and I think on it.’ Mrs Maystone sounded reluctant.

‘Fine.’

Without another word, Juliet had hung up.

Now she stood by her gran’s side, staring down at her, pondering the idea that Lillian was less innocent than she had made out. But that notion didn’t jibe with Juliet’s impression of her gran. Maybe Lillian had missed out some facts about the past, but she’d also shown more love and care these past months than Juliet had ever received from her mum.

Mum’s trying to turn me against her, she reasoned, to get me back under her thumb.

Quietly, Lillian croaked, ‘Do I need to … speak with the authorities …? The man who pushed me …’ She opened her eyes, peered at her granddaughter.

Juliet had spent half the night worrying over how to solve this issue. And of course the answer she feared was the one she also dreaded: lie. Because of Austin’s threat, she couldn’t have Lillian telling the authorities that it was Austin who put a knife to her throat and pushed her over. ‘Do you know who grabbed you, Gran? Who pushed you?’

With a squint, Lillian said, ‘I … I didn’t see. He grabbed me from behind. I don’t remember … I’m sorry.’

Juliet sighed. Some good news, at least. ‘Don’t worry, Gran. I didn’t know the man either. He broke into the house a while before you came back. I suppose he thought no one was home. And I spoke with the police earlier; they said they don’t need a statement from you.’ The lies tasted bitter, but having committed to them, she reckoned it wouldn’t harm to embellish them to make her gran feel better. ‘You saved me by arriving when you did.’

‘Saved you?’ Lillian’s eyes widened a little. ‘The man didn’t … hurt you, did he?’

‘No, no. Nothing like that. He made threats, but he left after what he did to you.’

Lillian managed a laugh, but winced again. ‘I didn’t save you … You were very clever scaring him off with your … alarm. Apparently you were right … about learning self-defence.’ She smiled wanly. ‘The doctor says I should rest … They want to get me up and walking about tomorrow.’ Gently, she laughed. ‘Test out my new hip …’

‘Sure. I called Susan this morning and told her what’s happened. She’s going to visit you later, if you have enough energy.’

‘Okay, sweetheart … thank you.’

Juliet moved closer and kissed her gran’s forehead. I love you, she thought.

Before leaving the hospital, she stopped in the toilets. She stood and stared at her reflection in the mirror, but found she didn’t like the person looking back: a woman with weakness in her eyes, hung up on self-pity, and needing to pull herself together. A woman she never saw herself becoming.

I have to do something.

There was only one person she could talk to about the situation: Nicolas Crystan. If Austin knew about her complicity in Aldrich’s murder, then surely he knew who else was involved, too. Maybe Nicolas, one of his brothers, or even Ryan had something to do with Austin.

He was lying to me. Like my parents. The words urged her on, forcing her to concoct a plan. She could go to Creaky Crystals to find Nicolas, assuming he still worked there. Even if he did, she might have to wait for a day he was in or waste time trying to contact him outside of work. Not good enough. She wanted answers. Now. Another reason not to visit Creaky Crystals was that being seen there could incriminate her, if the police managed to link Nicolas and her to Aldrich’s death.

Why? Why did he deceive me? As much as she hated herself for it, she kept thinking, Did he care about me at all? It was a backwards thought, really, because there was no moving forward with Austin after this … So why did it matter if he ever cared or not? But the question joined the thoughts echoing in her head.

She remembered Austin’s words from the day before and took down her mental shield, letting the spirits in. The notion of summoning one had come to her. She once tried to call forth her gran’s spirit, back when she had believed her dead, but was unsuccessful, of course.

The dead flooded her mind. Too many. She turned and saw shapes in the cubicles, blurs in the mirrors, flickers on the ceiling. The chill was enough to send prickles over her entire body. She closed her eyes and forced the spirits away. I can’t do it here. When she lifted her eyelids, she jumped at the sight of a woman who’d entered the toilets.

‘Are you okay?’ the lady asked while Juliet scrutinised her outline, making certain there were no disturbances in the surrounding air.

‘Yes, sorry. I was deep in thought …’ She brought forward an excuse, one with painful truth to it. ‘I received some bad news a moment ago, and you startled me.’

The woman, frizzy-haired and short, smiled in a way that aimed for understanding but came across anxious. ‘I’m sorry to hear that.’ She ducked her head, entered a cubicle, and Juliet heard the sound of the lock being hastily applied.

She left the hospital and found herself not far from Amiton town centre. She considered trying to summon the spirit somewhere quiet nearby, like down an alley or in an unfrequented area of Wood Park, but decided the best place would be her home; she knew for certain few spirits haunted the street.

After reaching the station, she caught a bus to Chanton and made her way to New Avenue. In her downstairs living room, she stole a moment to sit on the sofa and collect herself, focusing on the goal in mind. You know we can summon them, right? We can force them to come to us, she heard his voice, his unique laugh. It hurt to recall the feelings he’d evoked in her.

Having spent all night at the hospital, she hadn’t had the chance to clean up her gran’s vomit from the day before, or to address the smashed vase in the kitchen and the hole Austin had left in a wall. The sour stink of sick had permeated the downstairs, but there was no time to clear the mess this moment.

Juliet dropped her mental wall again and reached out with her will, visualising the person she had in mind. There was a tugging, like she’d snagged something but was struggling to reel it in. Her mind drifted after a while, and then she imagined herself reaching an arm into quicksand and pulling out a victim who’d sunk far into the wet gloop.

Amazed by the sensations, she hauled the spirit towards her. Her eyes opened, the temperature shifted … and there Samantha Crystan was, with chocolate-coloured hair and eyes, and a face so pretty. Seeing her brought images of Nicolas and his brothers to mind. Their mother was in all of their faces, the twins’ more so than Nicolas’s. With a horrible lurch in her gut, she realised, Samantha has the same colour eyes as Austin …

Surrounding the spirit, the air shimmered and twitched. Objects in the room fidgeted, swayed, clattered, but Juliet reminded herself that the strange disturbances were only her interpretations of the Spiritworld overlapping with this world. Only I can see them. And if that was true, then hopefully the unearthly happenings were unable to harm her. ‘I need to find Nicolas,’ she said to the spirit.

The first time Samantha had ever appeared to Juliet, her eyes were distant and emotionless. Now they were full of panic. ‘You can’t hold me here. It’s not safe.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Not safe for you. Not safe for me.’

‘I don’t understand. You’re a spirit … How can you be in danger?’

‘I can be made to suffer.’ Samantha’s voice sounded overlaid, the way vocals were edited in music; it gave the effect of her speaking from every corner of the room.

Feeling rushed, Juliet said, ‘If you can’t lead me to Nicolas, then can you answer my questions? Who is Austin? How does he know about Aldrich’s death? Aldrich didn’t leave a ghost, did he? He’s not behind this?’ The questions rolled out, and more could have followed if Samantha hadn’t cut her short.

‘There is much going on!’ Her voice shrunk the room, and the phenomena increased in her fervour.

Juliet waited, stunned, as the spirit shifted and peered about. ‘Can you answer any of my questions?’

‘Aldrich’s not behind it. He never left a ghost.’ Her shape flickered in and out of existence, then she shook her phantom head. ‘I can’t … I don’t … aaahhhh!’ she wailed, seeming to shake the house. ‘I’ll return.’ The air collapsed in on itself with a sudden fffhh-whoomp! as she vanished.

Then she was back. ‘Quick! You have to be quick! Go to the old Rest-Easy-Beds factory in Etherby. Nicolas is there. Go prepared.’

‘Prepared for what?’

‘No … no … windows, doors, closing in on me, fragments. Time … time.’

‘What’s happening to you?’ Juliet had seen a spirit talk this kind of gibberish before, babbling about windows and reflections and information the spirit hadn’t known in life.

‘Something is pursuing me. Here in the Spiritworld. I wanted to visit you before this, when I realised Nicolas was in danger, but I’ve been running since. By summoning me, you’ve cornered me.’

Juliet saw fear in the ghost’s eyes. ‘Can I help somehow?’ Is another spirit after her? she wondered. Or do other things exist in the Spiritworld? When she had more time to ponder the chilling possibilities, she would.

‘No! You must go to Nicolas. Now. Don’t summon me again. It’s too dangerous.’ Samantha Crystan dissolved out of sight. A scream and rapid patters followed … like footsteps, chasing and chasing. Then it was quiet.

Left with only a sense of dread and the stench of vomit, Juliet spurred herself. Quick. I have to be quick. She pushed to her feet and hurried to the front door, but her own thoughts stopped her. Go prepared. What did she mean? Last time she had done Samantha’s bidding, she ended up running through woodland in wedge boots, which was not pleasant. Wearing trainers was definitely on the agenda this time. But Juliet doubted the spirit had meant ‘wear suitable footwear’ when she said to go prepared.

A weapon? Was that what she had meant? No … I won’t. I’ll be safe with my personal alarm and my mobile … and I can defend myself now. I can. She left the house, more at a run than a walk, and realised that being able to drive would be of great help, but as her café was nearby and she could afford public transport or taxis for longer journeys, she’d had little reason to learn. At least until now …

If this kind of drama was to continue, then she’d need a quicker way to get from A to B.

The nearest bus stop with a route to Etherby was a ten-minute walk away, moving at a reasonable pace. Juliet got there in five. It was of no benefit, though; she had to wait quarter of an hour for the next bus. The delay was torture, but the journey itself was worse.

Luckily she knew the location of the industrial estate with the closed-down Rest-Easy-Beds factory. Her parents once purchased a memory foam mattress from there when the business had been open. Superking size, of course. Juliet had accompanied her mum and dad when they went to inspect the beds.

She exited the bus in a rough area by a general store and a bookie’s, where loutish youths loitered outside. Maybe Samantha meant I should be prepared to face this unpleasant town, she considered with a hint of dark humour, though in seriousness, she figured people who waited idly on corners, looking for trouble, were like poorly trained dogs: If they sensed someone’s anxiety, they’d be compelled to attack … If someone tried to run from them, the chase would be irresistible.

Keeping a confident pace, she acted as though nothing were amiss when she passed by. The group paid her no mind, or if they did, she was ignorant of it. After navigating a few streets of plain and unimpressive houses, she found herself in the large and quiet area segmented by factories.

In the morning, there’d been a light shower, at the same time Juliet had exited the hospital to call Susan. Now it was afternoon. The sky was white, the air mild. On her approach, she wondered if any workers from the other warehouses would see her here, or if anyone would hear and heed her alarm if there was a need to set it off. She hastily circled the building until she spotted a slightly open green door.

Okay. I can face whatever’s inside. All I want is answers.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

AS IF SOMETHING were about to strike his face, Nick’s eyes clamped shut, his head tilting down to the side. No. She can’t be. His chest began to rock uncontrollably. I won’t believe it. It doesn’t make sense. ‘H-how? How can she be dead?’ He sounded so pathetic, so weak. ‘She’s … moving.’

‘After I ripped her throat to shreds, I forced her spirit into her dead body. Now I have control over it.’

The graphic language surged anger through Nick, and the rage fought against the tears. For now. ‘Why did you kill her?!’ he shouted. ‘Who are you? What are you?’

The man barked a sudden laugh. He plodded around in circles, acting like he ruled the world and shouldn’t deign to answer. ‘Alright, alright! Calm down. I’ll answer your second question, and your third.’ He strolled about some more, mocking Nick, wasting time.

Kerra had limped away, and now stood facing a metal wall, her posture slack. Nick couldn’t bear to look at her for long. If her spirit is still inside her body, maybe she can be saved, maybe her neck can be healed … re-mended … surgery … magic? His mind swam with thoughts of Aldrich, Juliet, his own ability, the portal, the Spiritworld, the Otherworld.

‘I think you know I’m not Mark Caraway, as fun as our little act on the phone was. So, just call me Austin. And as for what I am, I call myself a necromancer.’ The corners of his mouth lifted, his eyes filled with conceit.

The word had a widening effect on Nick’s mind. When he failed to reply, the ‘necromancer’ asked, ‘You know what that is, right? Someone who has control over spirits of the dead.’ Austin looked as if he’d expected a better reaction, like he was waiting for Nick to hold up his free hand and offer a high five (Nice one, I’ve always wanted to be a necromancer myself!). But of course there was no such response.

‘I know what a necromancer is in fiction and games … but this …’ He glanced over at the reanimated corpse of his girlfriend, then cringed and turned away. Dead. No. There must be something I can do.

‘Oh, get over her, you pathetic pushover!’ The murderer held out his hands, palms facing the ceiling. ‘The bitch cheated on you.’

Nick’s brows puckered and his nose creased upwards, like he was trying to crush something placed between his eyes. ‘How do you know that?’ How many times would Kerra’s betrayal come back to hurt him?

‘When I forced her spirit back into her body, I extracted information from it first,’ Austin explained. As Nick struggled to comprehend it, he heard the necromancer ask, ‘You know why she cheated on you?’

Because I deserved it, came the automatic answer in his mind. Although, until now, he was sure he’d moved past that belief.

‘Because you were self-obsessed,’ Austin spat out. ‘Lost in your own sad little life. From what I picked up, she wanted to be happy with you; she really did. But you didn’t let her in. You pushed her away.’ He gave a pitiful look, like there was no hope for Nick. ‘But guess what? She really did love you this time.’

‘Shut up!’ Nick knew his past mistakes; he didn’t need to suffer them again. He knew them in detail … In detail! That’s what was missing from my drawer this morning. ‘You took my diary,’ he said, somehow feeling embarrassed at a time like this.

During Nick’s depression, his therapist had suggested he keep a journal to track his progress and better his understanding of himself. He had stopped using the diary some time ago now, but it would still be full of embarrassing ramblings: angry rants aimed at people like Alex Campbell, pathetic and outdated musings over the reasons his mother had up and left, mock letters of forgiveness to people he thought had wronged him across the years. I should have destroyed that thing.

‘Yes, I have your crappy diary,’ said Austin, making it sound like he couldn’t think of a more boring topic. ‘It makes for a terribly dull and depressing read.’

He broke into my house … When? Nick tried to think, and struggled for an answer. He’d only noticed the open drawer this morning, so Austin couldn’t have broken in long ago. Maybe while I was at the station yesterday? Or the day before, when I was at the maypole dance? ‘Why are you doing this?’ The vacant factory rebounded his question, making him feel small. ‘Why did you kill her?’

‘You want to hurt me, don’t you?’ Austin sneered. ‘I left the key to your handcuffs near you. All you have to do is reach for it.’

Nick was so full of hate, he didn’t know what he wanted. Maybe hurting Austin would make him feel better. But it wouldn’t give him answers. ‘No, I don’t want to hurt you.’ He looked over at the key apathetically. ‘I want to know why you’re doing this. What do you want from me?’

The necromancer seemed disappointed. ‘I’m in charge here. And I have some questions to ask you.’ He glared. ‘What do you know about your ability, Nicolas Crystan?’

He knows I can see the future. The shock must have registered on Nick’s face, because the necromancer hastily added, ‘Don’t even try to lie. I know you have an ability.’

‘I … just had a daydream one day, and it turned out to be a vision of the future. Every now and again I have visions … but they’re not always accurate.’

‘You have no control over it?’

‘I don’t think so,’ he lied.

The man with black hair squinted. ‘Do you know anything about your heritage? Do you know of other people with your ability?’

Nick paused before replying. ‘My heritage? No.’ He’d hesitated because his mother was immune to Aldrich’s ability too, and his gran had foreseen her own death while ill in hospital. As far as he could tell, the ability had run through his family and was only passed down to the firstborn.

‘You know … if you’re lying to me, I can make your girlfriend suffer more than she already has.’ The necromancer peered over at Kerra’s body, standing statue-like.

‘I thought she was dead …?’

‘Oh, she is. But her spirit can still suffer. I believe she’s aware of what’s happening to her. She just has no control over it.’

Suddenly, Nick yanked his wrist away from the metal frame, making noises of protest without meaning to, causing loud clanks that travelled throughout the factory. But the handcuffs didn’t budge. Instead, Nick was left with a throbbing wrist, marked white and red. After a while he grumbled, ‘I’m not lying.’

‘Hmmm …’ Austin gave a single laugh. ‘Okay, next question. What do you intend to do with your power?’

‘What? I don’t intend to do anything. I don’t know where I got my ability. I don’t know why I can see the future. And I don’t know why you care so much about it!’

The necromancer’s jawline seemed to harden, and his head moved slowly side to side. ‘You’re just like every other good-looking guy your age. Think you’re better than me. Think you can shout at me … talk down to me.’ His breathing turned into rhythmic huffs.

‘What?’ Nick stared at the man, trying to understand his logic. ‘You murdered my girlfriend! How would you like me to talk to you?’ Then it finally sunk in. Kerra was dead. Actually dead. Nick gave up on his bravado and began to sob, covering his face with his free hand.

Austin sniggered, and then laughed openly. But it seemed forced. He stopped within a few seconds and then paced about until Nick was in a calmer state. ‘Righteo, well, let’s get this show on the road, eh?’

With no tears left, Nick asked desperately, ‘Can she be saved?’

‘I told you: She’s dead. The only thing binding her spirit to that body is me. Once someone’s dead, nothing can put their spirit and body back together, not the way they were.’

Nick felt numb from grief, and it enabled him to ask the horrific question that had been nagging him. ‘Why hasn’t she decomposed?’ Emotion bit him again, unexpectedly, but he pushed through.

The necromancer pouted impatiently for a second. ‘I obtained an enchanted item that looked surprisingly dull, actually. Looked like a brown olive. For the enchantment to work, the item had to be placed inside of the body I wished to keep in stasis. My options were to force-feed it to your girlfriend while she was still alive, or to pop it inside once I’d torn an opening.’ He smirked. ‘I chose the less messy option … Can you imagine how gross it would have been to have to force-feed her?’

‘Stop with the descriptions,’ Nick pleaded.

‘Oh, what? You don’t like to know the gory details? Poor you. Lemme show you the fancy weapon I used to create the opening … something I fashioned in my own time.’ He pulled a double-bladed knife from inside his jacket. ‘And now that you’ve answered all of my questions, I’ll use it to kill you too.’

The necromancer approached, then stopped. ‘Or actually, should I get your cheating-lying-dead-bitch-of-a-girlfriend to choke the life out of you?’ He turned to Kerra’s corpse and reached a hand out to it, using his ability to make the body caper on the spot in a way that would have been comical, were it a living person. Austin laughed at his own twisted humour.

‘Wait!’ shouted Nick. ‘If you’re going to kill me, can you answer my questions?’ He added a word that tasted vile in this situation: ‘Please.’

‘Please? Oh, the boy’s got manners! Do you know where manners get you? Nowhere.’ He pulled a silly face, using his tongue to push out the area below his bottom lip. Then he straightened up. ‘But because your timid demeanour reminds me of my younger self, I’ll answer your questions.’ He appeared to assess something in his mind, then quickly added, ‘And this time, don’t complain if I give you the unpleasant details. Every time you protest, I’ll come up with a more inventive way to kill you.’

Thinking of the weapon and Kerra’s vacant eyes sent a chill down Nick’s limbs. ‘Whatever you say,’ he replied. He thought he was beginning to understand Austin’s behaviour. The necromancer liked to have the upper hand, and became angry when he was treated irreverently.

Austin quickly sat down, cross-legged, and ran his fingers along the blunt edges of each blade. ‘Go on then. Fire away.’

‘You came into Creaky Crystals and spoke with one of my colleagues, didn’t you? A guy with mousey-brown hair.’

‘Another good-looking lad, like you …’ He threw a scornful look. ‘… except he seemed a bit slower in the head than you. I bet he’s popular, though, and that he’s good at sports, and that all the girls swoon over him. Not that he’d be interested, as it appears he’s boning your brother.’ He scoffed disapprovingly. ‘The dope.’

Nick ignored the impulse to defend Tom and Michael. He almost replied, ‘You’ve got serious issues,’ but thought better of it. Finding out how much Austin knew about his life was disconcerting. ‘My colleague told me you didn’t seem to know me. You asked how to spell my name. Why?’

‘Because until then, I didn’t know your full name.’

‘So why were you looking for me?’

‘Now, I can’t tell you that.’ He grinned insincerely.

‘But you’re going to kill me. Why not tell me?’

‘Because I’m making the rules here.’ His teeth clenched, muffling the last words of the sentence.

To have any hope of leaving alive, Nick had to work around Austin’s personality—or personality disorder. ‘Okay, I’m sorry.’

Austin, appearing perplexed, scrutinised Nick before continuing. ‘I already knew your first name and that you worked in a Pagan shop in Amiton. I also had another …’ He seemed to hold back on what he was going to say, and then followed on with, ‘… lead.’

Nick’s mind struggled in confusion. How could someone with so little knowledge of him be so interested in him? ‘How did you know we were going to stay at West Edge Country House?’ We … He trained his eyes away from Kerra’s body.

‘Once I found out your full name and workplace, I did some research and discovered where you live. You do realise you have no security password on your Wi-Fi network? It took a rudimentary hack to see where you’d spent money online … to bring up your booking details. So I went to the hotel, and while the idiot manager was distracted with setting up the hall, I searched the reception desk and figured out the room you’d be staying in. I lay low for a while, then after the owners prepared your room, they left the window open to air it out.’ Judgementally, he slowly shook his head. ‘I climbed up the trellis at the side of the hotel, got into your guest room, and then hid in the ensuite.’

That was a disturbing thought: Austin had already been there, waiting in the room while Nick kissed Kerra outside the door. ‘So you were expecting both of us to enter the room? Were you going to kill me too?’

‘I was going to put the knife to your girlfriend’s throat so I could interrogate you. And then I would have killed you both. But as you didn’t enter the room, and I couldn’t have remained undetected for long, I had to get … creative.’

Nick hung his head and muttered, ‘I don’t understand why you’re doing this.’ He ached with the tension spreading down his neck and across his shoulders. Listening to Austin’s narrative was a double-edged blade; it was good to know the truth, but almost unbearable too.

‘I can’t hear you,’ Austin mocked.

Nick jerked his free hand forward and raised his voice. ‘I don’t understand why you’re doing this!’ Desperation clamped down on his throat, making him swallow to soothe the pain.

Austin tightened his fists. His pale knuckles sheened. ‘You shout at me again, and I’ll make you regret it.’

Nick bit down on his lower lip and said nothing, which the necromancer found amusing.

‘So,’ Austin went on, ‘my tasks were to find out your full name, where you work, and where you live. And then to make your life a living hell, to test you, and discover what you know about your ability. And then to kill you, if possible. Waiting for you in the hotel room was my attempt to take a shortcut. I couldn’t be asked to test you, ruin your life, etcetera, so I was going to skip to interrogating you, and just get to the killing. But since you didn’t enter the room, I reverted and decided to make your life hell.’

Are you schizophrenic? Nick thought, struggling to make sense of it all. Austin was going to take a shortcut on the twisted course he’d set himself? ‘How were you supposed to test me?’ Nick tried to avoid questions that would enrage the murderer.

‘However I saw fit. As long as it put you and others you cared about in danger.’ He squinted at his captive. ‘Speaking of the test, I blame you for this …’ He pulled up the sleeve of his jacket. ‘Thanks to my ability, it’s almost healed, but even so, it stung like a bitch!’ On his forearm was a large red and flaky mark.

‘You drove the car into the pole and set the fireworks off?’

‘Obviously …’ Austin sneered. ‘Jeez, you’re almost as slow as your woolly woofter work friend.’ Even though he was sitting down on the ground like Nick, he pulled in his chin, creating the impression that he was looking down on the man he planned to kill.

‘Did I pass your test?’ The question sounded ridiculous.

‘Well … I saw you save your manager from danger, you fucking hero, you!’ With apparent reluctance, Austin added, ‘And nobody died.’

‘Seems the only one who got hurt was you,’ Nick responded before he could stop himself.

The necromancer rose swiftly and pointed the serrated blades at Nick. A vein swelled on his forehead and throbbed under his wild black hair. ‘I was considering killing you quickly, but now I’ll make you wish you’d shown some respect.’

Fear had steadily covered Nick’s back in sweat, and now it was sticky and cold. He didn’t believe for a second that a quick death had ever been planned for him. He watched Austin’s rage grow more intense. The necromancer crossed his arms, the weapon sticking out to one side, and flicked his eyes from Nick to Kerra’s corpse. Slowly but surely, a smirk creased his white cheeks. He laughed to himself, slipped the double-bladed knife into a pocket inside his jacket, and then unzipped his trousers.

Nick’s face twisted in confusion … and disgust. Austin turned away. From behind, all Nick could see was the necromancer’s shoulder and elbow moving vigorously. He heard the repetitive rhythm. What Austin was doing was obvious, but it concerned Nick more to imagine what the necromancer planned to do once fully aroused.

After pulling something out of his pocket, there were rustling and sticky noises. Austin turned around. Evidently, he travelled prepared. He started swinging his body side to side, making his sheathed erection sway and slap his own hips, and then said in a mocking voice, ‘Hello, I’m Mark Caraway! Do you like my stock?’ He held out his palms to draw attention to his manhood, and broke into hysterical laughter.

Terror urged Nick on. He reached for the key. The handcuffs ripped into his wrist as he stretched, desperately, desperately. Austin actually pointed at him, his laughs escalating. ‘Oh! What a shame’—he switched off his amusement—‘what you want is only just out of reach. But don’t worry, this isn’t for you.’ He glanced down at his exposed area. ‘I’m not like your work friend.’

The necromancer raised a hand swiftly. He aimed his fingers at Kerra’s standing corpse and used his magic to make her follow him. He walked casually to a big square table that was scuffed and marked. It was probably once a workstation, where staff might have stood around and processed labels or letters, or performed some other humdrum chore.

Dead-Kerra, limping, made her way to the table and then slammed her chest down onto it. Her head thudded the wood in her graceless movement. The lumps of torn flesh that had clung to her neck now rested on the surface of the workstation. Nick winced, acid burning the base of his tongue.

Austin took a position standing behind the enchanted corpse, then he pushed up her muddy, bloody green jacket and polka dot blouse. ‘I bet when you were at school, all the girls liked you.’ He glowered at Nick, delivering his assumption as if it were an insult. Nick’s mind protested, No, after Mum disappeared, most girls avoided me, treating me like a fragile object, like I wasn’t worth the hassle … every girl except Kerra. Austin yanked down Kerra’s black jeans.

Nick pushed his eyes away, stretched harder for the key.

‘You know,’ Austin went on, ‘before I got my ability, I wasn’t half as attractive as I am now. Acne. Rebellious skin—too oily, then too dry, and then cracking and flaking. My face was undeveloped, plain, dull. I was scrawny … pigeon-chested, some said.’ He seemed lost in his terrible memories for a moment.

Nick used the opportunity to reach for something else instead of the key: the black scarf that had fallen from Kerra’s dead body. Austin had kicked it aside, but hopefully not too far.

If Nick could attain it, then he could use it to drag the key to him.

‘Girls like this,’ Austin carried on, obviously referring to Kerra, ‘they never looked twice at me back then. Shallow sluts, the lot of them. Now that my ability has improved my looks, though, and has toned my body, they throw themselves at me. But why should it be on their terms still? Why should I think, Oh, thank you for finally deeming me worthy, thank you for finally opening your legs to someone as pathetic as me?! No! I’ll do it my way. And I can have anyone I want …’ He turned his eyes on Nick and gave a smug grin.

‘Provided you kill them first,’ Nick muttered. To prevent Austin from discovering his plan, he had stopped reaching for the scarf.

After a glare, Austin grabbed the dead body by the hips. The table wobbled, creaked, and then the necromancer looked at Nick once more. ‘Now that I’ve learnt everything I wanted to know, I’ll have my way with her … and then I’ll kill you.’

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

JULIET ENTERED THE building to the sounds of a repetitive creak, a slap slap slap, and a man’s grunts and groans. She realised what she was hearing and scrunched up her face, feeling awkwardly voyeuristic. But she had to continue. Unable to see their faces from her angle, she couldn’t tell who the man at the table was, nor the woman he was thrusting into, nor the guy who was handcuffed to a frame and throwing a black scarf in front of himself.

Have I walked in on some kind of BDSM club? She was about to clear her throat to draw attention to herself, but then she recognised those grunts … recognised the black tufty hair on the back of his head.

‘Austin?’

He turned and moved back from the woman, who appeared unnaturally still. Bewilderment and anger were mixed in his eyes. Bunched around his ankles were his trousers and underwear, revealing his bare legs. And the rest. Stupidly, Juliet felt more betrayed than she already had. Not only had Austin lied about his knowledge of her, and then tried to kill her, but now he was screwing another woman.

The guy fettered to the frame shifted suddenly. ‘Juliet?’

‘Nicolas?’ She frowned. ‘What is going on here?’ Her voice came out unexpectedly shrill, while she kept a wary eye on Austin.

Nicolas stared at her, as seemingly perplexed as Austin. ‘He handcuffed me and forced me to watch.’ Dropping the scarf, he stretched towards her with his free hand. ‘He killed my girlfriend and—’

‘Shut up, you!’ shouted Austin, struggling to pull his trousers up.

‘—he forced her spirit back into her body and—’

‘Shut up!’

‘—he raped her!’ His eyes were bloodshot and moist. ‘You have to get away from him! Leave me, I’ll be fine. Go find help!’

Juliet looked over at the lady slumped chest-down on the table, and moved to the side to get a view of her face. That woman’s dead? Swiftly, Austin reached out a hand towards the woman; the corpse raised its head. Juliet almost shrieked, jumping from the sudden shock. I thought she was dead … And then she recognised her from the news … She’s the girl who was abducted from the hotel.

Austin laughed mockingly, now trying with only one hand to yank up his jeans. ‘I told you, didn’t I?’ he said. ‘You don’t know half the things you can do with your power.’

The news report Juliet recalled had mentioned a lot of blood at the scene, and now she understood why. The gaping hole in the corpse’s throat turned her stomach. Then, remembering she’d had sex with Austin turned it over again. Somehow the sight seemed both worse and more bearable than when she saw Aldrich’s body with a knife sunk into it. That sight had brought her close to retching. Or had her reaction been caused by the panic of realising she was involved in a murder? Because right now she handled the nausea a whole lot better. It probably helped that there was no blood; the neck wound was pale, like a drained hunk of meat hung in a walk-in freezer.

Trying to grasp how the lifeless body was able to move, she reached out with her uncanny ability, directing it at the corpse. It was true: The woman’s spirit was in there. To Juliet it felt like seeing someone locked in a cage, desperate to get out but unable to call for help, unable to break through the bars. The ghost’s suffering was potent.

‘Let her spirit go,’ Juliet said instinctively. ‘Let her move on!’

Austin glared at her while he struggled to zip over his persistent erection. ‘I told you to drop this.’

Juliet took out her personal alarm.

‘Oh, as if!’ Austin huffed. ‘You’re using that stupid thing against me again?’

So many questions crashed about her head that they came in no good order. ‘Who are you? How did you know about Aldrich? Why are you doing all this?’ She tried to sound in control.

Now dressed and standing tall, Austin faced one of his palms at the dead woman. She rose from the table and stood by him. She was shorter than him by a head or so.

The fear that swept over Juliet was like nothing she’d experienced before—a sense that thousands of dark hands were stretching towards her from every direction, clawing away, trying to rip her apart. Nowhere to hide. Nowhere to run.

‘See what we can do, Juliet?’ Zeal saturated Austin’s voice. ‘Why don’t you join me? Why don’t you learn from me?’

She took a step back. ‘No.’ Her fist clenched the alarm tighter. ‘Now answer my questions or I’ll set this off.’

He glanced with disregard at the alarm in her hand. ‘You won’t set it off. The other buildings are too far away. No one would hear.’

‘Do you want to risk it?’

His face twitched. ‘If I get caught, I’ll tell the police what you did to Aldrich.’

‘Maybe you will tell them. But my guess is that you’d rather not get caught.’

He scoffed then smiled contemptuously, making horizontal slits out of his brown eyes. ‘Well, as you’ve already discovered, you don’t really know me at all.’ He flung one hand forward to point at her, signalling as if sending troops into battle, and the dead woman charged.

The plastic was smooth on Juliet’s thumb, but felt solid as she pressed it down. Click, and the siren began: weh-weh-weh-weh-weh-weh-weh! Ear-piercingly loud, it stabbed her eardrums and gave her organs a jolt. The corpse stopped in its tracks, and Juliet realised she’d successfully called Austin’s bluff; a brief panic ran over his face. For a moment, his eyes bore into her, as if he’d enjoy nothing more than tearing her head off, but instead he beckoned the dead woman with a gesture and then ran with her to the exit. Well, the corpse limped more than ran.

When they were out of sight, Juliet silenced the alarm to discover Nicolas shouting something. ‘Follow them! See where they go, if he gets in a car, registration plate …’ The scarf was back in his hand and he’d managed to hook something with it and drag it to him. ‘Quickly!’ he yelled.

She obeyed. She ran in the direction Austin had, which led her to a long hallway with an open fire exit at the end. The sound of an engine starting up floated down the hall as she neared the door. She pushed through just as a white van zoomed off, tyres crunching up grit in their speedy escape.

All she managed to glimpse was a sticker on the vehicle with the word ‘Rental’ on it, and pink blossoms clung to the exterior of the van. Some of the petals had blown off and now speckled the ground.

When Juliet had circled the factory earlier on, she didn’t spot the vehicle; it had been in a space behind a wall that extended from the building, which appeared to have once been a loading area. Frustrated that she hadn’t even caught the number plate, she rushed back inside to Nicolas.

He’d uncuffed himself by the time she returned and was rubbing at a deep red line on his wrist. For a second, seeing him unchained panicked Juliet. Why is he involved with Austin? It can’t be a coincidence … Is this some kind of setup? Would Nicolas do that? She certainly knew what his brother Tommy was capable of. But she didn’t think Nicolas was like that; he had subjugated the urge to kill Aldrich, and Juliet imagined most men would jump at the chance to avenge their mother’s death. But not him; his morals won out. Someone like that couldn’t devise a scene as twisted as this …

‘Did you see where they went?’ he asked, his voice ragged.

For some reason, Juliet felt as if she’d failed him. ‘They drove away in a white van.’

‘Did you see the registration plate?’

‘No.’

‘Did you see anything?’

‘Pink blossoms covered the van. The vehicle appeared rented,’ she answered curtly. ‘And don’t talk to me like that.’

Nick looked both angry and abashed. Tensions were running high for both of them, and Juliet understood that. When Aldrich had taken control of her, she’d been furious afterwards; right now she could only imagine how enraged Nicolas felt, having been restrained and made to witness what she’d only walked in on.

While Nicolas was silent, presumably trying to compose himself, Juliet thought, He didn’t have a girlfriend when we met before; or at least if he did, then he didn’t mention her. Selfishly, she became lost in the thought, considering the possibility that he’d let her kiss him while he was dating someone else. But then she remembered that the ‘someone’ she referred to was dead, and her spirit trapped in her body.

She gave Nicolas her eyes after a reasonable amount of time. His mouth opened like he was about to say more, but then he stopped at the sound of a mobile phone vibrating. He turned and looked down at the items on the floor before picking up and shoving his wallet and keys into his pockets. With a frustrated sigh, he said, ‘My manager’s calling because I’m supposed to be going back to work. One moment.’

Juliet watched him glance at the screen apprehensively before answering. ‘Hi, Mora … Yeah, sorry … It was all cheap and crappy stuff …’ He gave a conversational laugh, yet Juliet could see the misery in his face. And although he’d perked up his tone, there was a sad and sunken tinge he’d failed to mask. ‘I was on my way back and my car broke down … I was about to call you …’ He said nothing for ten seconds or so. ‘Okay. Thank you, Mora. I’m sorry about all this … Me? No, I’m fine … honestly … just annoyed my car’s playing up … Okay, bye.’ He hung up.

I see you’re still adept at lying, thought Juliet, though she kept it to herself. I’m one to talk … She bit down on her lip, thinking of her gran and Kim. I never used to lie. Ever … Apart from to myself.

Another sigh escaped Nicolas, then he said to Juliet, ‘I was supposed to finish at five, so she told me not to worry about going back in today.’ Quickly he shook his head. ‘Anyway, I … I didn’t mean to talk to you the way I did.’ He forced his eyes shut. ‘I just found out my girlfriend’s dead, and, and, he—’

‘It’s okay; you don’t have to—’

‘I do … I have to say it; I have to face it.’ He brought a clenched fist up to his face, pushing the knuckles into his chin and mouth. His eyes were teary and determined. ‘She’s dead,’ he spat the words. ‘He murdered her, defiled her, and now even in death he’s forcing her to suffer it all.’ In a voice that brought Juliet close to tears, he said, ‘I saw it in her eyes, Juliet. She’s suffering …’

‘I know, she is. I sensed it with my ability.’

They were both quiet for some time. Juliet was surprised by Nick’s control over his emotions. Back when he had discovered his mum was murdered, he’d sobbed in Juliet’s arms, his body convulsing. Here and now, though, there was a firmness in his eyes that seemed to say, ‘I’ve had enough of tears; I will get through this.’

He’s changed. Not only had he apparently found some emotional strength, he also appeared older. Or was that just because every time Juliet looked in the mirror she seemed more youthful, and so in contrast, Nick appeared to have aged more than her these past six months? Whatever the case, he gave off a stronger sense of presence than before. He’s moved forward in his life since we last saw each other … I went backwards in mine. Realising this only made her want to grab the reins of her future even more.

It was becoming cold inside the dim, capacious factory. ‘How do you know that man?’ asked Nick. ‘Austin, he told me to call him.’

‘I was going to ask you the same thing.’ Her voice sounded harder than she’d intended. ‘I met him a while ago, and we started … dating. But yesterday, when I became suspicious of him, he tried to kill me and attacked my grandmother.’

Nick put a hand to his forehead and looked down at the floor. After gripping his brown fringe in apparent distress, he gave Juliet his eyes. ‘If you know anything more about him, I need to know it. I … I just … I don’t know how you’re involved in this.’ He winced, rubbing his bright red wrist. ‘We need to talk, but not here. We should leave this place.’

‘And talk where?’

‘My car is nearby. It will have to do for now.’

‘What should we do with that scarf?’ She pointed. ‘And the handcuffs?’

Nick turned back to them, blinked hard, and then sunk his head into one of his palms. ‘Crap. I don’t know … I can’t take the scarf with me. It’s probably got Kerra’s blood on it …’ He cringed. ‘… or strands of hair … or something. If I take it and the police find it in my possession, then I’m screwed.’

Kerra; that must have been his girlfriend. Juliet recognised the name from the news report.

Nick continued, ‘But if we leave it here and someone else finds it, then the police might find evidence of us being here. We can’t leave anything behind.’

‘I never thought I’d be in this situation with you again,’ Juliet mumbled as she peered about the factory, ‘trying to find ways to destroy evidence.’ More powerfully, she said, ‘I never thought I’d see you again.’

Nick didn’t reply; he just looked at her with those set, bloodshot eyes and then used a key to unlock the handcuff hoop that was still connected to the metal frame. ‘I suppose I can wipe these down, and … I don’t know … wrap them in a bag and throw them in a public bin. Just have to find one with no CCTV nearby.’ He shook his head. ‘I don’t know what to do with the scarf.’

‘I’ll take it.’ What am I doing? ‘If you can just get me home with it, then I’ll burn it in my woodburner tonight.’ A kind of pity had urged her decision; she could see how hard Nick was trying to resolve their predicament, given the trauma he’d just faced. His determination made her want to help. Not only that, but she should be the one taking control of this situation. Running away didn’t help before. ‘There’s a man who lives a few houses down; he lights really foul-smelling bonfires. If anyone notices the smell, they’ll think it’s him. And I light my woodburner quite frequently anyway, so if they notice the smoke’s from my chimney, then they’ll just assume I’ve lazily put something unwanted in there along with the wood.’

‘You’ll really do that?’ His face became soft and unsure.

His doubt annoyed her, a little. ‘I know I walked away from what happened before … but I want to know what’s going on here too. If it means we can leave this factory and figure it out, then yes, I’ll do it.’

‘Alright.’ He bundled up the scarf and handcuffs under his armpit. ‘I hope the nearby factories haven’t caught us here on their cameras.’ His voice had a numbness to it, like he was sleep-talking. He headed off, treating Juliet almost as if she wasn’t there, like it made no difference whether she followed or not. But she did follow. On the way, Nick used the bottom of his tee-shirt to quickly wipe down handles and surfaces they might have touched.

They walked hastily, and Nick turned back to say, ‘How did you know I was in the factory?’

Juliet heard a scream and fast footsteps in her mind. She saw the fear in Samantha’s eyes. ‘I’ll explain in the car.’

They sat in the black Vauxhall Corsa and said nothing for a while. Juliet could tell whatever was on Nick’s mind should not be interrupted. At one point he opened his mouth wide, turning to her as if ready to talk, but then a grief-stricken look entered his eyes. He twisted back the other way and thumped his head back into the seat. He took loud and deep breaths, eyes closed, fists clenching.

He’s dealing with this quite well, Juliet reflected. He’s trying to stay strong. The sky was as white as it had been on the way to Etherby, and its dullness was depressing.

Nick huffed suddenly, sounding exasperated and bitterly amused. ‘A necromancer, for Christ’s sake,’ he mumbled.

Juliet frowned. ‘What? Sorry.’

‘Austin called himself a necromancer, someone who can reanimate dead bodies.’ Laughing to himself a little manically, he added, ‘If there was the option to play as a necromancer in a game, like a roleplaying game, I would always pick it.’ He shook his head and huffed again. ‘I won’t be doing that anymore …’

The word ‘necromancer’ meant nothing to Juliet; she’d never heard it before. She realised Nick was falling into cynical thoughts, and so she tried to progress with the matter at hand. ‘Where do you think Austin has gone? Should we be sitting here like this, or doing something?’

‘Erm, I’m not sure. He managed to break into my house yesterday, but I don’t think he would go straight there. He’s probably gone back to wherever he lives on the island. I’m going to call Tom, make sure he’s not going back to my house tonight.’

Juliet remembered Tom; he was the twin she liked. ‘Austin told me he’s staying with a friend on the island. I don’t know where, though. I’m going to check up on my gran too.’

So while Nick made a couple of phone calls (Juliet overheard parts and it sounded like he’d contacted his dad as well as Tom), Juliet rang Susan, who said she would stick by Lillian for the evening.

After the phone calls, Nick slumped down in the driver’s seat. He looked defeated.

Juliet would not let his determination dissipate, though. ‘I knew you were at the factory because I spoke with your mum’s spirit again.’

He sat upright. ‘Did she come to you? Is she okay?’

‘That’s the thing … I wanted to talk to her so I could find you. After Austin tried to kill me, he threatened to tell the police the truth about Aldrich’s death. I figured he must have known about your involvement too, so I used my ability to try to summon your mother’s spirit.’

‘You summoned her?’ he said, and Juliet wasn’t sure if he sounded annoyed, impressed, or something else entirely.

‘I think I did. But after she told me where to find you …’ How can I word this?

‘What? What happened?’

‘She said something in the Spiritworld was chasing her, and that I’d put her and myself in danger by summoning her. When she disappeared, I heard a scream, and it sounded like she was running.’

Nick stared at her and brought his eyebrows together. ‘Is she okay?’

‘I don’t know. She told me not to summon her again.’

‘Oh.’ Apparently stumped, he peered out the car window. When he looked back, he said, ‘We’ll have to figure that out later. Maybe you could try and summon her again. You don’t need to be sorry; I’d be dead if you hadn’t showed up.’

How many times have we saved each other now?

Nick continued, ‘This is getting crazy, isn’t it? Austin having an ability, me having one, you, Aldrich. Since we last met I’ve learnt I can see the past in my visions, as well as the future. Now you’re saying you can summon ghosts … You couldn’t do that before, could you? You told me they came to you.’

‘I tried it properly for the first time today. There’s more I should tell you, though. Before Austin attacked me, he revealed that he was soulless. Like me. He had a near-death experience too.’

The road Nick’s car was parked on was wide and quiet, a fair distance from the industrial estate. Juliet wondered how suspicious they looked. Nick appeared too flustered to care. He said, ‘You can force ghosts into dead bodies too?’

‘No … I don’t know. I’ve not tried it, obviously. Austin said I can do more with my ability than I realise.’ Recalling the suffering she’d felt oozing from Kerra’s spirit, she said, ‘But I never thought he meant something like that.’

‘If you can do more, then maybe you can help Kerra. While Austin interrogated me, he said there was no way to … to bring her back to how she was.’ He paused, pressing his eyes shut until he was ready to continue. ‘But I saw the horror in her eyes, and you sensed it too.’ He looked at Juliet as if she was his only hope. ‘Maybe you can release her from that.’

The weight of responsibility fell right on her. For a second she was wordless. I came here to find answers for me, to know why I was lied to and betrayed … but … She nodded firmly. ‘If I can help, I will.’ Before he put too much faith in her, she added, ‘But I can only try my best. I’ve never tried to force a spirit into or out of anything.’

Nick appeared to absorb her words. ‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘Austin told me he extracted information from Kerra’s ghost, like memories and details of her life. If he and you are the same’—he shook his head quickly—‘not the same, but have the same ability, then maybe you can do a lot more than you realise.’

Juliet shrugged. The only two people who could teach me these things would probably be Tamara or Austin himself. But it felt right to imagine doing some good with her ability. Being able to block out the spirits meant helping them wouldn’t have to become a burden. Maybe she could aid a few in need from time to time, then switch off her power and focus on her own life. Is my ignorance selfish? It can’t be my responsibility to help every spirit in need. ‘I suppose,’ she said thoughtfully, before changing the subject. ‘Why did Austin interrogate you?’

Although Nick shrugged, he answered, ‘He wanted to know about my ability, if I knew where it came from or of anyone else with the same power. He also wanted to know what I planned to do with it …’

‘How did he know what you can do?’

‘I don’t know; I don’t know where he found out anything about me.’ But then something must have clicked in his mind. He looked at Juliet sharply with his hazel eyes. ‘You … you were his lead.’

‘What are you talking about?’

‘Austin found me because he knew my first name, and that I worked at a Pagan shop. But he also said he had another lead …’

Juliet peered down to one side, confused. ‘I never told him about you.’

‘Right. So this is all just a coincidence?’

And then something clicked in Juliet’s head. She quickly explained why she had first become suspicious of Austin, how he had tripped himself up telling her and Roy different stories. Then she said, ‘Also, on our first date, he said he wanted to see everything there was to see in Amiton and visit all the crystal shops. I showed him to each one I knew of. But I avoided Creaky Crystals.’ She paused. ‘I didn’t want to bump into you.’

‘So how did he know I worked there?’

‘I don’t know. Maybe he became suspicious when I avoided it? He did ask me why I didn’t want to go in.’

It was clear Nick was getting worked up. ‘Well, when he came into my workplace and asked for me, he only knew my first name. Did he get that from you? I would have thought he’d have more to go on than just your discomfort around the shop.’

‘I never spoke about you to anyone. Why would I after what you involved me in before?’ As soon as she said it, she realised how unfair it was—she’d sought out Nicolas, and she’d gone to Grendel Manor out of her own choice—but Nick’s rising frustration got the better of her. ‘For all you know, he could have asked for a Nicolas in all of the Pagan shops. Maybe he just used me to locate them all.’

‘He could have used the Internet for that.’

‘Fine. Sure.’ She gave in.

‘What’s the matter?’

‘You’re acting like it’s my fault. Like I led him to you.’

‘Oh.’ He seemed taken aback, his face flushing. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘No, it’s not a problem. I know it wasn’t my fault. I didn’t wake up and decide to do business with a psychopath.’

‘I don’t think he’s a psychopath,’ said Nick, apparently taking an analytical approach to her comment. ‘Psychopaths don’t have feelings, or at least they don’t feel them to the extent most people do. But Austin … He’s got deep emotional issues ... He resents me because he thinks that I think I’m above him or something, or that I’m better looking than him. He assumed I was popular at school, and that I’ve had an easy life …’ He gave a little incredulous laugh. ‘I think he was jealous.’

Nick’s theory seemed accurate to Juliet, but she was unsure why. ‘We still don’t know where he got your first name from, or how he knew you worked in a Pagan shop. Why would he target you when he doesn’t even know you?’

For a long moment Nick was silent. Juliet found herself staring at his lips, remembering when she’d spontaneously kissed them. Quickly, she scolded herself. How can I even think about that now? It wasn’t like she wanted to kiss him at the moment. Austin’s betrayal was too fresh. But she couldn’t look at Nicolas now and not remember the attraction she’d felt before.

‘It has to be something to do with what Austin knows about Aldrich’s death,’ said Nick.

‘Why wouldn’t he just go to the police, though?’ With annoyance, Juliet anticipated another long period of silence and thinking.

But Nick suddenly exclaimed, ‘The portal!’ His eyes widened. ‘That’s it! Do you remember on Aldrich’s land, when the portal spoke to me in my head? I never got a chance to tell you everything it said ... It asked for my full name, but because I didn’t trust it, I made an effort to distract my mind so it couldn’t read my thoughts. It had already learnt my first name, though. I must have also thought about my workplace for some reason, but not clearly enough to distinguish which Pagan shop I work at. Then the portal tried to tempt me through to the other side, but, as you know, we had to run off … and it exploded when we did.’

Juliet sat dumbstruck, her lips parted. Eventually she said, ‘I always greet people with my full name. I gave it to the portal without thinking.’ She’d realised it was a mistake back then, straight after giving her name away, but she never thought it could lead to consequences like this. I need to break that habit.

‘So do you think it was Austin on the other side?’

Juliet considered. ‘But it was ...’

‘Telepathic?’

‘Yes … telepathic.’ She said the word as if testing it for flavour. ‘If Austin is telepathic, then he would have picked up on my suspicions about him sooner than he did. And why would he verbally interrogate you if he could read your mind?’

‘Maybe this sounds crazy, but what if it wasn’t him or whatever was on the other side that was reading our minds, but that the portal’s only way of transferring communications was telepathically?’ Nick said all this as if he’d dwelt on the theory before. ‘I remember aiming my thoughts at the portal, just expecting whatever was on the other side to hear them. But it wasn’t just the person on the other side reading us; we could hear their thoughts too.’

Juliet found it hard to respond. She wanted to keep the conversation moving forward, but felt her mind trying to shut it all out. It was all so ridiculous. A woman who sees the dead is sitting here talking to a psychic about a necromancer and a telepathic portal … and I’m about to suggest we go see a …

‘Are you struggling with this?’ Nick took her attention. ‘After everything we know about.’

‘Yes. Yes, I am. I’ve spent the months since I last saw you trying to block out my ability, trying to move on from what I witnessed. Then yesterday, I found out Austin had been lying to me the whole time. I also discovered I might be immortal, and on top of that, Austin broke my gran’s hip when he attacked her.’ Not expecting her own outburst, she had to stop and take a breath. There was so much for Nick to respond to, and she understood that, so she tried to cool herself down.

Weakly, Nick said, ‘I’m sorry to hear about your gran.’

Juliet shook her head. ‘I don’t want sympathy. Complaining like this isn’t what I do. It’s only, with what happened to Aldrich, I thought that would be the darkest moment of my life, the worst thing I’d ever see …’

Nick put his left hand on her shoulder and just kept it there. His touch sobered her, reminded her of touching Austin, having him in bed. She heard the creak creak and the slap slap slap and then saw the throatless corpse. Her stomach gave a tilt. Pushing the thoughts away, she said, ‘Sorry.’ She cleared her throat, lent strength to her voice. ‘Let’s get on with this and figure out what to do.’

But seeming unable to contain it, Nick said, ‘You might be immortal?’ His eyes had woken up and were full of wonder. ‘You can’t just say that and expect me not to ask questions.’

Juliet nodded solemnly. ‘I might be.’

‘How amazing is that?’

‘Amazing?’ She looked at him disgustedly. Thoughts barraged her. I’ll outlive everyone I know, watch them age and die. I’ll be a freak, maybe experimented on by scientists. I could live through wars and wars and wars. I’ll see the planet run dry of resources … I might end up the only human left, or maybe I’ll be stuck with others like me and Austin: immortals damaged by the years. ‘I don’t want to be immortal,’ she said bluntly. ‘I don’t even want to think about it right now.’

Nick looked at her as if she’d sprouted nine eyes. ‘Seriously?’

‘Yes.’

‘Okay …’ He turned his lips down, raising his eyebrows. ‘Well, if you are immortal, then does that mean Austin is too?’

‘That’s what he told me.’

‘Jesus,’ Nick sighed out.

Juliet wanted to get the show on the road, so she suggested something. ‘There’s only one person who’s been able to tell me anything definite about my ability. She knows about the Otherworld, and she’s the only person I can think of who might help us.’

‘You want to bring someone else into this?’

‘I do … I think we should ask Tamara Trewin.’

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

‘THE FAMOUS MEDIUM?’ said Nick. ‘Or witch … or whatever?’

‘Yes. You know who she is.’

‘I know of her …’ he corrected. Every word he uttered felt like torture to get out. I should be grieving … I shouldn’t be dealing with this so well. ‘Should we really bring anyone else into this? We would have to tell her about Aldrich.’

That seemed to really make Juliet stop and think. ‘I’ve been going to sessions with her for a few months now, to gain more control of my ability. Although I’ve not really seen her demonstrate it, she says she has power of her own. I think if she believes us about what you can do and what Aldrich could do, then I can’t imagine she would turn us in.’

Nick’s mind was becoming so numb he struggled to think. But one thought came through the fog: Blossoms. There was something significant about the pink petals Juliet said had covered Austin’s van, but he couldn’t figure what. ‘Juliet, Austin said he used some kind of enchanted item, putting it inside of Kerra’s body to keep her from ... decomposing. Do you think Tamara will know anything about this item? If she truly has some … magic’—he said the word awkwardly—‘then I bet she can enchant things. She might be able to tell us more.’

‘I’ve seen herbs, incense, wands, and all types of things in her home. I’ve never seen her use most of it, but I suppose …’

Nick’s mind drifted to memories of Kerra. He could hear her singing, hear the patter of water, feel humid air in his throat and see the mirror steamed up. We liked to shower together, but whenever I got out, she would stay in, singing, wanting me to watch her. Vaguely aware that Juliet was still talking, he tried to focus on his body. It felt like there was a hole in his heart: a once-flourishing piece he’d clung onto, knowing it had belonged to Kerra, believing Kerra would return alive and keep adding to it. But now it was a void. Or maybe it was numb, so stupefied it seemed empty. Unfortunately, the only part of him that didn’t feel deadened was his wrist. It throbbed sorely, practically glowing a garish red.

‘Nicolas?’ Juliet drew his attention.

‘Sorry. We need to decide if we are doing this, then. Once we tell the medium everything, we can’t go back on it.’ He watched Juliet’s cerulean eyes deliberate the matter. ‘I’m fed up of keeping it all in my head. There are still things I need to tell you about that day at Grendel Manor. If Tamara can help us find out more about Austin, then let’s take the risk.’

‘Okay.’ Juliet sounded resolute. ‘I’ll call her to let her know we’re coming. Start driving towards Willow.’

And so he did. Very quietly he could hear the dial tone go on and on, and then out of the corner of one eye, he saw Juliet hang up. ‘She’s not answering her home phone. I’ll try her mobile.’ This time Nick didn’t even hear the tones. ‘I think she’s switched it off. When I’m in a session with her, she normally turns her mobile off and ignores her home phone.’

‘We’ll have to show up unexpected, then.’

While he drove, he thought about Juliet. If he could feel anything right now, one definite emotion would be uncomfortable (aside from grieving, of course). He remembered the instant attraction he’d felt the first time he saw Juliet in person. She was gorgeous. But now she looked somehow even better, with an almost ethereal quality to her. It must be to do with her immortality, he realised, and just thinking about it made his head swirl. Immortality; there’s something to dwell on later. But he stopped his musings when a voice popped into his head and told him it was wrong to dwell on Juliet.

He heard Kerra singing.

Still in Etherby, he spotted an empty park that backed on to a row of council houses with tiny gardens. He pulled over, scanned the inside of his car, and noticed a plastic bag poking out from under Juliet’s chair. He made her aware of it and she passed it to him. He put the handcuffs inside, tied the carrier shut, and then got out of the vehicle.

The park was the size of a small football pitch. Actually, there were dented and dilapidated goalposts at either side. Nick located a bin and tried to appear casual when he threw the bag inside.

On his return to the car, he decided to tell Juliet everything. They needed to come up with a plan, but there were just too many unsaid things bogging him down. ‘Do you know who else was immortal, or at least a lot older than he looked?’ he said, back in his seat.

Juliet seemed startled. ‘Aldrich?’ She shook her head slowly. ‘He wasn’t like me, was he?’

‘I don’t think so. Unless you can control minds …’ Miserably amused by the notion, he started the car back up and resumed driving. ‘But in the woods, he told me he’d been given longevity by a god called Moloch that he worshipped.’

‘Moloch?’ The way she said it suggested she’d never heard the name before.

‘There’s more …’ He quickly told her about the sacrifices Aldrich had made to his god. Even if it was unfair to dump this truth on Juliet, Nick finally felt a definite wave of relief. Within seconds, though, the numbness returned.

He twisted and saw that Juliet’s face had gone pale. ‘He sent children through the portal? To whom? To what? Do you think they were sent through to Austin?’

‘Maybe.’ He considered it to the extent he could manage. ‘If he truly is immortal, then it could have been him posing as Moloch and taking advantage of Aldrich’s delusion and power.’

Suddenly raising her voice, Juliet said, ‘Why didn’t you tell me this before?’ Her hands shook in Nick’s periphery.

‘What? In between everything that happened that day? Or do you mean afterwards, when you told me never to contact you again?’ He was almost shouting himself towards the end of the sentence, which was strange, considering his deadened emotions. He pulled over. ‘We obviously need to talk, and I already don’t think I’m in the best state to drive, so let’s get everything out now.’

‘I don’t want to argue,’ she said plainly.

Nick gave a big shrug and a huff. ‘Neither do I. I just … I wish you hadn’t walked away from it all. You were unfair.’ He looked uncomfortably at her face. It was hard, her muscles pulled towards her eyes and nose.

She averted her gaze and admitted, ‘You’re right.’

‘Then why did you do it? Actually, don’t answer just yet. I understand some of the reasons you did it: You were distressed over Tommy murdering Aldrich, and you didn’t want to be involved with us in case we were caught. But why did you walk away from me, after you sought me out, and you wanted to come along, and then you kissed me?’ Once the words were out, he wondered where they had come from. I never thought of it like that before.

Juliet mumbled something and looked out of the window. She seemed less forward than Nick remembered her; before, she’d been ardent in her opinions and quick to voice them, and she’d even come across a bit cold and hard-hearted. Has she had it rough since Aldrich’s death? He began to sympathise, but told himself, I wouldn’t know. If she had reached out to me, I would have supported her. Would she be so forgiving if this were turned around? She’s the one who told me you shouldn’t coddle people, that you should let them learn from their own mistakes.

‘Nicolas … I know it makes no difference now, but I did want to get to know you. I wanted to go on that date we talked about. But Tommy killing Aldrich caught me off guard. I didn’t know how to handle it, so I panicked and let us make the deal with Ryan. The thought of seeing you, and of seeing your brother Tommy … I didn’t want to be reminded of what I witnessed.’ Then, very seriously, she said, ‘I didn’t want to be reminded of my mistakes.’

Her honesty had an effect on Nick. After some consideration, he decided her explanation was enough for him. ‘Okay. Well, it hasn’t been easy for me and my brothers either, but I understand.’ He let out a long breath. ‘Anyway, it’s wrong talking about what happened between … us.’ Us? I shouldn’t even say that. ‘Kerra’s suffering. I should be focusing on helping her.’

There was an awkward silence for a while, but Juliet broke it with, ‘Did Ryan know about the children?’

‘I’m not sure. If Aldrich had enslaved him for as many years as he told us, then he probably knew something. He knew Aldrich was involved in my mum’s disappearance.’ Nick covered his face with the palm of his hand, muffling his voice. ‘This is so screwed up. Aldrich told me he used to burn the children alive, before Moloch apparently found him and demanded they be sent through the portal … or into the light, as Aldrich called it. You’ll probably recognise the name of one of the missing kids: Katie Baker. The story was in the news a lot, and her parents are still looking for her.’

The shock on Juliet’s face was hard for Nick to bear. ‘I know the girl you mean. Her parents have been to my café before. They live in Chanton …’ Her expression contorted a little. ‘That poor girl.’

‘Yeah. And a boy named Marcus Luck disappeared a couple of years before my mum did. I’m not certain, but I think it was Aldrich too. He’s probably to blame for most cases of missing children on this island … and if he is, then it could lead back nearly five hundred years.’

‘Why five hundred? How could you know that?’

‘Ryan.’

‘Ryan?’ she said sharply, as if Ryan’s name were synonymous with the Devil’s. ‘You’ve been in touch with him?’

‘No. But I received a letter from him shortly after he burnt Aldrich’s body. In the letter, he explained that Aldrich once told him about the Lansin Island Witches, about what really happened to them. Apparently, Aldrich used his mind control to cause the islanders’ paranoia himself. He had them build the platforms and burn the accused. He was under the delusion that Moloch had ordered him to.’

‘That can’t be true,’ said Juliet, but with little conviction. ‘Should we tell Tamara about this? She’s the only remaining descendant, after all.’

‘Maybe … If we want her to keep our secrets and trust us, then I suppose we should be honest with her.’ Then he had an idea. ‘Or, actually, maybe that’s how we can be sure she doesn’t call the police on us. Say to her that we’ll only tell her what we know if she promises to help.’

Juliet didn’t look disgusted, but she didn’t look happy either. ‘Bribe her?’

‘I suppose that’s what you’d call it.’

‘No, Nicolas. We shouldn’t put it across like that. If we just tell her what we know, then she’ll be more inclined to help us anyway.’

Nick saw her point and stopped himself from automatically arguing his case. Juliet seemed to put a lot of trust in the witch, considering she’d been recently deceived. Cautiously, Nick said, ‘Okay. So … I think I’ve told you everything I hadn’t before.’

‘Ughh!’ Juliet practically growled, shaking herself so violently that she made Nick jump. ‘Ryan creeps me out so much. I wish we’d never made that deal with him.’ She pressed her hands onto the dashboard, pushing down until her skin was white. With obvious reluctance, she said, ‘But he did keep his promise … and we’re not in prison.’

‘God’s sake, Juliet.’ Nick’s heart pounded. ‘You nearly frightened me to death.’

‘I didn’t mean to.’ She took her hands back and then sat up straight. ‘I felt really tense. My body’s so full of energy. It’s been like this for a while now …’ She was plainly uncomfortable saying this aloud, and went quiet for a second. Nick’s mind ran rampant with all the possibilities immortality held. He snapped out of it when Juliet made another sound of frustration. ‘To think Ryan not only murdered my best friend’s ex so he could be with her, but that he also let Aldrich sacrifice children …’ She stopped. Nick watched her close her eyes in an attempt to compose herself. ‘I’ve had so many nightmares over Aldrich, felt so much guilt, but now I feel almost happy he’s dead. If I ever agreed with the death sentence, it would be for people like that. People sick enough to harm children.’

But the fact he stabbed my mum to death wasn’t good enough for you … Murdering an adult, a wife, a mother; that’s only worthy of a prison sentence, is it? He had to clamp his mouth shut to avoid saying these things aloud. When he felt he could speak again, he said, ‘It’s good he’s dead. I know I couldn’t have killed him myself, and it’s hard to look at my brother knowing he did, but after all the pain that man caused people, and all the pain he would have continued causing …’ He looked into Juliet’s eyes. ‘He had to die.’

Juliet gave an almost imperceptible nod. ‘It’s done now anyway. At least no other lives can be ruined by him.’

I want to fix the lives that have already been ruined. ‘When the portal spoke to me in my head, it told me the children were better off on the other side. But still, I want to find out what happened to them.’ An urge to justify his words stopped the momentum. He came up with a way to say it before continuing. ‘I’m not trying to sound like some kind of hero, like I’ll save the children!, but I know how it feels to be in the dark about the fate of someone you love. It’s been tearing me apart, knowing more about their fates than their own parents do.’

Juliet had pity in her eyes. ‘I’m sorry, Nicolas; I asked Tamara before if there was any way to the Otherworld. She said there wasn’t.’

Oh … ‘Maybe she was lying.’

‘Why would she lie?’ Juliet sounded defensive.

Nick’s energy began to run low. He muttered, ‘Never mind. We’ll be talking to her soon anyway.’ Then he wondered something. ‘So have you been in contact with Ryan? Is he still with your friend? Kim, isn’t it? I remember you explaining it all at the manor.’

‘Yes, he’s still with her,’ she said, tension distorted her voice. ‘They are on holiday in Rhodes at the moment, but I’ve been checking up on her as much as possible, calling and texting to see how their relationship is. Since that day at Grendel Manor, I’ve only seen Ryan in person a couple of times. I have to be careful not to arouse suspicion, but if he starts acting hostile towards Kim, or tries anything, I’ll … I’ll …’

‘Kill him?’ Nick provided.

‘I’ll have to do something,’ she said, and looked frustrated with herself.

‘But we made a deal with him. You can’t ever tell Kim.’

‘She’s my best friend,’ Juliet said sharply. ‘It’s bad enough I’m lying to her as it is. I can’t bear the thought of her being harmed because of me. Or for any reason.’

The numbness began to fade, Nick’s emotions returning in its place. It didn’t take long before he felt miserable and unsure of everything. ‘We’ll have to see how things go. There’s not much more you can do than keep an eye on your friend. Ryan hasn’t betrayed us so far, so let’s hope being free of Aldrich has given him a chance to change.’

Juliet huffed a lone, sceptical laugh. ‘How can anyone redeem themself after killing someone?’

Maybe Nick would have agreed with her point of view a year ago, but they both knew the events that had transpired. Her comment annoyed him so much, he had to bite his tongue again.

‘Oh.’ Juliet’s voice became soft and sorry. ‘I wasn’t referring to Tommy … I didn’t mean that …’ But she had the decency to let it trail off. People over-justifying themselves was one thing Nick despised. ‘How are your family getting on?’ she asked, sounding genuine. ‘How has your dad been since you told him everything?’

Nick sucked up his irritation. ‘Tommy didn’t seem very affected by what he did, but since then, Tom has come out as gay, which has caused some problems. Basically, Tommy isn’t cool with it. So he’s ignoring Tom. Dad is a completely different person now, in a good way, I think.’ He took a second to contemplate it, and decided he definitely liked the way his dad reached out to people more these days—even with the awkward moments. ‘He took the news hard at first, but now he seems to want to enjoy life again.’

A modest smile was on Juliet’s face. ‘I’m glad your dad is doing okay.’ She said nothing about Tommy.

‘Me too. We couldn’t tell him everything, of course, like he doesn’t know about your ability or mine or that my mum appeared to you as a ghost. Neither do my brothers, actually. Instead, I had to tell them that when you were younger, my mum drove past you on the way to Grendel Manor and stopped to ask for directions. When you saw in the news later that my mother had gone missing, you didn’t tell anybody because you were young and unsure of what to do, unsure if it was even the same woman who had spoken to you. Well, you would have been seventeen, I think, but anyway, that’s the excuse I gave to Dad and the twins. I told them you only sought me out after recalling the memory and then searching for the old news reports to find us.

‘Finally, I told Dad that by coincidence you knew the man Aldrich had forced to work for him, and that because we unintentionally freed him, he agreed to clear up the evidence. I think my dad would have been just as worried and surprised as me and my brothers were the next morning, when we heard about the body at The Burning Grounds, and later on when we heard about Grendel Manor, but Dad was in shock. He kind of hid away for a couple of weeks. When we spoke afterwards, he said he was just glad to know the truth and he hoped we’d all get away with it scot-free.’

By the end of Nick’s narrative, Juliet had hung her head. She blinked slowly. ‘I’m sick of lies, Nicolas. If I thought I saw a woman who’d gone missing, I would have told the police, even if I doubted what I saw. There’s no way I would have left it for so many years.’ She sighed. ‘But … I understand why you told your dad that.’

‘I’m sick of lying too. It feels like a pressure, building with every lie I stack on top. I wish I could just tell everyone everything.’

Juliet nodded. ‘Me too.’ She looked ahead impatiently, an unsubtle hint that they should get back on the road. ‘But let’s find out more ourselves before we think of telling others the truth.’

Without responding, Nick started up the car and they continued on their way to Willow. All the talking had cleared his head somewhat, allowing him to think on what had happened … and grow angry over it. It was like he was being tested. The only other time he’d felt so enraged was when he’d almost murdered Aldrich. Is this a test?
Because I struggled so much the first time, is life saying, ‘Here you go, Nick, have another shot! But this time, either outright kill the man you hate or just leave him be. Don’t beat him near to death and then change your mind, you conflicted fool!’? He surprised himself with a laugh, though he was far from cheerful.

‘Are you alright, Nicolas?’ he heard Juliet’s voice.

‘Fine and dandy,’ he muttered. Luckily, he was entering the hamlet and could stop driving soon. ‘Which way is it?’ he asked his passenger without turning to her.

‘Head towards the centre where the willow tree is.’ Being such a tiny place, it took less than a minute to reach the tall willow tree slap-bang in the middle of the hamlet. ‘Park anywhere around here. Her house is just there.’ Juliet pointed, and soon they were out of the vehicle.

As Nick followed Juliet, he noticed how tired his body and mind were. The clarity of his thoughts began to slip. Juliet led him to a well-kept cottage with vines crawling across the walls. Parked out the front was a bright purple Volkswagen Beetle with alloys of the same shade. Nick found himself saying, ‘Is that Tamara’s car?’ with a little huff of amusement. Better to laugh than cry, he told himself, whether he believed it or not.

Juliet looked back over her shoulder. ‘I assume so. It’s been here every time I’ve visited.’

Nick vaguely knew what the medium looked like, having seen her in the media before, and from the image that came to mind, he visualised her to be as quirky as her car.

He stood aside when Juliet knocked, remembering they were uninvited. It took a long time for an answer. When the door opened, he heard, ‘Juliet. Is something the matter? I’m in the middle of an appointment.’ Then the famous medium saw him. ‘Oh,’ she said, and frowned at him solemnly. ‘Let me speak with my client; I’ll be right back.’ She closed the door.

Did she recognise me? When Nick turned to Juliet, she seemed to be thinking the same thing. She shook her head. ‘I don’t know what that was about.’

Nick heard movement and pivoted on the spot to hide his face. With the investigation into Kerra’s abduction still underway, he figured being seen with an apparent stranger, who just so happened to be an extremely attractive woman, might look suspicious. The door clicked open behind him. A woman said in an almost too understanding tone that it was fine, honestly, and she would see Tamara in a few days’ time. Nick rotated to remain unseen.

‘Money down the drain,’ said the orange-haired witch quietly, when her client was out of earshot. She elongated every word. To Juliet she gave a short glare, and to Nick a measured look. ‘Come inside,’ she said, her voice grave.

Nick followed Juliet into the cottage and ended up in a small living area full of witchy doodads. The ceiling was fairly low, giving him a sense of claustrophobia, and on the floor was a floral rug. Tamara sat down in a fabric chair near an open fireplace after packing away items that had been scattered on the rug. When Juliet perched herself on a loveseat, Nick joined her. The two-person sofa was so little that his right leg pressed up against her left. The warmth radiating from her thigh made him uncomfortable. He spotted another chair in the corner Tamara hadn’t chosen, but to get up and swap seats now would be too awkward.

‘So, why have you come here?’ asked Tamara, aiming her query at Juliet. The witch wore a black robe that made her look very Halloweenish, especially with the ginger of her hair. In appearance she didn’t near the age Nick had thought she must be. Although she certainly looked no spring chicken either.

‘We want your help,’ said Juliet. ‘This is Nicolas.’ She gestured to him. ‘I never told you before who it was that saved my life, but it was him. He’s the reason I’m displaced.’ To Nick, she said, ‘This is Tamara.’

Tamara squinted, creasing her otherwise proud skin. ‘It’s lovely to meet you, Nicolas,’ she said with reserved warmth.

Forgetting his manners (or rather, not caring about them right now), he asked, ‘Did you already know who I was?’

‘Why would I know you?’ She shifted in her seat.

‘You seemed to recognise me when we arrived.’

The witch took her time answering, but when she did so it was without averting eye contact. ‘I don’t know you.’ She returned her attention to Juliet. ‘So, the help you require?’

‘It’s going to take a lot of explaining. And we need your promise that you won’t betray our confidence.’

Tamara raised a hand. ‘Juliet. I’m no fool. I don’t make promises before I know what’s entailed.’ She sounded impatient …

… and Nick was impatient, so he butted in. ‘We know something about your ancestors that you don’t. We know how and why they were burnt alive, and who was truly behind it.’ Juliet tensed her leg against his. Whether to get his attention or not, he didn’t care.

Tamara cocked her head back and squinted one eye as if to assess Nick. She looked a little unhinged. ‘They were murdered by their neighbours, their friends, and their own families,’ she said, a deadly edge to her words. Nick found her voice interesting, with its earthy tone, but at this moment it was full of indignation. ‘It was their leaders’ fear-mongering that took these small-minded people and filled them with hate.’

‘No.’ Nick recalled what he’d been taught in history lessons at school. ‘It wasn’t the figures we all know of who started it …’ He spoke with a confidence he hoped would breed doubt in the medium’s mind. ‘They were just pawns to someone else.’

Very, very slowly, Tamara clasped her hands together on her lap. ‘You have no right to use your supposed knowledge against me.’

‘Nicolas,’ Juliet said sternly, and let silence give her authority. ‘I’m sorry, Tamara. We spoke on the way here and I told him we wouldn’t use this against you. That we could trust you.’

With rising anger, Nick thought, Thanks for undermining me, Juliet. ‘Well, at the moment we are just sitting here getting nowhere. Can we trust you or not, Tamara? Because the things we are about to tell you will sound unreal, and once you know it all you will either have to keep it secret or—’

‘Turn you in?’ Tamara finished, her eyebrows flicking up. When Nick and Juliet stayed silent, an enigmatic smile came to the medium’s face.

Nick turned to Juliet. Their eyes met, inches apart. It was awkward enough already, but now he was remembering the last time his face had been this close to hers. He was pretty certain the memory crossed her mind too, because she looked away hurriedly.

‘Turn us in for what?’ asked Juliet, playing innocent.

Tamara stared back. ‘You know what.’ She pushed herself up to stand, then sighed and sarcastically declared, ‘Well, this is bloody fantastic!’ Hearing her swear surprised Nick, but the witch continued, unashamed. ‘None of this has gone to plan. I need to make a call.’ Already she was pulling her mobile from her dark robe and switching it on.

‘What do you mean?’ said Nick. ‘Who are you calling?’

The medium flicked her wrist at him as if he was rude for interrupting her, even though her phone hadn’t managed to load yet. ‘Stupid thing,’ she said. She must have realised it would take some time to switch on, because she said, ‘Sorry … You asked what I meant? I suppose I was hoping you two were going to be more clueless than you appear to be, so I could avoid telling you anything. Then afterwards I would have spoken to my … superior.’ She stopped and grinned to herself in amusement. ‘Superior! Not my superior, sorry. Back to the point, there is more going on than the pair of you realise, and, quite honestly, I do not want the hassle of listening to you both while I pretend to know nothing. Plus, you would only have to repeat yourself when the person I am calling gets here.’

Nick tensed up. ‘What?’

Juliet added, ‘You’re bringing someone here?’

‘Someone who knows what has been happening to you,’ the witch clarified.

‘To me?’ asked Juliet.

‘No, not to you. To Nicolas.’

Instinctively, Nick looked over his shoulder as if someone were watching him. He felt suddenly freaked out. ‘Somebody else knows what I’ve been going—’

‘Stop asking questions, the both of you. I’m making the call now.’ Tamara moved towards the end of the confined room, where there was a small doorway into a kitchen. Because she kept turning away and walking slightly into and out of the room, Nick didn’t hear all that she said. He only picked up, ‘Yes, come here as soon as possible,’ ‘I hardly care what I was supposed to do,’ ‘That’s not my problem, James,’ ‘No, you can explain it to them,’ and ‘You are wasting time now; set off already.’

Tilting her head to Nick, Juliet whispered, ‘Do you know anybody called James?’

‘No,’ he answered automatically, though it wasn’t strictly true. He’d known someone at school called James, but couldn’t see how he’d be connected. His brother Tommy had a friend by the same name, too, but again, no apparent link.

‘He’s on his way.’ Tamara informed them amiably, as if she’d done a favour. She sat back down. ‘Now, Nicolas,’ she began, very sombrely, ‘I honestly don’t know what you meant about my ancestors’ true past, but before you leave my home, you will tell me everything.’

There was a tense moment. Nick gritted his teeth. ‘I’ll tell you if you help us.’ The image of Kerra’s torn throat assaulted his mind’s eye.

Tamara appeared to notice his distress. ‘When my friend gets here, we will discuss a plan. I see that you are unhappy, and I don’t like to see people upset, but you have both taken me unawares. I was not appropriately prepared for this myself.’ She closed her eyes for a long moment, then gradually opened them. ‘I have a feeling this is going to take longer than I had hoped. I will need to make some calls and rearrange my evening appointments.’ The witch got up and walked to the kitchen, her mobile in hand.

As soon as Nick heard her on the phone, he whispered to Juliet, ‘Are we safe here? Do you think we should leave?’

Juliet tutted quietly. ‘Tamara’s been helping me learn how to use my ability. I trust her.’

Nick began to question Juliet’s judgement, considering who she’d dated. ‘It seems Tamara’s been lying to you,’ he said, and sensing Juliet’s doubt made him feel somewhat guilty. Annoyingly, he was becoming hypersensitive now that his numbness was gone. He wanted to grieve the loss of Kerra, not sit here feeling resentful towards Juliet. He kept getting the urge to say, ‘Oh, and thanks for undermining me,’ but it wouldn’t help; he’d probably just become more emotional.

‘Let’s wait and find out why she’s been lying. I don’t even want to consider the possibility of more betrayal right now, so I’ll give her the benefit of the doubt.’ It was plain to Nick that Juliet was less confident in her words than she made out.

‘Fine.’ And so they waited. Tamara offered them both a drink when she was done making calls. Juliet accepted a glass of water, and after Nick watched the witch run it from the tap, he accepted water, too. He hadn’t noticed how dry his mouth had been until he gulped the drink ferociously. The liquid took away the taste that had fomented during his interrogation. Tears always turned his mouth sour.

A knock sounded at the door. Tamara said, ‘He’s here,’ and went to answer it. From where Nick was sitting, he couldn’t see the newcomer enter, but he heard his deep and monotone voice.

‘Tamara,’ the new addition said as a greeting, sounding not so friendly.

‘Don’t look at me like that, James,’ Nick heard the witch say. ‘I am not to blame for this.’

James entered. The man was so tall he had to arch his neck, and his curly hair rubbed against the ceiling. Some tendrils from his mini afro rested across his gaunt face.

Nick shot to his feet and took a step back. ‘You?!’

‘Yes. Don’t wet yourself. I know you’ve seen me before.’ The man held up his palms in a mocking ‘calm down’ gesture. ‘Sit back down so I can explain.’

‘You were there when Kerra was taken,’ Nick went on. ‘You were running away from the hotel. Are you working with Austin?’ His body had woken up completely, and he could see Juliet perched towards the end of the couch, ready to react. Nick hadn’t accurately grasped the man’s height the times he’d seen him before; he must have been near seven feet tall.

Tamara walked around the curly-haired guy and stood in front of him. ‘Nicolas. Please sit again. You’ll soon discover that none of this is quite so simple as you imagine.’

Nick waited for the new arrival to sit first. When James placed himself down in the chair across from Tamara’s corner, Nick reluctantly re-joined Juliet on the couch.

James looked ridiculous in the tiny chair; with such long legs, his knees poked up high, and his gangly arms hung almost to the floor. Another thing Nick hadn’t noticed before was the man’s eye colour … or eye colours, more accurately. One was a piercing blue, and the other was the same colour except for an unnaturally bright orange splodge covering half of it. Is he wearing contacts?

Once Tamara was seated, she said, ‘I’ll introduce my friend.’ She laughed and turned to James. ‘I was so taken off guard that I referred to you as my superior earlier.’ She huffed, as if the notion was ludicrous. James chuckled in a low tone, but he sounded unhappy like before. ‘Let us move on … Juliet, Nicolas, this is James Rea.’

‘My surname is spelt R-E-A, but pronounced ray,’ James clarified in a miserable manner, though Nick failed to see the importance of it.

‘Seeing as you were stalking outside my house the other night, I get the idea you already know who I am,’ said Nick.

James’s face was still. Only his lips moved. ‘I do. I also know a little about Juliet.’

‘Then just start explaining already.’

‘Okay,’ the newcomer began. ‘Tamara and I know you both have something to do with Aldrich Grendel’s death, and I’ve been watching you, Nicolas, for a while now.’

That sent prickles up Nick’s spine. ‘Are you undercover, working for the police or something?’ he asked, but then remembered the way this man had vanished around the corner at the end of his street.

‘No. I’ve been trying to protect you.’

Nick huffed through his nose. ‘You realise I was nearly killed today? I would have been if Juliet hadn’t saved me.’

James’s expression revealed that he’d had no clue. Red crept up his neck.

‘Why are you trying to protect me, anyway?’

James cleared his throat. He flicked his eyes from Tamara to Juliet, then landed them back on Nick. ‘Because you’re an oracle.’

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

DREAD FORMED IN Juliet’s gut. Tamara’s obviously been hiding things from me. She sat waiting next to Nick, wondering what his response to James would be.

‘An oracle? That’s what the por—’ Nick stopped.

Juliet half turned to him. They hadn’t told Tamara or James about the portal yet.

‘What the portal called you?’ James said, and laughed a little derisively. ‘Portals can’t talk.’

The newcomer gave off a bad vibe, Juliet decided. He had a downtrodden aura about him and he came across petulant. The way he was sitting with an air of boredom gave the impression that he had little regard for others. His long face and gaunt cheeks created shadows on his face, painting him sinister, and the mini ashen afro he had for hair was not a common style: Its slight middle parting made it look like the pretentious hair of a male catwalk model.

‘Oh … excuse me for not knowing that portals can’t speak.’ Nick threw his hands up, startling Juliet out of observing James. She was shocked by Nick’s bitter sarcasm and began to worry about him. He’s been through so much today … He needs rest, his family, support, alone time … The list went on. But we need answers and a plan more. ‘I still have no idea what’s going on,’ said Nick.

Juliet asked suddenly, ‘So you know he can see the future?’ At her voice, Nick jolted; even though she was sitting next to him, it seemed he was so absorbed in getting answers that he’d forgotten she was there.

‘He’s an oracle; he can see the future, the past, the present. With practice he could use his power so quickly and easily that he could tell you what the people next door are doing right this second, or people on the other side of the world.’ James gave his moody eyes to Nick. ‘But I’m guessing, Nicolas, that you haven’t gained anywhere near that level of control yet.’

‘Erm … no.’

‘I didn’t think so.’ James’s mismatched eyes swivelled to find Juliet. ‘And Juliet, I know you’re soulless.’

‘That’s what the voice at the portal called me ...’ Juliet said, realising she’d parroted Nick.

James laughed again. ‘Portals can’t talk.’

‘I never said they could.’ Juliet bristled. What’s with his attitude? ‘Anyway, you said portals, plural. So there are more than just the one we came across?’

James appeared to stiffen up. He didn’t answer.

As a nudge, Juliet lifted her eyebrows expectantly. Still, he remained silent. ‘Fine. You’re obviously not going to answer. But if the portal wasn’t communicating with us, then who was?’

‘That’s why I’ve been keeping an eye on Nicolas.’

That makes no sense. ‘You’re saying you don’t know who was on the other side? How can you know what they called us if you didn’t know what they said?’ After saying it, she figured Tamara could have told him. The witch apparently had known who Nick was. Juliet felt the muscles in her face tighten.

‘We have an idea of who you spoke to through the portal, and our intel overheard a conversation with this … person.’ James peered over at Tamara, who nodded for some reason. ‘Our intel told us this person had spoken with a soulless woman named Juliet Maystone and an oracle called Nicolas. With portals, your thoughts can be directed through to the other side, so whoever is over there can hear you telepathically … in your head.’

‘We know what the word means,’ said Juliet impatiently.

‘Thoughts can be sent either way, and someone who is used to the process can direct their consciousness through to a select person, and even use the portal to hear general thoughts. That’s what appears to have happened to you two. The person on the other side picked up on your passing thoughts and found out about your abilities, found out what you both are. But it’s not an easy thing to do, because the person whose mind you’re trying to read can guard their thoughts by directing them away from the portal.’

‘That’s what I did,’ said Nick. The wonder in his voice was only an undertone in his delicate state. His theory about the portal had been correct. ‘How do you know we’re linked to Aldrich’s death?’

Before replying, James frowned and peered to the side. ‘The intel I spoke of …’ he began, his deep voice painfully monotonous, ‘… they are fickle. They traded with the person on the other side of the portal while they thought it most benefited them, but now things have changed. They are willing to trade info with us, too. They are weasels and will try to keep both sides sweet, which means they don’t tell us everything.’

‘Hardly weasels!’ interrupted Tamara with a short cackle. ‘You are funny, James.’

James’s mouth quirked a little. Apparently it was an inside joke they weren’t willing to share. With no energy to ask, Juliet showed she was waiting for answers by putting out one hand with the palm facing the ceiling.

‘So, our intel,’ James continued. ‘They told us the person you spoke to through the portal had been using Aldrich, and that he had based his portal on Aldrich’s land. By matching up the dates our intel gave us with the date Aldrich’s remains were found, we figured it couldn’t just be a coincidence that you two had visited the portal on his land.’

‘Aldrich killed my mother,’ Nick said quickly, as if justifying the murderer’s fate.

‘Okay …’ James dragged out the word in sarcasm. ‘Believe it or not, I’m not here to get either of you in trouble for Aldrich’s death. If the person we suspect was on the other side of the portal chose to use Aldrich, then Aldrich could not have been a good man.’

‘Who do you suspect this person is?’ asked Nick.

‘I can’t tell you.’

‘You can’t, or you won’t?’

‘Both.’

Nick started to sound a little unstable. ‘You know the portal exploded, right?’

‘Yes, that is something our intel shared. Apparently you angered the person on the other side so much that he destroyed his own portal in rage.’

Juliet remembered the explosion and wondered, fearfully, what kind of ‘person’ had the power to spontaneously explode something in anger.

‘What did you do to enrage this person, Nicolas?’ asked James.

‘I don’t know. I didn’t give them my full name, like I said, and also they wanted me to go through to the other side. I didn’t trust them, though, and then Juliet and I had to run off.’

James frowned and gazed about in thought. ‘So they tried to lure you through, but you didn’t fall for it? And then you ran off, which probably angered him …’

‘I suppose …’ Nick replied, sounding less than convinced. ‘Aldrich thought it was an ancient god called Moloch on the other side.’

James peered over at Tamara, who slowly closed her eyes, seeming to age twenty years with one facial expression. ‘You’re proving to be quite useful, Nicolas,’ said James in fake surprise. ‘What you’ve just told us corroborates that it is who we suspect. This person has posed as Moloch before.’ Then, as if he’d said too much, he snapped his mouth shut.

Juliet was half expecting Nick to mention the missing children, but he didn’t, and she didn’t want to be the one to share that news either. Those poor kids … and their families.

‘Whose intel are you talking about?’ asked Nick. ‘Yours and Tamara’s?’

‘Not Tamara’s. It’s intel that my kind use. We live in the Otherworld.’

His kind? Lives in the Otherworld? Juliet’s mind repeated, maybe running it past herself to confirm she’d heard correctly. Tamara’s living room looked very bland all of a sudden, as Juliet’s imagination went on a little journey, thinking of another world and its possible inhabitants, remembering her soul—My soul is in the Otherworld! He might know a way for me to get it back …

Throwing aside the fantasies, she scrutinised James, wondering what he was. She turned to Nick and found him squinting at the tall, curly-haired man.

‘Your kind?’ asked Nick.

Tamara began laughing. ‘I am so very glad I did not have to explain this all by myself.’ She shook her head slowly with a big smile. ‘Look at his ears, Nicolas, and tell me what you think he is.’

Juliet looked as well. Both of James’s ears were hidden by his curls when she first tried to peer at them. With a drawn-out sigh, the whatever-he-was swiped his hair aside to reveal one ... very ordinary-looking ear. Juliet frowned and tried to discern a difference. She supposed they were slightly pointed, if she was being really picky, but it was nothing drastic.

‘An elf?!’ said Nick in a doubt-laden voice.

‘Half-elf,’ James corrected. ‘My father’s human and lives in Northern Ireland. My mother is a pure-blooded elf who lives in the Otherworld.’

What is going on? Exasperated, Juliet turned and gazed at the nearest doorway, maybe expecting Santa Claus to walk in and take James back to the North Pole, or a TV crew to show up and tell her she’d been had. But of course, nobody arrived. Then she thought, Why shouldn’t I believe? I see spirits, and I know there’s a Spiritworld. Maybe James thinks I’m the alien in the room …

‘You’re an elf called James?’ said Nick.

‘Half-elf; there are big differences.’ His deep voice sounded sulky for a moment. ‘And it’s the human name my father gave me.’

Juliet heard and felt Nick blow a mass of air from his mouth. ‘And let me guess … your human dad’s got blue eyes and your elven mum has luminous orange eyes?’ He laughed hopelessly away to himself, in a way that made Juliet want to comfort him.

‘Yes,’ James answered plainly, which killed Nick’s laughter.

‘Oh.’

‘Are your ears supposed to be pointed?’ said Juliet, making it obvious she thought they weren’t. James turned more sullen than he already had been and glared at her. Confused, Juliet looked to Tamara. The witch, wide-eyed, shook her head stiffly with an expression that seemed to say, ‘That was the wrong thing to ask.’

‘Your ears are beautiful, James,’ said Tamara in a frank tone; she made it sound as if it was stupid for James to think otherwise. ‘And they look pointed to me.’

The half-elf’s gaunt face brightened a little. He rubbed one of his ears self-consciously. He’s like a big child, thought Juliet as she smiled at him apologetically.

It was getting cold inside, which was surprising considering four people cramped the tiny living room. Tamara must have noticed the low temperature, because she got up and said, ‘I’ll light the fire while you two ask the many questions I’m sure you have.’ In no hurry, she walked into the kitchen and out of sight. Thudding and clopping could be heard as she moved chunks of wood about.

‘So …’ Nick aimed his voice at James. ‘You call your own world the Otherworld?’ He sounded tired, ragged.

‘No. On that side we have another name for it, a name I’m not going to share with you. But around humans I call it the Otherworld. And there are reasons it was given that name.’ James seemed to have gotten over his ear insecurities. Now he stuck out his chin, lips pursed in between speech.

‘So how many people know of its existence?’

James’s curls bobbed about as he shook his head. ‘We are getting sidetracked here.’ He stopped and rubbed his forehead with his long fingers. ‘I’ve already told you more than I’m supposed to. I don’t know why …’ he muttered. ‘What we should do is discuss what happened today, how you were almost killed, and then I’ll tell you how we can move forward.’

‘You’re going to help us?’

‘I need to keep you alive.’

‘Because I’m an oracle?’

‘Yes.’

‘And why’s that important?’

‘Because the person I suspect was on the other side of the portal has an interest in you,’ he whined, and Nick fell quiet.

Tamara came back into the room and crouched by the hearth, stacking blocks of wood by the side of the fireplace. She tore apart and scrunched up a newspaper that had been next to her chair, and began to heap a little mountain of paper balls before piling thin slats of wood on top. Her body mostly blocked Juliet’s view, but the witch used something to light the fire. She rose, moved back, and then positioned a black metal guard around the small blaze.

As on previous visits, Juliet admired the stonework of the mantelpiece, watching the orange glow dance up the inside and grow fiercer. She wondered what houses were like in the Otherworld, assuming whatever beings were over there actually lived in houses. What do souls do on that side? Will mine still be there? Or has it moved on to another existence? Something didn’t click about that theory. It must be in the Otherworld, because I can still see spirits, see the ‘in-between.’

‘Was it Austin on the other side of the portal?’ Nick asked James.

‘Who’s Austin?’

When Juliet twisted in her seat, she saw Nick staring at the half-elf. ‘You’re supposed to be protecting me, but you don’t even know who’s made my life a living hell. Austin is the man who took Kerra, who murdered her. And today he tried to kill me.’

The half-elf flushed red. ‘I … I wasn’t yet certain your girlfriend was dead. I’m sorry to hear that.’ In the chair across, Tamara’s face became remorseful.

Nick went on, ‘Well, you obviously haven’t been keeping much of an eye on Juliet either.’

‘What do you mean?’

Juliet answered, ‘I was dating Austin.’ Saying his name made her heart sink but her blood boil. I opened up to him. I let him into my bed. The factory, the sight she’d walked in on; her stomach turned queasy. She wanted to scrub herself clean all over. ‘I’d been seeing him for a few weeks, before he attacked me.’

James pushed himself up a little in his chair. ‘Tamara’s contact with you was just a bonus, Juliet. We’ve known of occasional soulless people throughout history, and generally they’ve been pretty much useless to my kind. I suppose we should have kept a closer eye on you. But you weren’t that important.’

‘Not important?’ she bit back. Frustration squirmed under her skin.

James’s expression turned stubborn. ‘I’m supposed to watch over Nicolas. That’s all. But as you started attending appointments with Tamara, I thought it would be beneficial to keep myself updated on you. I haven’t been watching you in your personal life, okay? And Tamara has never mentioned you dating anyone. The latest update she gave was that you’ve learnt to shut out the spirits at will.’ Conversationally, he asked, ‘Is this true?’

She ignored his question and turned on Tamara. ‘Client confidentiality, is this?’ Her voice was strong and clear. Out of the corner of one eye, she saw Nick lean back as if giving her centre stage. ‘Apart from Nicolas, you were the only person I told about my ability, and you know how difficult it was for me to do that. Now I find out you shared my secret with someone else!’ She pointed from Tamara, who remained straight-faced, to James, who looked extremely uncomfortable. And sulky. ‘You lied to me. You told me there was no way to the Otherworld. And I trusted you. I came here today telling Nicolas that we could trust you.’

‘Don’t be such a stupid woman!’ The witch rose from her seat with a quick shift of demeanour. ‘If it were all about you, then I would have kept your secret, but it is not.’

Juliet rose too. To her sheer annoyance, Nick tried to grab her wrist to hold her back, but she threw his hand aside with more power than intended. ‘You’re calling me stupid for being ignorant of things you concealed from me?’ She was taller than the witch and stood as straight as possible. Standing up so aggressively had been a mistake, detracting from her point; she realised now she would have had more impact if she’d remained calm and sitting. But all this energy coursing through her … and all the lies she’d endured. ‘If there is so much going on, then why don’t you explain it to me already, rather than lie to my face every time I see you?’

‘Oh, get a hold of yourself, Juliet! I lied to you, yes, but who have you lied to? Who have you hidden the truth from? The whole of Lansin Island would like to know how Aldrich died, but I am sure you have reasons for concealing that.’

Kim. Gran. My staff. Mum. Dad. Everyone, every day. ‘That’s completely different,’ she tried on, but her voice faltered.

‘Pah!’ Tamara flicked a hand up in the air. ‘People are so quick to condemn others for lying, but when it’s their own lies’—the witch widened her eyes and shook her head in mock disbelief—‘Oh, there is always justification for their own lies.’

Juliet was stumped. She stood on the spot, tension tightening her body, and said nothing. But you … you deceived me … like my mum did. She knew the witch was right, though, one hundred percent right. But she couldn’t just give in. Finally, she said, ‘Then what’s your justification?’ and she managed a stolid tone.

James butted in. ‘Tamara is a true witch. Her kind have—’

‘Tamara can answer for herself,’ said Juliet. Her severe manner provided the perfect moment to perch herself back down next to Nick.

Tamara pushed her hands over her robe, smoothing it out proudly, and then sat back into her chair. Her face became serious. ‘True witches, like my ancestors, have held an alliance with the elves for centuries, and through guided meditation they gave their aid to the Otherworld in times of need. I am the only living descendant left from the Lansin Island Witches—the ones who had wielded true power, at least—since the burnings wiped out the majority. I can show you a tree of my lineage, and you will see the few true witches who survived the massacre. But I digress. To respond to your issue about why I lied, well, it’s because we are not in the habit of telling just anyone about the Otherworld. Many of my clients like to believe in the existence of such a place, but most do not truly believe, and some think of it as a nonphysical realm, only to be reached through meditation. Although this can be done, like my ancestors achieved, the Otherworld is, in fact, a physical realm like ours, and can be reached—’

‘Tamara,’ James stressed.

‘Oh, stop your fretting, James. They already know of its existence.’ She gave him a scolding look. ‘Juliet, when I first told you your soul was in the Otherworld, I never expected you would discover the realm actually existed. Early on this year, James approached me and informed me of the rumours on the other side: that there was word of an oracle. Because of my connection to the Otherworld, he was ordered to inform me in case my aid was needed. When he said a soulless woman had been present with the oracle, I realised it must have been you. I have never met another soulless person, so I very much doubted it was only coincidence. Fortunately for me, you had already sought my help. Apart from asking me to keep an eye on you and to report anything of importance, the only other task James asked of me was to locate Nicolas.’

‘How did you find me?’ asked Nick, aiming the question at James for some reason, instead of Tamara. ‘Austin used Juliet to find out where I work, and then my full name, but you must have already known who I was, because you were there at the hotel the night Kerra was taken. Why were you there?’

‘I was there to keep an eye on you.’

‘Why?’

‘To keep you safe.’

Nick didn’t need to say anything for Juliet to sense his exasperation.

‘For some stupid reason, you left the hotel unexpectedly,’ said the half-elf. ‘I hadn’t realised you had left, but after a while, I went upstairs to check on you. There was no one in the hallway, so I stood outside to listen through the door to your room. I heard a distant thud and some scuffling sounds, so I used my magic to unlock the door—’

‘Magic?’ Nick interrupted. Juliet didn’t even want to think about it.

‘Yes. My magic is limited on this side. I can manage small spells and illusions, but anything more demanding would be extremely difficult … and leave me in a terrible state.’

‘This is ridiculous.’ Nick turned to Juliet, but she stared fixedly ahead. Her little argument with Tamara had shaken her somewhat, and now she needed to be composed. Keep the conversation moving forward, and then we can make a plan.

Maybe talking to himself more than anyone else, Nick said, ‘I shouldn’t believe any of what you’re telling me, but—’

‘Let me continue what I was saying.’ James spoke impatiently. ‘When I entered the hotel room, there was only blood. The window was open, so I manoeuvred around the blood to peek outside. I was too late. All I heard was a vehicle starting up and the crunch of the gravel as it sped off. I exited the room and locked the door with magic before leaving the hotel. That’s when you saw me, Nicolas. I was trying to follow whoever had taken your girlfriend. I slowed down, hoping you wouldn’t notice me, then I tried to track the abductor. I had no luck, though.’ He shrugged. ‘Maybe if I hadn’t had to slow down when you arrived, I would have caught them.’

Nick’s leg twitched and nudged against Juliet’s, but surprisingly, he didn’t bite back. ‘You know I gave your description to the police?’ he said. ‘I wasn’t very good at describing you, but surely someone from the music hall at West Edge Country House must have seen you there, or recognised you?’

Appearing proud of himself, James explained, ‘Like I said, my magic is limited on this side, but one of the things I can manage is a subtle spell that allows me to phase into the background. Even as tall as I am, I can walk through a crowd of people without many paying me attention. Some people are more observant than others, but to most I’m practically invisible.’

‘Why did I spot you, then?’

‘Apparently you are more observant than others.’ James sounded resentful about it.

‘Okay.’ It was obvious the answer hadn’t satisfied Nicolas. ‘A few days later you were outside my house. Why?’

‘I was observing you. You have a history of depression, so I wanted to ensure you wouldn’t do anything stupid, like commit suicide in your grief. I’ve watched you more times than that, you just haven’t noticed.’

Juliet was in disbelief over how much Nick’s privacy had been invaded, and tried to extinguish her growing irritation. At least James hadn’t been stalking her.

I never knew Nicolas had a history of depression … She felt some sympathy, assuming it must have been hard for him, but she also became annoyed, thinking about people who used ostensible mental health issues as excuses for their failures. Some people didn’t even try to succeed because of the negative labels their doctors assigned to them, or, as Juliet suspected in many cases, the labels they assigned to themselves. However she viewed the topic, she’d already seen a stronger side to Nicolas today than she had expected. Hopefully he’ll keep himself together for the rest of this conversation.

‘How do you know about my depression?’ said Nick.

‘Because I’m more resourceful than you think.’ It was like James was trying to antagonise him. ‘I’ve been keeping a record on you. Just general info. I started it when Tamara first told me where I could find you.’

‘How did Tamara know where to find me?’ Turning to the witch herself, he asked, ‘Did Juliet tell you?’

‘No,’ Juliet objected. She twisted towards him sharply. ‘I did not.’

He stared at her searchingly, then gave a regretful smile. ‘Okay … sorry.’

Tamara said, ‘As Juliet has made clear, she did not tell me where to find you.’ The witch leaned over in her chair, reaching for a block of wood and throwing it over the fireguard and into the flames. It wasn’t the most graceful thing, splashing ash and embers into the air, but Tamara hummed a laugh at her own lazy attempt to keep the fire going. ‘You two have thrown a lot of mistrust and accusations at me, but you both seem to be forgetting something: I’m a witch. Many people on the island know me better as a medium, some as a clairvoyant, some as a healer, and many more as a kook.’ She laughed again. ‘But, ignoring the last title, how do you suppose I discovered where to find you?’

Juliet frowned and attempted to figure it out, before looking at Nick. His lips curved down. He shrugged. Then the obvious came to Juliet. ‘Samantha Crystan?’

Nick’s face lit up. ‘My mum told you?’

‘Not exactly told …’ Tamara bobbed her head side to side, as if weighing up what to tell them. ‘My powers aren’t like Juliet’s. Because of her displacement, she often sees and hears spirits clearly. But I must employ various methods, and sometimes I am successful, sometimes not. Even when I am, I rarely receive clear messages. When it comes to communing with the dead, I quite envy Juliet’s ability. Having her talent would make some of my appointments go a whole lot easier.’ The fire crackled behind her, startling the medium. Gently, she laughed again. ‘To find out more about you, Nicolas, I set up an energy circle here in this room, the way many Wiccans perform rituals, except my circle was a connection between this world and the Spiritworld. I focused on the little I knew about you: your first name and that you are an oracle. While keeping these in mind, I invited any spirits related to you into the circle—dead friends, dead relatives, and so on—as long as they bid you well. As you’ve guessed, your mother made contact. She did not appear to me the way Juliet sees the dead; instead I had to channel her. Using my body, she wrote this message …’ Tamara leaned over the arm of her chair and pulled open a drawer on a small square table. She took out a white piece of paper, stood, and then walked over to Nick.

Nick held the paper so Juliet could also see. On it was scribbled Samantha Crystan Nicolas’s mother 16 Maw Street Amiton keep him safe. The writing was so messy it was hard to read. Nick must have made sense of it, though, because Juliet saw his hand tighten on the sheet at about the same time she finished deciphering the message.

A moment of silence, and then Nick said in a soft voice, ‘Can I keep this?’

With a compassionate smile, Tamara nodded. She moved back to her seat.

Juliet watched Nick fold the paper delicately, as though trying to avoid creasing the words. When he was done, he pushed the note into his pocket. He kept his gaze lowered for a while.

‘So, you see, Nicolas,’ said Tamara, ‘your mother, in whatever knowledge she has access to in the Spiritworld, trusted me with your details.’

Why didn’t she come to me? thought Juliet, but instantly realised the many reasons why: I wanted nothing to do with Nicolas, I was actively trying to block out the spirits, I didn’t know half of what I’ve just learnt about the Otherworld, and how would I protect Nicolas?

‘Tamara,’ Juliet began, ‘Samantha appeared to me today. She’s who sent me to Nicolas, allowing me to … save him. But before she vanished she said something had been pursuing her in the Spiritworld, that I’d put her in danger by summoning her, and that she wanted to come to me before but couldn’t because of whatever was after her …’ Juliet hung the last part of the sentence out like it was a question.

‘That doesn’t sound good at all,’ said the witch. ‘But we can’t address this matter now. It will have to be another time.’

Nick’s head bobbed up, as if to object, but then he nodded.

Tamara continued, ‘It does explain, however, why Samantha hadn’t warned Juliet or myself about the apparent dangers Nicolas has been facing. About this man … Austin?’

‘Anyway,’ James interrupted in a rude tone, ‘Nicolas is alive.’ To Nick and Juliet he said, ‘There’s a lot we need to discuss still.’

But Nick asked suddenly, ‘Does it really matter that much if I die?’

James rolled his eyes. ‘To me, on a personal level, no, it doesn’t. But I’ve been tasked with keeping you alive. If you’re of interest to the person I suspect was on the other side of the portal, then you’re important to my kind.’

‘But not you personally?’

James looked at him as if his question was irrelevant. ‘Not all of my kind have the same theory on your significance.’

‘Oh. Great. Someone who isn’t bothered if I die has been tasked with keeping me alive. No wonder you’ve been doing such a fantastic job.’

James shrugged. ‘Actually, I think if you died I would be in deep shit with the majority of my kind, and when it comes to my kind, I am bothered what they think of me.’

‘So you do care if I die?’

‘If you want to look at it that way, yes.’

‘Why am I important to your kind? I don’t even live in the Otherworld.’

‘Because … we haven’t known of a true oracle for a long time now. In the past, your kind helped mine more than you can imagine.’ James twiddled his curly hair in a stiff manner. ‘Do you have to ask so many questions?’

‘How did the oracles help?’

‘I can’t tell you.’

Then Nick raised his voice. ‘For Christ’s sake!’ Juliet could feel the anger rolling off him.

‘You are lucky I’ve told you as much as I have,’ James said condescendingly. ‘If I get more clearance, then I’ll tell you more.’

Out of impulse, Juliet put a hand on Nick’s knee to help calm him down. He twitched at first, probably not expecting the contact, but then took a long breath before saying anything. ‘Fine. But I’m wondering, where were you at the maypole dance, when I could have been killed by a firework or exploding car?’

That’s why Austin was at the maypole dance! realised Juliet. Because Nicolas was there.

James answered, ‘I assumed you would be safe, seeing as you were in a large crowd of people. And I do have my own life, by the way. I work from home. I considered that day a safe day to do my own work, as opposed to baby sitting you.’

‘So you live on Lansin Island?’

‘I do now. On Maw Street. Across the road from you.’

Nick hung his head into the palm of his hand, and Juliet gave his knee one gentle squeeze of reassurance before letting go of it. Nick said to James, ‘That’s taking stalking to a whole new level.’

‘I didn’t want to live on your stupid street,’ James said childishly, which sounded strange in his deep voice. ‘I didn’t even want to live on this island. But when I found out where you live, I reported back to my kind and was told to position myself as close to you as possible. Lucky me.’

‘So you picked a house on my street?’

‘Yes; that would be as close as possible, wouldn’t it?’ he said, making his voice ugly. ‘One was for sale at the time, and I’m not having to pay for it, so I thought, whatever.’

‘What house number do you live at?’

‘Forty-eight.’

Nick huffed. ‘I hope you keep that house in shape. You live a few doors down from Aimee Price. That woman once came all the way down the road to my house to complain about the state of my front garden.’

‘She visited me when I first moved in.’ Then, in a smug tone, James said, ‘She brought me a welcome present, and I thought she was lovely. She must like me more than you.’

‘James,’ Tamara cut in, ‘you two can have this popularity contest another time. There are more urgent matters at hand.’

The half-elf’s face grew tense. Nick said to him, ‘You realise Austin broke into my house yesterday when I was at the station …?’

James looked embarrassed for the millionth time, and Juliet wondered why the biggest idiot in all the world(s) had been sent to protect Nicolas. ‘You were at the station, surrounded by police,’ James said weakly. ‘So I knew you were safe. Why would I think to guard your unoccupied home?’

‘Maybe because it’s full of personal information that can be used against me. I’m guessing you’ve been hacking my wireless too, which is why you knew about my weekend away. That’s why you were at the hotel before I was?’

‘Yes. You should really get a password.’

‘I know; Austin already alerted me to that mistake.’ Nick’s right fist was clenched so hard, Juliet saw his knuckles turn white, the light of the fire dancing on their tight and shiny skin. ‘What about today?’

‘Again, you were supposed to be surrounded by people. I assumed you were at work. But, no. I swear you go off asking for trouble.’

‘Oh, yeah …’ Nick pushed forward in the chair. ‘Because I really asked for my girlfriend’s throat to be torn out, and for her body to be reanimated by a necrophiliac necromancer!’ After yelling the last two words, he clamped his eyes shut and took deep breaths.

The half-elf laughed.

Nick shot to his feet and went for James as if to throttle him, but before he could get near, Tamara whipped a short brown stick out of her robe pocket and pointed it at him. ‘You will not fight in my house!’ she yelled, still sitting down. ‘Not unless you want to see the type of magic I can summon.’

Nick froze in his step, his arms out aggressively. Sulky-faced James hadn’t even moved from his chair. The atmosphere was awkward and fraught with uncertainty for a time, but Nick broke the silence by asking the witch, ‘You do your magic with a wand?’

Tamara hooted a single laugh. ‘Some of it, yes. Now please sit down, Nicolas.’

He did as told.

To Juliet’s surprise, the sullen half-elf said, ‘Sorry … I wasn’t expecting that description: necrophiliac necromancer. Why did you call him that?’

And so Nick told them everything that had happened today. Many blocks of wood turned to ash as he spoke, but eventually the story was all told. When he explained what Austin did to Kerra’s corpse, Tamara covered her mouth and turned a little green. The half-elf’s expression quickly turned contrite. At the mention of the enchanted item used to keep Kerra’s body from decomposing, the half-elf stopped Nick to explain that it was a common item used in the Otherworld to preserve a body between death and the burial ceremony.

‘So Austin must have some contact with the Otherworld?’ asked Nick.

James nodded stiffly. ‘Yes, pointing towards the person we suspect again.’ He looked over at Tamara who gave a firm nod. ‘Okay. So it’s clear we need to stop Austin from harming either of you, and it would also be helpful for my kind to interrogate him.’

Juliet wasn’t sure she liked the sound of that, but she said nothing. After all, she wanted answers herself.

‘Now, Nicolas,’ Tamara said in a stern voice, ‘it’s time to tell me what you know of my ancestors’ past.’

Apparently confused, James looked from person to person. He hadn’t been present when Nick tried to bribe the witch.

‘For it to make sense, Juliet and I need to tell you everything that happened on Aldrich’s land,’ warned Nick.

It took even longer than the last story had, so long that the sky began to darken outside, and Tamara had to switch on a light. The fire went out completely, but the room stayed warm. Nick and Juliet covered everything, making sure to mention everyone who had been involved. Finally, Nick detailed the letter Ryan had sent.

Tamara’s reaction was unnerving. At first her skin seemed to drain, becoming whiter than white, but as she sat there in silence, it began to turn red in rage. ‘So he was behind it,’ she directed at James as if no one else was present. ‘All this time, all along …
He was the one who had them burnt.’

‘You’re talking about the person you think was on the other side of the portal?’ asked Nick. ‘It’s a he?’

‘Tamara.’ James raised his eyebrows at the witch. ‘We’ve already said too much.’

Tamara glared back at him, but just shook her head. Her eyes glistened, on the verge of spilling tears. She got up, expelling a shaky breath, and headed towards the kitchen. Juliet got up to comfort her, but Tamara said, ‘No, Juliet. Just let me have a moment.’

The two men and Juliet were silent while they waited for Tamara’s return. When she did come back, it was as if she’d never cried at all. She had on a brave mask when she sat back down.

‘I don’t understand …’ said Nick. ‘You’re a medium. Wouldn’t your ancestors’ ghosts have communicated with you and told you what really happened?’ Juliet had been thinking the same thing. Some spirits seemed to know stuff in the afterlife that they hadn’t before.

‘They were burnt to death. It’s the most horrific way to go.’ Tamara’s voice reflected how much she believed that statement. ‘Not just because of the pain, but because the spirit is destroyed in the process. There is no afterlife for the victims of fire. They never see the Spiritworld, and they never move on to whatever comes next. Fire completely devours. You may think it leaves remains, but truly, fire takes everything with it when it leaves this world.’ She paused, seemingly in reflection, before continuing, ‘From what you have told me, the witches would not have known the truth anyway. If Aldrich had tainted their leaders’ minds, then it would have only appeared to be their hate and fear-mongering to them. Nothing more.’

‘Okay. But couldn’t you have seen this in a crystal ball or something? You call yourself a clairvoyant. Can’t you see the past and future?’

‘Glimpses, sometimes,’ she said idly. ‘But I am no oracle. Divination is the hardest of magical arts. There are many people with some talent in the art. I do not deny that. But oracles …’ She paused, then said with wonder, ‘Oh, the things your kind did in the past.’

‘Tam—’

‘I know, James. I’m saying too much. But anyway, Nicolas, as you yourself have described, visions are not always accurate, either.’

‘Okay,’ said Nick. ‘So where do we go from here?’

James provided the answer. ‘Go back home to your lives and wait for Tamara or me to contact you. I need to speak to my kind about all of this, and they will make a decision on what I can tell you and how we should proceed.’

That’s not the plan I was expecting, thought Juliet. She had hoped for … Actually, she wasn’t sure what she had hoped for. Maybe that they would track down Austin, find out the entire truth, ensure no one else would be harmed by him, and … find out if he actually cared about me at all. Quickly, she scolded herself. Don’t be so pathetic. But truthfully, she wanted to know. Of course he was repulsive to her now, but she still had to discover the extent of his deceit. Am I really so easy to fool?

‘Right,’ said Nick unpleasantly to the half-elf, sparking Juliet out of her thoughts. ‘So let me get everything straight before my head explodes. You have an idea of who the person on the other side of the portal is. It’s a he, as Tamara let slip, but it’s not Austin, although you think Austin might have been sent by this person. This person is interested in me because I’m an oracle. He also figured out I could see the future, because he used the portal’s magical telepathic communication system to read it from me. He tried to lure me through to the other side, but when I refused and Juliet and I ran off, he threw a hissy fit and blew up his own portal. Also, he must have spoken about me and Juliet with someone, possibly Austin, because your intel overheard and informed you of us living on Lansin Island. Your kind decided I was important too, so they sent you to find and protect me. With the help of Tamara and my dead mum, you managed to find me before Austin did, although it hardly helped, considering what I’ve been through. Tamara was roped into all of this and told to keep an eye on Juliet. You didn’t know about Austin tracking me down, you were just generally watching me when I saw you at the hotel. I evidently managed to do better detective work than you, seeing as I located Austin and Kerra before you even figured out who had taken my girlfriend. The enchanted item Austin used to preserve Kerra’s body is something you use in the Otherworld, suggesting Austin obtained it from there, and further supporting the theory that Austin is working for the person you think was behind the portal. And now that we’ve informed you on everything, you want us to wait about and do nothing until you’ve spoken with your kind for further guidance.’

‘Pretty much.’

‘Okay,’ said Nick, sounding as if he was about to throw himself off a cliff. ‘Adding it all up, and also basing this on the looks you and Tamara have been trading, I’m assuming the person on the other side of the portal is an enemy of yours, and that the help you mentioned oracles giving in the past was something that pissed him off. Also, for some reason, he can’t just come through to this side, else surely he would have done that instead of trying to lure me through.’

James’s jaw noticeably tensed. After slowly drawing it open, he said, ‘You would be correct.’

‘Great! Well, someone wants me dead. Putting that aside, I can’t just sit around while Austin is still out there somewhere, making Kerra suffer.’

‘Nicolas.’ James tilted his head impatiently. ‘If you try anything now, Austin will just succeed in killing you, and that’ll get me in trouble.’

‘I need to set her spirit free. And on top of that, her body needs to be found. However this is resolved, I am not letting her family go on without knowing her fate.’

James’s face pulled in like he was thinking hard. He winced, and Juliet got the impression he was about to say, ‘Sorry, there’s nothing I can do,’ but Nicolas went on speaking. ‘You’re an elf, aren’t you, or half-elf? Sorry. I don’t really care about the differences right now. But you’ve got magic. Can’t you just cast an illusion or something? Make it look like an accident took Kerra … or …’ Juliet heard the bitterness in his voice, and the regret. He shouldn’t have to be thinking of these things. ‘Or make it so Austin can’t tell the police about me and Juliet. If you’ve got magic, then can’t any of your people do what Aldrich could … wipe Austin’s mind? Then maybe somehow you can get him arrested for her murder? I … I don’t know. It’s just, the police won’t let this drop … They already know my mum was never found. I don’t want another unresolved case hanging over my life.’

‘Okay, Nicolas,’ said James. ‘I’ll try to think of something. But for now, just do as I say. Go home, try to surround yourself with people as much as possible, to keep you safe, and just wait. Also, you can’t under any circumstances tell anyone about any of this. You both already know more than it’s safe for you to know. When it comes to humans, my kind are extremely secretive … and willing to guard their secrets. You must remember this.’

For a reason unknown to Juliet, Nick agreed. ‘Fine.’

So that was that. They would go home and do nothing.

Juliet supposed the plan was sensible; at least they were less likely to run headlong into danger this way. They’d be prepared. But for all she knew, Austin could have dropped an anonymous tip to the police by now, linking her to Aldrich’s death. Or maybe, because she had thwarted his plan, he would be waiting for her at home, his double-bladed knife at the ready.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

DRIVING TOWARDS CHANTON, Nick wondered what Juliet made of all these revelations. Elves, witches, oracles, a necromancer, and a mysterious person (with anger management issues) set on killing him.

Having transitioned from numb to angry, he had somehow ended up feeling volatile. He realised he’d become hostile at Tamara’s house towards the end of the conversation, saying whatever sharp words came to him. In a contradictory way, these little outbursts helped him bottle the deeper emotions.

‘Do you want to talk?’ said Juliet, as they drove through darkness.

No. What I want is Kerra to be sitting where you are. Six months ago, he would have been happy to have Juliet by his side, but now … ‘No. Don’t worry. There’s just so much to think about.’

‘Sure,’ she said. She had a way of saying the word genuinely, rather than in the common sarcastic manner.

When they got to Chanton, Juliet directed Nick to her home. He parked out the front and saw her house for the first time. The street she lived on was very upper class. It looked kind of suburban: a wide road, large abodes spaced apart, beautiful front gardens. Not a thing out of place. Juliet’s house itself was more grand than any belonging to the people Nick knew.

Juliet sat silently and seemed reluctant to get out. After a while she said, ‘Are we really going to wait and do nothing until those two get back to us?’

‘I don’t want to,’ he replied without hesitation. ‘But as we have no idea where Austin is staying, I don’t know what else we can do. Anyway, if we did know where he was, what would you do? Would you even come with me after everything that happened before?’

‘I …’

Nick shrugged, assuming her answer would be a regretful no.

But she said, ‘Yes, I would. I told you I’ll help Kerra if I can find a way. When I sensed her suffering …’ Her voice became quiet and airy. ‘… it was awful.’

Emotion stirred in Nick while he remembered the vulnerable look in Kerra’s eyes, the haunting silent plea. No, not now. Keep it together. ‘Maybe if we find out more about Austin, we can try and track him down ourselves.’

Juliet nodded. The car’s dome light was on above them and reflected off her long blonde hair. ‘We should swap numbers.’

And so they did, like they had once done before. It felt wrong to Nick, even though he knew it was only for practical reasons, but he took the digits anyway. He could hardly bear to see Juliet’s face, the gorgeous face that had popped into his mind when Kerra told him she loved him, the face that had made him hesitate, miss his chance, and had ruined the moment. If it wasn’t for that face, then he would have entered that room with his girlfriend. Maybe she’d even be alive right now.

More likely we’d both be dead.

‘Do you want me to see you inside?’ he asked, thinking of Kerra entering that room alone. He felt a sudden protectiveness over Juliet, mixed with blame and resentment.

She glanced up the dark front garden. ‘Just to the door, please. I’ll have a quick look around before you leave, if you’re okay with that?’

‘Yeah. Oh, the scarf …’ He leaned over, extracted it from the glove compartment, and handed it to Juliet. Understandably, she didn’t appear too happy to touch the object.

‘I’ll burn it tonight.’

Nick walked her to the door and waited at the porch while she let herself in. He wished she would have invited him inside, in case Austin was there waiting in the shadows. Maybe I should have insisted on searching her home. Whatever he attempted to do now would probably turn out awkward, so he just waited and tried to stay alert. Juliet returned shortly and gave the all-clear.

‘Okay.’ Nick smiled at her wearily. ‘I suppose I’ll see you soon.’

‘Yes.’ Folding her arms, she gave a single nod. ‘The el—’ She stumbled on the word. ‘Half-elf? James …? I’m just going to call him James. He said you should keep yourself surrounded by people. Will you be alright?’

‘Tom is living at mine for now, and I can call my best friend.’ Although these weren’t direct lies, he was pretty sure Tom was staying at Michael’s for a few more nights. There was no way Nick was going to surround himself with people who could get hurt. ‘What about you?’

‘I’ll be fine. I have my personal alarm, and I’ll lock everything up. Anyway, he tried to kill me before. I can defend myself.’

Her confidence took Nick by surprise, and then he realised something: She didn’t look at all tired from the day’s events. Immortal …

‘Call or text me if there’s anything,’ said Juliet.

‘Yeah. You do the same.’ Nick was exhausted. He turned and walked back to his car; Juliet’s front door clicked shut behind him.

The drive home was treacherous. Nick’s eyes strained to keep open. He knew it was selfish to be behind the wheel in his state of mind, but he had to get home somehow. At least the roads were mostly clear at this time.

As he neared Maw Street, fear began to grow in him. If all Austin wanted to do now was kill him, then wouldn’t he be waiting here, knowing Nick had to return at some point?

The tall sycamores were black giants in the night, huddled around the bungalow like sentries, but as Nick drove into their company and parked his car at their feet, he imagined what could lurk in their shadows. He remained in the car with the doors locked at first, waiting, relying on his ears to alert him of danger.

Eventually he got out.

He was quick to let himself inside his home. Like he’d suspected, Tom was still away. The bungalow was so small, it took no time to check every room. He was alone. As soon as he figured he was hopefully safe, exhaustion fell back upon him.

Even in his fatigue, he ensured everything was closed and locked. He considered propping a chair against the doors to help withstand a break-in. But doing that would make it harder for Nick to escape if Austin found another way inside.

A break-in. He remembered Austin had already gotten in somehow, and had stolen his diary. My Diary of Depression, toyed his tired and shocked mind. Going back over everything, he searched for signs of forced entry. He found no damage to the doors or windows, and he was certain nothing had been unlocked.

It left just one frightening possibility: Austin had a key.

But how? There were only two keys to the house. Nick’s, which he had on his set and kept with him at all times. Stupidly, he checked for it now, even though he’d just let himself in with it. And then there was Tom’s. But Tom had been at Michael’s house for a few days.

With a glance up at the kitchen clock, he decided it wasn’t too late to call his brother. ‘Hi, Tom.’

‘Nick? Are you alright?’

Well, that’s a question, isn’t it? ‘Yeah … Nothing to worry about,’ he forced out, flagging. ‘I’m just calling because I think someone has rummaged through my room. Some things were not how I left them, but nobody seems to have broken in or anything. And nothing’s been taken.’ Except my diary.

‘Oh, right,’ said Tom, sounding incapable of adding to the conversation. He talked really low for some reason.

‘I’m not saying you have been through my room or anything. It’s just, if someone has been in the house, they must have used a key. Have you got yours on you?’

‘I should have. Let me have a look quickly.’ The phone was quiet for a while except for shuffling and scuffling. ‘Oh,’ his voice returned, ‘that’s weird. It’s not with my other keys.’

‘Do you know where it is?’

‘I didn’t even notice it was missing. I haven’t had to use it for a few days.’

Nick inhaled tensely through his nose, held the breath tight in his chest, and then pushed it out. ‘Do you remember where you last saw it, or when you last used it?’

‘Erm … The first place I went after leaving your house was Dad’s, before going to Michael’s. That was when I went to see if Tommy would to talk to me.’

‘You wouldn’t have left it there, would you?’

‘Sorry, Nick. I’m trying to talk quietly because Michael’s parents are asleep.’ He wasn’t far from whispering. ‘You know what I’m like; I empty my pockets when I’m about a house.’ That’s true, thought Nick. Tom’s usual routine when coming home would be to walk to the kitchen, take out his keys and phone and wallet, and dump them on the side. Nick was the same, especially when wearing skinnies. ‘I would have put my keys on that little table Dad has near the front door.’

‘So do you think it fell off and you left it there?’

‘Maybe. But I doubt it fell off. It would have been on a keychain loop thingymabob, whatever you call it. I’m looking at the empty loop now.’

Nick didn’t want his brother becoming suspicious. ‘Maybe it wore down and fell off.’

‘You didn’t have the key made for me that long ago.’

‘Maybe when it was still in your pocket it moved about and started to come off the hoop …’ A spell of dizziness threatened to drop Nick to the kitchen floor. ‘Anyway, it doesn’t matter how it fell off. If you think it’s at Dad’s, then I’ll go over and see if he or Tommy have seen it. I need to talk to Tommy anyway.’

‘Okay. But, Nick?’

‘Yeah.’

‘I’m worried now. Why would someone go through your room? Should we get the locks changed?’

If Nick hadn’t been so exhausted, he would have tried to find a way to ask Tom about the key without causing concern. He had to come up with an excuse. ‘I wouldn’t worry. I’m not sure anyone’s even been in the house. I think I probably just left things differently from how I usually do. I’ve not been thinking properly, you know, because of ...’ He let Tom figure out the rest, feeling guilty for using Kerra’s abduction as an excuse. Dead, trapped in her body, dead, tormented, dead. He considered punching himself to make the thoughts stop.

‘Michael and I can come over if you want to have people about the house,’ offered Tom, but his tone suggested it would be an inconvenience.

‘No, no, no, don’t worry. I might call Fin and see what he’s doing.’

‘Okay. So are you going to Dad’s tomorrow then, to look for my key?’

‘Yeah.’ Then he remembered he had work. He compressed his lips and closed his eyes before relaxing them and saying, ‘I’ll go after work.’

‘I can go myself if you want.’ Again, Tom made it sound like a hassle.

‘No. I’ll go. I want stuff to do anyway, while I wait for the police to get back to me.’ As soon as he’d said it, he thought, I don’t want this. I don’t want to keep lying to everyone. Different lies for different people. It won’t be long before I trip myself up.

‘Thank you, Nick. I would go, but Michael and I have planned a day out tomorrow and a meal in the evening.’

Struggling to muster the energy, Nick asked, ‘Anywhere nice?’

‘Just going up to the hills for a walk, and then to Chanton for a quick nose around the shops; they’ve got some cool little shops in that town. Then we might go to Eradon Lake as well. Maybe not in that order, but those are our destinations. We haven’t decided on our meal yet. I like simple pleasures, and just fancy going down to the docks for fish and chips. I need to persuade Michael, though.’ He laughed, probably too loudly. ‘Nick? You wouldn’t think Michael was a snob about food, would you? Well, he is.’

Nick heard his colleague’s dopey rumble in the background. Surely Michael’s voice will wake his parents.

Tom said, ‘He reckons it’s to keep fit.’ He laughed again. ‘And he says hi, by the way.’

‘Hi, Michael,’ said Nick, desperate to get off the phone. He listened to his brother parrot him for Michael’s sake. ‘Anyway, I’ve got to get some sleep now.’

‘Okay. Sorry about the key. Thanks in advance for going to Dad’s tomorrow.’

After the phone call, Nick made toast (surprisingly, he didn’t fall asleep and set the house on fire) and forced it down to get something in his stomach. How am I supposed to sleep tonight, knowing Austin can let himself in anytime? Asking the question summoned the answer. He had a lock on his bedroom door, which he’d installed for his and Kerra’s privacy, since Tom had moved in. Kerra …

He managed to shower and brush his teeth before making his way to bed. He put the note Tamara had given him, the scribbles the witch had channelled for his mother’s spirit, in the drawer that had held his diary. Hopefully no one would steal it.

As he lay awake, his mind played cruel games with him, singing, dead-dead-dead-diddily-dead-dead-dead!, and making bitter and semi-amusing comments like, Oh, elves actually exist? Sorry, James! I didn’t realise I was in The Lord of the Rings!

Nick understood what his brain was doing; he was so knackered, he couldn’t possibly face his emotions, and so his mind was trying to bottle them up by making light of everything. But it wasn’t funny. The wry thoughts tormented him, right up until he thought of Kerra’s family …

She had been a middle child, in between three older sisters, Rose, Melanie, and Jenifer, and three younger brothers, Connor, Jack, and George. When Kerra’s father, David, had come into Creaky Crystals and accosted Nick, Connor was the one who accompanied him. The only other immediate family was Kerra’s mother, Karen. For ages, all Nick could think about were their reactions to discovering Kerra was dead. He kept seeing himself at their dinner table, which had always been a loud and lively affair, and he imagined how different it would be without Kerra. Although each member of her family always seemed busy in their own lives, when they were all together there was a great dynamic. It wouldn’t be the same again.

Nick wasn’t sure what painful thought he had fallen asleep to, but somehow he woke up alive the next day. The door hadn’t been bashed down, and his throat was intact. He was unexpectedly alert, knowing instantly what he had to do. The top thing on his list was to make sense of everything. How could he move forward if he didn’t understand the position he was in?

Kerra was dead, and there was nothing he could do about that. She wasn’t gone, though, and there was something he could do about that. Even this morning, he could not cry for her. Maybe because he knew her spirit remained trapped. But also because overcoming depression had given him a backbone, an assurance that he would never fall into that condition again. Grief was different from depression, of course, but to some extent Nick had grieved already. Considering the limbo state of things, he decided it would just be indulgent wallowing to sit about and weep for her now.

He had a goal: to find Austin.

When James had told him the night before to do nothing but wait, Nick almost continued protesting. But then he realised if he agreed with the plan, the half-elf would be off seeking guidance from his kind … meaning he wouldn’t be watching over Nick. Meaning I can track down Austin.

Unfortunately it was Friday, which equalled work. He considered calling Mora and asking for the day off, sure she would understand and say yes, but he thought it indecent to cash in on his manager’s generosity. He couldn’t keep using Kerra’s misfortune to his benefit.

When he made it to Creaky Crystals, he discovered Mora couldn’t have granted him the shift off anyway. Janet was off and so was Michael, of course, leaving only Mora, Lucy, and him. A team of three wasn’t terrible, but not ideal either, as Fridays were generally busy. Nick dealt with a steady flow of customers, passing the day along nicely.

In his untalkative mood, he most likely came across miserable or rude. He didn’t care. Everything seemed trivial today, like a customer complaining about a bit of dust on a shelf. Really?! You felt so affronted by DUST that you had to walk up to the counter and put in a complaint? Do you have nothing better to do?! The woman’s complaint was valid; the shelf was dirty. But it must have been the one area in the entire store they’d forgotten to clean that morning.

In the afternoon there was a quiet period when Nick had the chance to dawdle about. He got around to the abhorrently filthy shelf and wondered how the poor, poor woman had even survived her encounter with the layer of devil dust. To clean it, he had to move the statues first. Figurines of fairies and dragons. I wonder if you live in the Otherworld too. While he performed the task, he thought about James. Maybe in Elf Land that bloody half-elf flies on a pink dragon and sneezes fairies out of his nostrils. Nick huffed to himself, garnering concerned glances from Mora, Lucy, and a few customers.

He shook his head, and having vanquished the dust, he began to place the statues back on the shelf. There was anger pulsing in his body. He half blamed James for Kerra’s death, hearing his stupid laugh from the night before. Necrophiliac necromancer. Hilarious. Nick’s jaw locked up tense. It took a moment for the ache to subside.

Discounting murderers, he wasn’t sure he’d ever met a more unlikable person than James. The half-elf had been so morose and inconsiderate. On top of that, he was useless. Is he even able to protect me?

But alongside Nick’s frustration was excitement. Dulled, but still there. Just the idea that elves actually existed and lived in a realm most humans didn’t know existed … It was unbelievable. When he was younger, he had dreamed of other worlds and magical powers and mythical beings, and now it seemed he was living those dreams. Although it was far less glamorous than he’d fantasised.

Heading over to the counter to serve a customer, he remembered how James had vanished on the night he chased him down the street. Was that magic? He’d forgotten to ask at Tamara’s.

The man at the till point purchased a singing bowl, and Nick found himself staring at the guy’s ears. James’s had been very slightly pointed. This man’s appeared normal. Nick glanced at his eyes; both were the same colour.

‘Have you got a staring problem, mate?’ the customer said aggressively.

Nick was startled, but replied, ‘I’ve got bigger problems than that. Enjoy your over-priced bowl.’ He handed the customer his change and bag.

‘Nicolas,’ Mora said, hurrying over, ‘would you like to take a short break?’ Apparently it was an order, not a question. Nick shuffled to the back of the store and heard his manager apologise to the man and thank him for shopping at Creaky Crystals. Lucy peered across at Nick and gave him a friendly ‘you’re-in-trouble’ smile.

In a small room the staff used for breaks and storing personal belongings, he sat down on a basic sofa and waited for his manager. Fifteen minutes passed without her arriving. Eventually he got up and returned to the shop floor, figuring she hadn’t come back because it was busy again. When he got back he said, ‘Sorry, Mora.’

She was serving at the till, but smiled to him softly. ‘It’s okay.’

The rest of the shift went smoothly. Austin didn’t come into the store to cut off his head, and he spent most of his time imagining what the Otherworld was like. On a few occasions, he cocked his head at Lucy and considered if she was of a different species. Something weird and wonderful, he was sure. Maybe she even featured herself in the epic fantasy she was writing. Wouldn’t be surprised. He also took a moment to ask Mora about her stomach cramps, and discovered they had passed; it was a relief to realise not all of his interventions had dire consequences.

On his way out of Creaky Crystals, he was glad he no longer had to pass the time. Already he’d mentally transformed Lucy and Mora (and some unfortunate customers) into as many folklore creatures he could think of. Now, though, it was time to find out how Tom’s key had ended up in Austin’s possession.

Nick arrived at his dad’s house, knocked, and waited for an answer.

‘Hello, Son,’ his dad greeted him and stepped forwards for a hug. He was still in the smart clothes he wore for work. For years he’d held a high-income IT position for Lansin Island Council. Apparently the job didn’t require great people skills, as John had managed to keep it even when he’d grown introverted after Samantha’s disappearance.

‘Hi.’ Nick made his way inside, and heard his dad close the door behind him.

‘I had a quick look for that key you texted me about, Nicolas, but haven’t seen it anywhere.’

As Nick walked to the kitchen, he glanced at table tops and shelves, but of course he knew he wouldn’t find it. ‘That’s okay. Do you know where it might be? If anyone would have taken it?’

When his dad caught up with him, he gave a confused look. ‘No one’s been over here, really. Why would anyone take it? Is everything okay?’

‘Everything’s fine. Tom’s just lost it, that’s all.’

John hmmmed. ‘Okay. Have you had any more news on Kerra?’

‘Nothing substantial.’ He told his dad about the latest updates from Detective Talwar, and then the two of them discussed the distasteful media coverage of the event, the way it had been hyped up, and the island’s interest in the mystery. Is it any more distasteful than me standing here lying to my own dad?

‘You’ll find her, Nicolas,’ said John, after his rant was done. ‘You told me you would, and I believe you. I’m sorry I didn’t at first.’

Nick’s eyes began to burn under threat of tears. Why did he have to say that? Dry-mouthed, he steered the conversation to something more bearable. ‘Is Tommy here?’ he struggled to say. ‘I want to ask him if he’s seen the key.’

‘He’s upstairs.’ John compressed his lips into a regretful smile. Nick headed for the stairs, but heard his dad shout, ‘Are you staying for dinner, Nicolas?’

‘No, thank you. I’ll eat at home.’

‘You’re welcome to if you—’

‘No, Dad, it’s fine, thanks.’ The words spluttered out on his jog up the stairs. Being nosey, he peeked into the office on the way to Tommy’s room. He was happy to see his dad’s bed was no longer crammed into there; John was back to the bedroom he used to share with Nick’s mum. Still being nosey, he next went to Tom’s old bedroom. It was a mess. The sight annoyed him, because it didn’t look like Tom could move back in even if he wanted to. There was a sofa instead of a bed, crap was sprawled all over the floor, and Tommy’s PlayStation 3 was set up, making use of a large TV and the couch.

Jump in your brother’s grave, Tommy, why don’t you? Nick sighed, then moved on.

He knocked on the only closed door upstairs, then heard a low grumble. A typical response from Tommy. Assuming it meant ‘come in,’ he entered.

Humid air, tinged sour, wafted out. Nick instinctively looked at the nearest window and considered going to open it. But that would appear rude. He tried to breathe lighter instead.

Tommy was lifting weights, his face dotted with sweat. He placed down the weights with a clink and then sat on his bed. ‘Sorry about Kerra,’ he mumbled. ‘Hope the police find her soon.’

That’s it? After not talking to me about it since it happened, that’s all you’ve got to say? Annoyed, Nick just nodded. ‘Yeah, me too.’ He knew Tommy hadn’t been fond of Kerra; when he’d started dating her again, his brother had outright said, ‘Why take that cheatin’ tramp back? I’d never get back with a girl that did that to me.’ Nick hadn’t bothered trying to justify it to Tommy, who wouldn’t have understood.

‘So, why yuh here?’ his brother rumbled.

Nick sat down on the other end of the bed. ‘Tom lost his house key. The last time he remembers having it was when he came here to see you and Dad.’

‘Oh.’ Tommy shifted, and when he moved, Nick realised how much bigger he was than before. As if on steroids. He and Tom used to be nearly impossible to tell apart, but now they were so different—Tom slim and lithe in movement, and Tommy brawny and intimidating. He’s taken it too far … He looks unnaturally muscular.

‘Do you know where the key is?’

‘No,’ he said too quickly.

‘You’re lying.’

‘No, I’m not.’

‘Yes, you are, Tommy. It’s obvious.’

Tommy turned away, flexing his arms. His bedroom was as untidy as the one he’d turned into a games room: Clothes were flung on the floor, and empty glasses and crumb-covered plates abounded. The most well-kept thing in sight was his multi-gym, as if it were a shrine or something. The walls were covered with tacky posters of half-naked women.

Nick took a conversational detour, hoping it would give his brother space to tell the truth. ‘How’s Chloe?’ As far as he could remember, that was Tommy’s current girlfriend.

‘Yuh ain’t gotta pretend yuh care about my social life, Nick.’ Tommy swung his head back to his brother, frowning. ‘I dumped Chloe ages ago.’

Nick didn’t know what to say. I really haven’t been paying him enough attention. He shifted awkwardly.

‘Uh, fine. I’ll tell you about the key.’ Tommy was scowling. ‘When Tom came over, he left his keys on the table near the front of the house. I couldn’t be asked to talk to him, and it’s not like he went out his way or anythin’ to talk to me, so I took his house key just to piss him off. After he went, I just left it lyin’ about. Ain’t seen it since, so I thought he must’ve come back and found it or summin.’

‘He didn’t; he went straight to Michael’s house after coming here. He’s been staying there since and only realised the key was missing yesterday when I told him I thought someone had been in the house.’

‘What? Like broken in?’

‘Well, it isn’t exactly breaking in if they have the key, is it?’ For a ridiculous moment, Nick wondered if Tommy could have given the key to Austin for any reason … No. He wouldn’t.

‘S’pose not. Have yuh asked Dad if he’s seen it?’

‘Yeah. He hasn’t.’

‘Oh.’ Tommy shrugged his enormous shoulders as high as they would go. I can’t believe how much bigger he’s got in just a few months. ‘I dunno, then.’

‘You don’t know? So nobody else has been to the house or anything? Think about when you took it and left it lying about, and then when you realised it was gone. Anybody come to the house in between?’

Tommy’s eyebrows pinched together slowly. ‘Yeah, actually. This guy did. He was like sayin’ he was one of them gas reader guys, so I let him in, but then he was walkin’ about all suspicious like he didn’t know what he was doin’. I started thinkin’ he was some dodgy man, pretendin’ to be someone he’s not so he could steal somethin’, so I told him to get the fuck out the house. I walked him to the door, but he must have swiped the key when he walked past the table on his way out or summin. I didn’t see, though.’

‘Did you recognise the man? Did he give a name or anything?’

‘Nah.’

‘Nothing?’

Tommy tilted his head, giving Nick an impatient look. ‘Ermm … I found a receipt in the hallway after he left. I thought it might have fell out his pocket or summin, but when I looked at it I saw it was an old one from when we went on holiday once.’

Oh … That’s weird. ‘What holiday?’

‘When we went to that lodge place near Eradon Lake. It wasn’t one of our proper holidays, ’cause we didn’t go abroad or anythin’, but it was good still.’

Trying to remember it, Nick’s mind squirmed over something … What is it? The memories were coming to him, slowly … ‘Yeah, I think I remember it.’

‘Eleanor Lodge Park it was called … or summin.’

Then Nick realised, My vision of the past! In the vision, he had been limited to what his younger eyes focused on, which had mostly been the game he was playing, and his brothers arguing over who would be the goalie in football. He hadn’t seen enough to realise he was in a lodge. ‘I’m starting to remember … Can I see the receipt?’

His brother went stiff at first, seemingly reluctant, but he got up, opened a drawer, and then handed it over.

Nick asked, ‘Why did you keep this when you found it? Instead of just chucking it away?’

‘It was a nice holiday,’ said Tommy, appearing deep in thought, ‘wasn’t it?’

Tommy wasn’t ordinarily the sentimental sort, so his behaviour got Nick to thinking. In his head, he heard the twins bickering over their football game, but then he remembered more of the holiday, and how much fun the twins had had together. His heart plummeted.

‘Yuh played Pokémon for like the whole time we were there,’ Tommy went on in a deep voice drenched in reminiscence, ‘and me and To—’ He stopped, went quiet. After a while he huffed. ‘Never mind.’

Looking at the receipt, Nick saw how unspoiled it was, no creases nor crumples nor smudges. He further inspected it. ‘Erm … Tommy? You didn’t look at the date on here, did you?’

‘What do yuh mean?’

‘Well, it’s only dated last week … We went on that holiday years ago. Don’t you think the receipt would be more worn than this if it were that old?’ It shocked him that these simple observations hadn’t occurred to his brother. Maybe seeing the name of the lodge printed on the receipt had brought back the fond memories to Tommy, making him want to believe it was from all those years ago.

‘Well,’ Tommy began angrily, ‘just fuckin’ bin it, then. Whatever.’

‘What’s the matter, Tommy?’

‘Nuffin.’

‘Well, that’s obviously not true.’

‘Yeah, well, apparently everythin’s obvious to you, but I can’t even spot the date on a receipt.’

Nick knew his brother was wound up when he pronounced ‘you’ properly. ‘It’s easy to miss,’ he said in an attempt to pacify him.

‘No, it’s not. Yuh think I’m thicker than you, always have, and—’

‘Tommy. What is the matter? I was only pointing out the date to say that the receipt must have fallen out of that guy’s pocket, meaning he’s most likely staying at the lodge. You’re not stupid; you’ve just helped me find out who might have rummaged through my house.’ You’ve helped me more than that, he thought, but I can’t tell you … Ah, blossoms! That was it. Juliet had seen pink petals on Austin’s van, and there had been something significant about that. The memories came flooding back: The exact lodge Nick’s family had stayed in was right next to a large cherry blossom tree. It overhung the most convenient place to park a car. The tree would be in bloom at this time of the year.

‘Yeah, well it’s my fault the key went missin’, ain’t it?’

‘Sorry, what?’ Nick pulled himself back to the present. ‘No … That doesn’t matter anyway. Will you just tell me what’s the matter, please? I didn’t come here just to ask about the key. I wanted to see how you are … and find out what all the tension is between you and Tom. Is it that you have a problem with him being—’

‘No,’ Tommy barked, his voice compressed. He shook his head as if Nick would never understand. ‘I’m not a homophobe or anythin’. It’s …’

‘Just say it.’

‘It’s you. I don’t care that Tom’s gay; I’m pissed off ’cause he’s as bad as you are. Hidin’ stuff from me, not trustin’ me with his secrets. I shoulda been the first person he told.’

Blindsided, Nick said, ‘I … What do you mean? Hiding stuff?’

‘I might be stupid, but I know that stuff don’t add up. Like when we went to Aldrich’s. Why didn’t his mind power work on you?’

Tom had asked the same question but had been content with Nick’s answer, which was a lie: He’d told him he didn’t know. ‘I don’t know, Tommy,’ he repeated the untruth now.

‘Now you’re lying. And it’s obvious.’

‘Well, you tell me something,’ snapped Nick. ‘Did you really kill Aldrich on purpose?’

The room went silent. Nick hoped his dad hadn’t come upstairs, that he wasn’t overhearing any of this. Eventually, Tommy mumbled, ‘I don’t know … I wanted to kill him.’

‘But did you?’

‘Well I pushed the knife in, didn’t I?’

‘On purpose?’

Tommy stood up, paced back and forth, his hands balled into fists. Patiently, Nick waited until his brother sat back down and closed his eyes. ‘I could feel what he was feelin’ inside my head. It was like he hated himself. And I hated him too. When he came back to me and Tom, he was cryin’ like a baby. All that hate was makin’ me not think straight.’ He opened his eyes, gave them to Nick. ‘I don’t know if I killed him, or if he made me do it.’

Nick went to put a hand on his brother’s shoulder, but Tommy whacked it away. ‘Don’t bother, Nick,’ he growled.

That hurt. Not physically, but emotionally. ‘I’m trying to clear things up between us, Tommy.’

‘No, you’re not. You’re probably just tellin’ more lies. Like, what was everythin’ with Juliet about? Just showin’ up and tellin’ yuh she knew summin about Mum going missing, and then it turns out she knew that Ryan guy. Maybe she knew Aldrich too. Maybe she had summin to do with Mum being killed, and that’s why she was so quick to dump yuh afterwards.’

‘Dump me? We weren’t going out.’

‘Whatever,’ he shouted, a vein bulging in his neck.

Then it really hit Nick how deeply these lies were affecting his brother. He remembered Austin’s harsh words about his relationship with Kerra: You know why she cheated on you? Because you were self-obsessed. Lost in your own sad little life … She wanted to be happy with you. But you didn’t let her in. You pushed her away …

As his energy drained, he thought, I was selfish then, and I’m being selfish now.

‘So are you going to tell me everythin’?’ said Tommy angrily.

‘I …’ he began, but then he heard James’s deep voice and saw his miserable, gaunt face. You can’t, under any circumstances, tell anyone about any of this … When it comes to humans, my kind are extremely secretive … and willing to guard their secrets. You must remember this. ‘I …’

Tommy’s face turned hard. He cut off his brother with, ‘I’m not being funny, Nick, but just fuck off.’

Stunned wordless, Nick stood up and obeyed his brother. As he walked out of the room and closed the door, he realised he’d made a choice. I could have told him the truth. I should have, but now I’ve drawn an even thicker line between us.

He made his way out of the house, weakly calling goodbye to his dad.

Now he knew exactly where Austin was staying, it was time to pay him a visit.

CHAPTER TWENTY

‘SANDRA, CAN I speak with you in the office?’ said Juliet, a few minutes before Chanton Hillview was about to open.

In her brassy voice, Sandra replied, ‘Of course you can, love.’ Sandra was a broad-shouldered lady, about a head shorter than Juliet, and had short, roughly styled hair. She was approaching forty, and her face was hard, with tough skin that made her look older than she was, as if she’d seen many hard years. But when she was in a good mood she had a big and imposing grin to go with her big and imposing voice, a combination that allowed people to overlook her inset hardship.

Juliet turned to Ashleigh and Roy and gave them a little nod to make sure they understood what was happening. She headed to the office with Sandra. Charlie Robson wasn’t in today, but Juliet reckoned her employees had all gossiped about this impending meeting. Addressing the issue as soon as possible would be best, and this was Sandra’s first day back from being ill.

She’s a strong woman. She won’t take it personally. She’ll understand, make adjustments, and then get on with the job like she always does. After the previous day’s events, Juliet just wanted to tackle this manageable task and get on with the day. At least it wasn’t elves or witches or necromancers or the walking dead—all of which she tried to shove to the back of her mind.

This? This was something she could handle.

Sandra and she were both sitting down. She opened her mouth to say, ‘It’s nothing to worry about, I just need to speak with you regarding the way you sometimes come across to the rest of the staff team,’ but Sandra beat her to the punch.

‘I know what you’re going to say, Juliet,’ Sandra admitted tiredly. ‘But let me give you this first.’ She revealed a piece of paper and handed it over.

Juliet knew what it was without looking, but out of shock she asked, ‘What is this?’

‘My notice.’

Now the conversation (that hadn’t really begun) had flipped completely. Juliet found herself no longer wanting to reprimand the joint stand-in manager, but mentally conjuring reasons to make her stay instead. ‘You’re leaving?’

‘I’m afraid so.’

‘Can I ask why?’ Her mind floundered, chucked in the deep end by the last thing she’d expected. ‘Is there anything I can do to make conditions better for you here?’

Sandra had worked at Chanton Hillview for almost four years now, having been given the job after her husband’s company went into debt. Preferring to hire positive and hardworking people, Juliet snatched up Sandra right away, sensing her diligent side. It was the positive trait she’d taken a gamble on, unable to detect the authenticity of Sandra’s cheerfulness. Confidence and a wide grin can mask negativity, but it’s nonetheless there, and it will put cracks in that mask, seeping through every time the strain becomes too much. Eventually the mask will shatter completely, and you’ll have to face that negativity … and change it if you can. Juliet had learnt that from her own habit of denial.

‘No. It’s not something you can change.’ Sandra sounded solemn, like she’d thought about her decision a lot. ‘I’m just ready to do my own thing. You know, when you had all that time off, it got me thinking. I’m nearly double your age … I should be the one with an up-and-running business, taking as long as I like off and knowing the money’s still coming in.’

Unsure if Sandra was being spiteful or not, Juliet waited for further explanation. She at least knew her employee was exaggerating. She’s not nearly double my age … I think she’s just let the stress get to her. She’s being rash.

‘I’m not saying you don’t deserve it, love,’ Sandra added. ‘You do. Your parents might have set you up in terms of money, but you’ve worked hard to make this café what it is.’

Again Juliet waited, detecting a hint of resentment in Sandra’s words. She didn’t need to mention that my parents bought me the café; she could have easily dropped that and made the compliment sound whole.

‘I’ve always admired you, Juliet, and still do, but the truth is … I also envy the position you’re in. I want this kind of business for myself. When you gave me this job, you knew how much of a save it was for me … but lately I’m growing bitter. And I don’t want that.’

It was hard for Juliet to find any words. Sandra might have envied her position, but she didn’t know everything else that was happening. She also didn’t know Juliet accepting the café (and her home) from her parents came with the unspoken condition that she act the obedient daughter. A condition she’d broken.

‘Sandra. I don’t want to patronise you, but I’d like to make sure you’re making the right decision here. I shouldn’t have taken so long off, and if me doing that has put you under pressure, then it is my failure as a manager. I won’t have you driven away by that.’

Sandra grinned, her eyes lighting up her face. ‘When have I ever not been able to handle the tasks you’ve set me?’ She laughed loudly. ‘You give me a job, and I’ll have it done just like that, you know that. But it’s the pressure I’m putting on myself that’s gotten to me. I can do better in my life, and I can have more for it, too. There’s no doubt I could stay here until my working days are over. But I won’t.’

There’s nothing I can do, then. Juliet gave a genuine smile to her employee. ‘I understand.’ She also respected Sandra’s choice and wouldn’t dream of holding anyone back from their aspirations. ‘So,’ she said, in a tone that hinted at a future full of promise, ‘what will you do now?’

Instantly, Sandra’s demeanour brightened a thousandfold. She pushed up her broad shoulders and leaned towards Juliet enthusiastically. ‘It’s something I’ve thought of before: being a virtual assistant. I’ll essentially be self-employed, as I’ll choose my clients and do all the work myself. I won’t have the benefit you have, of being able to leave others to run the business without me, but I’ve got the admin skills, and I already know some clients who might be interested in hiring me. I’ve also bought a good book on how to set up, so I’ll be following that step by step.’

Juliet could imagine her doing the job, and a mental picture was forming in her mind already. With some more thought, she became suspicious that the real reason Sandra had been ‘sick’ off work recently was to devote that time to her new business idea. But Juliet didn’t want to turn the mood sour. Out of interest, she asked, ‘What does Lawrence think of it all?’

‘He’s been very supportive.’ Sandra turned her face hard in a comical manner and said in her brazen voice, ‘And if he wants to keep me sweet, he’ll stay supportive.’

Laughing, Juliet said, ‘Your poor husband.’

‘Ahhh, don’t feel sorry for him.’ Sandra cackled away for a while, but then swiftly turned serious. ‘Oh! Roy told me your grandmother had an accident the other day … She’s such a lovely woman. How is she?’

After Juliet explained Lillian’s condition, Sandra asked for her well wishes to be passed on, and then she slapped her thighs suddenly and stood up. ‘Well, I best make use of myself while I’m still here.’ And with that, she returned to the café floor.

Juliet was alone in her office. It was a simple room, filled by an oak desk with a stained glass lamp on top, shelves and cabinets for files and general storage, an extremely comfortable ergonomic office chair on one side of the desk, and some foldable seats for staff meetings. But really, Juliet liked to think of it as her own space. She’d given the room a homely feel, and in the past she’d spent evenings here studying and reading and listening to music, even when the café was closed. I miss doing that.

While she sat there, she thought about Sandra leaving. I’ll have to hire someone. That wasn’t much of a problem; in fact, she enjoyed the interview process. But then she considered not hiring anyone for the time being, and covering the hours herself. It would be nice to become absorbed in the running of the café again. She only wished her other dramas would disappear already.

After Nick had dropped her home the night before, she locked every door and window, burnt the scarf in her woodburner, and then rang Susan to find out how her gran was doing and to see if her parents had visited her yet. Apparently Lillian had been more energetic in the evening, having rested, but there was no sight of Juliet’s parents.

When that was all done, she had cleaned up her gran’s vomit and the smashed vase, and then researched online how to repair the hole Austin had stabbed in the wall. She didn’t have the required materials, though, so she left the job for another time. She had tried to sleep but was hardly tired. With the frustrating plan of waiting and doing nothing, she wanted to simply get on with her life.

Then an idea came to her.

At the witch’s house, nobody had thought of the obvious: Juliet had Austin’s mobile number. So last night, without telling anyone, she decided on her own plan. She would call him and make an offer. If he agreed to leave Nicolas and her alone and to set Kerra free and return her body, Juliet would pay him off. She had no idea what they’d do with Kerra’s corpse, but figured the half-elf would help them with that when he returned. Eager to resolve it all, she rang him.

The number had been disconnected.

With her hasty plan dashed, there was little choice but to call it a night. However, she remained awake for hours, inventing house chores to pass the time.

Today at mid-afternoon, she explained to her staff that she was leaving early to visit Lillian.

‘Juliet, before you go,’ said Roy, pulling something out from behind the counter, ‘you give this to Lillian for us.’ It was a ‘Get Well Soon’ card.

Ashleigh, after delivering a drink to a customer, scurried over and said, ‘I made Roy go and buy it on his lunch break. We’ve all signed it and I signed for Charlie, too!’ She smiled and bounced around on the spot like she was about to explode.

Roy chuckled. ‘I had planned on buying one today anyway,’ he explained in his strong accent, and turned to Ashleigh with a comical glare.

Nobody mentioned Sandra’s leaving, but Juliet assumed they all knew by now. A flutter of warmth ran through her when she looked at the card. ‘Thank you all for this; Gran will really appreciate it.’

They all gave their wishes again, before Juliet left and headed to the nearest bus stop.

Her ride to Amiton General Hospital was full of thought, and the avoidance of it. She wanted to block out everything to do with Austin, the Otherworld, immortality, the missing children, and supernatural beings, and focus on ‘reality’ instead—putting her life back in order and caring for her gran.

During her routine jog this morning, she had realised one of the reasons she used to love running was because it was a good blueprint for the road to success; getting started was easy, and then came the struggle (where some runners would ‘hit the wall’), but to succeed required perseverance. Of course now, because of her displacement, she could sprint for hours and never hit the wall. The metaphor still related to Chanton Hillview, though. After first setting up, there’d been a tough period, but Juliet kept at it and made it work.

This is just the tough period, she told herself. I lost my confidence and let my life slip, but I’ll push through again. I’ll have the life I want.

‘How wonderful of them,’ said Lillian, her teary eyes inspecting the contents of the card. ‘You are so very lucky to have such a lovely team.’ She sounded stronger than yesterday, but still occasionally winced and paused for breath while speaking. ‘Please tell them I said thank you.’

‘I will.’ Juliet took the card gently and placed it on the bedside table. Outside it was miserable, the sky grey and dark, making Juliet wonder if no view at all would be better than a window on a day like this. She drew her attention back to the hospital ward.

Lillian was acting strangely. Every now and then she would stare pensively at nothing, and Juliet had to draw back her attention. ‘Are you okay, Gran?’

Slowly, Lillian lifted a wrinkled hand and reached it out to her granddaughter. Her eyes became heavy. ‘I should speak with you about something.’

Juliet moved closer to the bed and held Lillian’s hand. It was warmer than she expected, the skin surprisingly soft. ‘What is it?’

‘Do you remember I told you I have always tried not to do bad to others and that I had never been attacked in all my years?’

‘Yes …’

‘That was how I believed it worked. You know the saying: What goes around comes back around.’

Hearing the phrase aloud annoyingly brought Beyoncé’s “Best Thing I Never Had” to Juliet’s mind. She had to push the tune aside, anticipating this conversation to be a serious one. ‘Gran. If you’re about to suggest that you deserved this, then—’

‘Sweetheart, you should listen to what I have to say first.’

That shut her up.

‘What I’m trying to say is …’ Lillian paused. Her body shook slightly with a deep inhale. ‘I haven’t been entirely honest with you.’

No, thought Juliet, dread spreading throughout her. No more lies.
Everyone has been lying to me. Mum. Dad. Austin. Tamara … Please not you, Gran. ‘What do you mean?’

‘To do with your mother, the reasons we have such a difficult relationship.’ Lillian turned away. ‘I … I made myself appear more innocent in all of it than I am, when truly, I should have told you this when I first came back into your life.’

Juliet bit the inside of her cheek by accident. Her eyes became hot. Feeling conscious of other patients in the ward, she glanced around, but luckily there was enough privacy. ‘Should have told me what?’

‘I’m not your biological grandmother.’

Time seemed to pause. Juliet was expecting a sense of shock to hit her, but it didn’t. She stood motionless, confused. ‘I don’t understand.’

‘I didn’t give birth to your mother. To be quite frank, I’m surprised you have never mentioned how dissimilar we look.’

Why would I think of that? she reasoned. You’re her mother … that’s what you both told me. Why would I ever question it? Juliet’s head began to hurt, as rare as it was for her these days. ‘Who is my biological grandmother, then?’

‘She’s dead. She died giving birth to your mother.’

Juliet moved away from Lillian swiftly, dropping her hand. She heard her gran gasp with emotion. Why is this happening? She paced, unable to understand why no one had ever told her this.

‘Sweetheart …’ said Lillian, her voice a thread.

‘No.’ Juliet said the word too loud, and closed her eyes and tried to calm down. ‘You need to explain yourself. I thought you were my granddad’s only partner … There are pictures of you two together before my mother was born. Why would he have a child with someone else?’

‘Because … I couldn’t have children.’

‘You were infertile?’

Lillian didn’t answer, and somehow that meant yes. Although Juliet wasn’t looking at her gran, she heard her cry softly, and through her tears she said, ‘We made use of a surrogate mother. It was quite taboo back then, and still is somewhat today. But it was all the worse when the surrogate died during childbirth. She was who we named your mother after; her name was Evelyn.’

Juliet pivoted on the spot and returned her eyes to Lillian. It still didn’t all make sense. Her gran gazed out at the morbid clouds, a tear-soaked face full of shame. ‘Okay. So you’re not my mum’s biological mother, but why would my mum have such a problem with that?’

‘We … we didn’t tell her at first, thinking her too young, and when we did we picked the wrong time. We told her in her teen years when she was very headstrong. She was already a daddy’s girl, but immediately she treated me differently. Your grandfather consoled me, telling me she would grow out of it, but she never did. In her late teens she met your father, Adam, and began courting him. At first she would show him off, as if to show how much more she cared for him than she did for me. Then of course your grandfather died before your parents were even married. You would have thought his death would bring my daughter and me closer, but it pushed us further apart.’ Lillian’s voice kept cracking. ‘After she married your father, they moved to Amiton together, and we barely spoke for a long time. Then she had you …’ Lillian said it as if Juliet were the Saviour or something; she looked to her granddaughter with adoration in her wet, bloodshot eyes. ‘I worked my way back into your mother’s life so that I could be in yours.’

With too much to process, Juliet walked away for a second. She took a plastic chair from a stack provided for visitors and brought it to the side of Lillian’s bed. Again and again she went to say something, but stopped each time. Eventually, she came out with, ‘So she doesn’t see you as her real mother?’

‘No. She does not.’

‘You said you made the mistake of telling her the truth at the wrong time … maybe too early, maybe too late. You realise you’ve made that mistake again.’ Juliet couldn’t help sounding edgy. ‘You should have told me this before.’

Lillian’s faced tensed proudly for a second, but then she winced and burst into sobbing. Juliet’s natural instincts wanted to give comfort. She overrode them, biting down on her emotions.

‘I … I know … I should have …’ Lillian pushed her words out. ‘It hurts to cry …’

Seeing her gran in physical pain, Juliet sucked up her pride. ‘I don’t want you to be upset. I just can’t believe you kept this from me. You made me believe you had done nothing wrong … You made it look like my mother’s behaviour was completely unfounded.’

Lillian sniffed up the last of her tears. ‘I know I did. I shouldn’t have.’

‘Is there anything else you’re not telling me? I’m guessing the rest of what happened is as you told me before: My parents won the lottery, you felt they were neglecting my emotional needs, they thought you were interfering, and that led to you and my mother having arguments … and eventually she kicked you out of our lives.’

‘Yes,’ she answered weakly. ‘We argued over many things, though, like your grandfather’s possessions, who should have what and why.’

‘There’s something I still don’t understand. If my mum’s problems are with you, then why does she treat me the way she does?’

Lillian took her time to answer. ‘I don’t think it’s just you. The only two people I ever saw my daughter open up to were her father, when he was alive, and your father. She may have changed over the years while I was out of all your lives, but I don’t think she has, from what I saw of her the other day. You tell me: Does she have other relationships?’

Within ten seconds or so, Juliet had recalled all of her mother’s friends she knew of. Most of them lived on Lansin Island, but, thinking about it, they always seemed more like shopping-and-gossip friends than anything else. Juliet doubted these people visited her parents much in Marbella, except to get free holidays. Maybe her mum had built meaningful relationships in Spain, but Juliet found it hard to imagine.

Then Juliet dwelt on her own friendships. There were people from school and college she could happily contact and spend time with, but no one she felt as strong a connection with as Kim. I’m like my mother, she worried, horrified. I let hardly anybody in, and the ones I do I lie to. She saw Austin’s face, up close in bed, and felt nauseated. I let myself get close to him … After not dating for so long, it should have been Nicolas she took her chances on. Yeah, he lied too, but like the ones Juliet told, they were to protect people. At least he didn’t kill and rape …

‘Sweetheart,’ Lillian caught her attention. ‘I’m afraid there’s more I need tell you. And it may be … hard for you to take.’

‘Okay.’ Juliet sat up tense in her chair.

‘You know that I visited the surgery the other day? Well, the GP was going to refer me for examination. But now he does not need to.’ She looked down at her hands, rubbing one with the other, and flinched at the pain of her movement. ‘When the doctor here told you yesterday that I wished to speak with you, it was because I was going to tell you then. I couldn’t though. I was weak. I did not feel ready.’

Just tell me! Juliet shouted in her head.

‘He gave me some bad news. When they ran tests before the operation, they discovered a tumour on my hip bone.’ Her face crinkled as she mumbled, ‘Cancer.’

The shock wiped Juliet’s mind clear for a moment. As it did, she felt the sudden presence of many spirits: a dead audience seeming to taunt, It’s okay, she’ll be with us soon … Your only true mother will leave you for us. She needed to repel them. She forced her eyes shut and repeated her mantra until the buzz of the spirits was gone. A new and unwelcome mantra took its place: Cancer. Cancer. Cancer.

‘Cancer?’ her voice came out weaker than expected. She got out of her seat and stood by Lillian, putting a hand on top of hers.

‘The doctor told me they were able to remove the tumour during the operation. But he believes it may have gone unnoticed for a long time. It is rare, he said, but sometimes happens. He believes it’s why I fractured the bone easily, not because of my age.’ Juliet watched her gran while she spoke; Lillian stared emptily ahead from time to time, then gave her glistening eyes to her granddaughter. ‘Me taking up yoga classes may explain why the pain only came recently, after the tumour going unnoticed for so long.’

‘How serious is it, then?’

‘The usual prognosis is five years, he told me. But they successfully removed the tumour. The problem is that the cancer may have spread.’ She stopped and sucked in air suddenly. Juliet gripped her gran’s hand tighter. ‘I’m fine, sweetheart.’

You’re not fine … ‘What treatment is there?’

Lillian appeared to inspect Juliet’s face. ‘This is why I didn’t want to tell you. You are worrying too much.’ Juliet said nothing, waiting for an answer. ‘First they will run further tests … but I don’t really know. If it has spread, then I suspect there could be more surgery at some point. Maybe chemo ... radiotherapy … I’m unsure, sweetheart.’ Her gaze gently fell.

‘Gran. You’ll be fine.’ Gran? Is she my gran? Juliet felt compelled to add, ‘I promise.’

Lillian gave a brief smile. ‘I have been thinking about it since the doctor spoke with me. If it has spread, I will be refusing treatment …’

‘What? Why?’

‘I knew a lady, back in Bath, who underwent cancer treatment. In the end it didn’t work, and she regretted it. Before she passed, she told me how she wished she had spent that time, and the energy she wasted on hope, on enjoying the last moments of her life.’ A tear had run down from one of Lillian’s eyes, wetting her cheek. ‘I am not saying treatment isn’t right for some people. But it is not for me. I’ve had a good life. I have loved, and married twice. And now I am blessed with the chance to know my granddaughter.’ She gave Juliet’s hand a squeeze.

Juliet could barely think for a time. She fixed her eyes on nothing in particular. Her body buzzed with a ridiculous amount of energy, but her heart was sad and heavy. When her mind finally straightened itself out, she considered her gran’s words. Whatever Lillian decided regarding treatment, Juliet would respect her decision. She was sure they would discuss it some more, but she also knew how she would want to be treated if it were her.

‘I’m feeling tired again,’ said Lillian.

But Juliet had more to address. ‘Does my mum know?’

‘No. The hospital only alerted her about the surgery, because I think in my shocked state I gave them permission to contact next of kin. They would not have told her about the tumour, though. The doctor only told me about it yesterday.’

‘I need to tell Mum and Dad about this.’ Juliet gave a curt nod. ‘They should see you.’

‘No, sweet—’

‘Gran.’ Juliet shook her head. ‘I’m telling them. After everything that’s been hidden from me, I want to clear it all up for good. You owe this to me.’ She was close to crying, but pushed through. A tough period, just need to persevere.

Lillian closed her eyes and sank her head into the pillow. ‘Yes … you’re right.’ Her hands weakened under Juliet’s. As she drifted off to sleep, she mumbled, ‘I am so sorry for everything …’

Juliet leaned over and kissed her gran’s forehead. She left the hospital swiftly. On her way out she tried to come to grips with her feelings; she wasn’t entirely annoyed at her gran, but wished she’d known everything sooner. Repeatedly, she asked herself, Why should I be given immortality and my gran cancer?

When she got back home she rang her mother, spilling everything over the phone. A few times her mum was so confrontational that Juliet thought she’d get nowhere. But she pushed on through, and pushed, and pushed. For a while they argued over why Juliet was never told about the surrogate. Mrs Maystone’s answer was: ‘You didn’t need to know, sweetie.’ It took a lot of restraint for Juliet not to bite back.

Evelyn remained stubborn until her daughter revealed Lillian’s condition; she fell silent for a long time. Saying it all aloud made it too real for Juliet. When her gran had told her the news earlier, it didn’t sink in. She was so used to seeing a problem and just dealing with it, that it automatically registered onto her mental to-do list, as if she could just say, Yes, today I’m going to tackle Gran’s cancer.

She had started to think some good came out of Austin attacking her gran, because it meant Lillian was diagnosed a little sooner. But that was ridiculous. Now Gran’s hip will have to heal alongside any cancer treatment she might need, if she even accepts treatment. Juliet began to cry, hoping the sounds wouldn’t reach the other end while she waited for her mum’s response. She shook her head at herself, and mentally began planning what she would do if her mother still refused to visit Lillian.

But Evelyn’s voice returned, and she agreed.

‘Good. We’ll discuss everything,’ Juliet said as firmly as she could manage. ‘I’ll let you know the best time.’ She hung up.

Later that evening, she received a phone call from Nicolas.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

THE INSIDE OF her house was even more impressive than the outside, observed Nick, as Juliet led him into a living room downstairs. There was so much stuff, and all of it so clean and tidy. And of blatant quality. But then he noticed a hole in the wall, near a hallway that led to another room.

‘DIY project?’ he asked sheepishly.

Juliet glanced over at it quickly, then looked back. ‘No; Austin.’

‘Oh.’ Nick imagined Juliet struggling for her life the way Kerra probably had. His shoulders pulled up tense. The evening before, he’d called Juliet and told her about his visions, the missing key, what Tommy had told him, and the blossoms—and how it all pointed to a lodge he stayed in when he was younger. Now here they were, about to discuss a plan of action.

‘You can sit down, Nicolas,’ said Juliet, doing so herself. When Nick was comfortably positioned on an extremely agreeable couch, Juliet said, ‘We’re not telling Tamara or James about this, then?’ She sounded unhappy with the idea.

‘I don’t get a good feeling from James. I think he’d stop us from going if we told him. And so would Tamara.’

‘We don’t know that.’ Juliet pushed her blonde hair over her shoulder. ‘If James wants to keep you safe, then maybe he’d come with us and help.’

‘No. It’s more likely he’d try to sort it out himself, make Austin disappear, and then keep everything from us. He’d only tell us when or if he has clearance to.’

Juliet frowned. ‘I suppose he would, which is no good. I want to speak to Austin myself. But …’ She tilted her head. ‘James might offer some protection. He’s really … tall, and he’s got …’

‘Magic? I know. Or so he says, anyway. But we don’t know how powerful it is. Actually, I probably wouldn’t be in this mess if he’d been able to protect me properly.’

Juliet was dressed plainly, probably aiming for inconspicuous. She was wearing a simple white tee-shirt, skinny black jeans, and casual black pumps. Nick wasn’t sure if she realised, but the simplicity of her outfit made her stand out more; it highlighted her amazing body and … He blinked rapidly. What am I thinking?

‘I don’t like the idea of us going there alone,’ admitted Juliet.

Nick became frustrated. ‘It’s the only way we are going, because I’m not telling them about this.’ He hadn’t meant to sound so antagonising. Every time he saw Juliet, they argued over something, he realised. To his surprise, she let it drop. He moved on to the next issue. ‘So, should we take anything with us?’

‘You mean a weapon?’ Her brow creased.

‘I don’t want to take one, but I also don’t want to make the same mistakes we made before. We went to Grendel Manor unarmed and ended up in danger. Maybe if we take something just for our protection, just to show we’re prepared to defend ourselves.’

‘But if we’re found with a weapon, we’ll look guilty.’

He’d thought of that. ‘That was the reason I didn’t bring one to the factory the other day, and I would have been killed if you hadn’t shown up.’

‘We’re not taking a weapon,’ Juliet said with finality. ‘Our best tactic is to make a deal with Austin. You might not like the sound of this, but I think I should offer him money in exchange for him releasing Kerra’s spirit, returning her body, and leaving us alone.’

Nick considered it for a moment. ‘You’re right; I don’t like it. He murdered my girlfriend, and it’s likely he could have killed other people. He should be locked up. And not just that, we need to know who he’s working for, because it’s that person who wants me dead.’

‘But if Austin ends up in jail, he’ll tell the police what we’re guilty of. You already know that.’

‘So we should let him go free? And give him a load of cash too … for killing my girlfriend?!’

‘Don’t be stupid; I didn’t mean it like that.’ Juliet adjusted her posture and sighed heavily.

‘Well, how did you mean it? We can’t just throw money at the problem,’ he said scornfully.

It was as if he’d slapped her in the face. Her teeth clenched, and she glared at him. ‘Thanks, Nicolas. I’m trying to help you out here, and you’ve completely taken it the wrong way. You didn’t need to spurn my offer like that. It’s not my girlfriend who’s suffering, and it’s not me this person wants dead. I don’t have to help you at all if I don’t want to. But I do.’

‘Why? Why do you want to help?’ After the last time, he still doubted her motives.

‘Because I do.’ There was a grim determination in her eyes.

Worried, Nick watched her for a while. He asked, ‘What’s happened?’

She stood up like she was ready to go, and averted her eyes. ‘Yesterday I found out my gran, who I’d been separated from for twelve years, has been hiding things from me. Not only that; she has cancer. My parents lied, my gran lied, Tamara lied, and so did Austin.’ Her voice became hard, unwavering. ‘I’m not looking for sympathy; I just plan on piecing everything back together. I’ll deal with my family—in fact, I’m already sorting them out, but now … Now we’re going to deal with Austin.’ If she had a gun, Nick imagined she’d have cocked it right about now.

‘Well,’ he began, feeling awkward, ‘I wasn’t expecting a pep talk.’ Juliet ignored his attempt to lighten the situation. Out of courtesy, he said, ‘This is your gran who Austin attacked, right? Is she okay?’

Juliet quickly explained her gran’s condition to Nick, and at the end her voice became weak. She turned away and brought a hand up to her face. Nick went to her, putting a palm on her back, and felt how much heat she radiated. Kerra came to mind. Why’s everything so screwed up? He remembered when Juliet first kissed him, in his car, the feel of her lips. I can’t think of that now; I shouldn’t think of that now.

‘Sorry,’ said Juliet, her voice strong again. ‘You shouldn’t see me like this. I don’t get upset in front of people often.’

Nick huffed miserably. ‘I’m the last person you need to apologise to for that reason.’

She gave some justification anyway. Towards the end of it she said, ‘I’ve come to realise that if I’m too afraid to face a problem, or I can’t handle it, I just run away. Block it out. Like the spirits.’ She was half mumbling now, as if talking to herself more than Nick.

Nick waited silently. After a moment, he took his hand off her back.

‘I shouldn’t have told you all of that.’ Juliet put iron in her voice and turned to face him. ‘Let’s get on with this already.’

‘Okay. So, we need to get Austin to talk to us, and I don’t think he’s going to do that willingly.’

‘Should I take my personal alarm?’

He thought on it. ‘Yeah, but don’t actually use it. We can’t draw attention to ourselves. Just threaten him with it if he tries anything, but that’s if he’ll even fall for that again.’

‘I don’t think he will.’

‘Hmmm. It’s better than nothing still. But what’s our actual plan if he tries to attack us?’

‘I’ve taught myself basic self-defence since Grendel Manor. I should be okay. But if he comes at us with that knife of his, I think we should run. Hopefully we can talk to him without any aggression, though.’

Agreeing to run away didn’t feel right, but Nick supposed it was their best survival tactic, considering they were going unarmed. ‘Fine. But what about Kerra? She was strong, like superhuman strong …’

Nick felt so uncomfortable, the two of them standing in the living room, close to each other but at the same time not close at all. He watched her face as she came up with an answer. ‘If she attacks us, I’ll try to do the opposite of what Austin’s done to her: I’ll force her spirit out of her body.’

With a breath heaved in, Nick nodded. ‘So it’s a plan. Let’s go.’

‘Wait … I just need to go to the bathroom.’ She hurried off.

Nick dawdled about the room while he waited. He saw a picture above the fireplace and moved closer to take a look at it. There was an elderly woman in the frame, smiling warmly, with grey hair to her shoulders. Juliet’s gran. A sadness weighed him down momentarily as he contemplated the health of the lady he stared at.

After some time, he began to pace, tapping his leg, tapping and tapping and tapping. What’s taking her so long? He figured it would be rude to ask her that when she finally returned.

Together they left the house. Nick peered up. Above loomed a dark cloud that looked too heavy to be in the sky. It’s going to rain, he thought, becoming pensive and lost in the depth of the brooding blanket. He walked in an aimless manner, though he found the way to his car.

With the two of them buckled in, he drove towards Aberfin River, where he would cross and follow around Eradon Lake, finding himself between Nova River and Forney Forest, which bordered Etherby and also neighboured Eleanor Lodge Park.

He’d realised the evening before, after seeing the receipt for the lodge’s shop, that it would have been easy enough for Austin to drive from West Edge Country House to Eleanor Lodge Park without being seen or caught on camera.

Even with the dour sky, it was mild outside, making the car warm up easily. Nick opened the window on his side, then remembered something Juliet had yet to tell him. ‘That woman who fell to her death where you were meant to, Rowena Howard her name was, wasn’t it? You told me she appeared to you, that she didn’t blame us. What happened?’

‘Apparently she was waiting in the upper grounds at the top of the wall, and then she heard noises. From what she described, I think she heard the sounds of the car crash, and then some kind of invisible force threw her over the edge.’

So it was my fault. He felt guilt setting in. ‘Changing fate appears to have consequences.’ He thought about Mora and her stomach pains where she was supposed to get injured. She’s lucky those cramps passed …

‘You couldn’t have known that would happen to Rowena.’

‘I know. But I still feel responsible.’

‘So do I. It should have been me. But when Rowena appeared as a spirit, she said everything was as it should be. She seemed to know things she hadn’t in life. She also …’

‘What?’

‘It’s … not the best time to tell you.’

‘We’re supposed to be telling each other everything now. If we have to keep lying to everyone else, like James wants us to, then let’s at least tell each other everything.’

Juliet was clearly reluctant. ‘She … she said … that you and I belong together.’

In his periphery, Nick saw her turn away and keep her gaze out the window. He felt suddenly drained. Well, this is awkward. Thanks for that, Rowena. ‘Erm ...’ What should I say, what should I say? ‘Well, as we both know, nothing’s set in stone. I’ve changed what was meant to happen before.’ He saw Juliet straighten up stiffly beside him. Oh, crap. That was the wrong thing to say. But what should he have said? It didn’t matter how attracted he was to Juliet—no romance could develop between them any time soon.

‘As we both know,’ she agreed.

Nearing the destination, Nick half-jokingly said, ‘Any quick self-defence tips you can bestow upon me for the battle ahead?’

Surprisingly, Juliet laughed a little. She began to explain basic blocking techniques, and Nick glanced sideways to learn what he could while driving safely. She described how to break free from simple wrist grabs and the like.

‘Okay,’ he said, with some assurance, ‘so if he grabs my wrist, I should twist it towards the direction his thumb points in and pull away at the same time?’

‘Yes.’

‘Cool. Right, we’re almost there.’

Juliet gave a sweeping gaze. To one side was Forney Forest, and to the other there were fields and houses, a caravan park, and not too far was Eradon Lake. ‘Are we allowed to drive in and out of the lodge park if we’re not staying there?’

‘I think so,’ said Nick. ‘They probably only close the gates at night. But it will be like a caravan park; the entrances will be left open in the day, because guests would want to explore the area, wouldn’t they? It will be mostly off-islanders staying there, I imagine.’

‘You’ve been there before, you said. Do you remember what it’s like?’

‘Erm … I don’t remember much. I think it’s a big place, like there’s a lot to do, and the lodges are quite private. But I was younger then. Everything seems bigger when you’re younger.’

‘Hopefully they won’t have cameras on the entrances,’ said Juliet, as if Nick had overlooked the possibility.

‘We’ll just have to see.’

He drove under a bridge and followed a tall perimeter fence until he found the opening. No CCTV so far. If I owned a lodge park near Etherby, there’d be more cameras than lodges. Driving in, he spotted a camera on the exterior of the reception building, positioned to monitor people walking in and out, but not the cars. To the other side was a general store with the park’s logo on its banner … The shop the receipt came from.

He drove on. Nobody stopped them. They needed no passcode. The entire place seemed almost desolate. They passed fairly small cabins, dotted between trees, and then a children’s play area. Further in they saw a football pitch, hemmed in by a metal frame with holes. Then they drove near a more wooded area with a walkpath leading from the park and out into Forney Forest.

The name of the forest was often twisted into various nicknames, earned from the acts people got up to among the trees. Forney Forest became Horny Forest, Fornication Forest, Foursome Forest, and Foreplay Forest, just to mention a few Nick had heard. With Beltane recently passed, the poor woodland would have seen a lot of a-Maying.

Nick approached where he suspected Austin’s lodge to be. ‘I don’t want to drive right up to it, in case he recognises my car from all the stalking he’s done.’ Being here started to jog his memories. ‘If I remember correctly, the lodge is over a little bridge crossing a stream, like it’s on its own little island.’

‘Where do you want to park?’

‘I’ve seen parking spots here and there. Let’s just find a quiet one.’ He figured that wouldn’t be hard, because everywhere he looked was quiet, with only the occasional person walking in one direction or another. He thought it strange how the atmosphere was both tranquil and unsettling: the calm and natural feel of the greenery and the earth and the trees and the wooden lodges … but then the element of danger, associated with the many horror stories set in cabins.

In minimal time, he found a space partly hidden by a copse. He parked and got out. Leading Juliet, he used his tenuous links of recollection to guide the way. This I remember, he thought with some relief, coming up to a metal bridge over a stream.

The bridge was a rusty colour, blending with the surroundings, and wide enough for cars to cross. Juliet had picked up her pace, now marching in line with Nick, and the two of them made their way over the crossing together. Cla-clunk, cla-clunk, cla-clunk, resonated with their steps.

Concerned, Nick thought, Austin might have heard that. He’ll know people are coming. But there was nothing he could do about it. Nearest to the stream, the trees were many, but soon thinned out. On a sunny day it would have been a beautiful sight, the wooded area suddenly parting to reveal an impressive lodge, built on the tip of mound, a cherry blossom tree arched over at its side.

Today it looked ominous. The perfect postcard picture of the lodge and cherry blossom tree was offset by the overhanging black cloud that was everything bad and sad and evil rolled up, ready to descend upon them at any moment. Nick half expected a fork of lightening to strike down.

The lodge itself was lovely, one of the higher-end luxurious choices. It may even have been the best in the park, considering its private island-like area circled off by the stream.

‘You stayed here?’ asked Juliet, sounding impressed rather than spooked by the ambience.

Nick realised what she was thinking. ‘Oh. Yeah … We weren’t that badly off when I was younger. Mum and Dad both had good jobs. We went on a lot of holidays.’ He turned to her; she gave him an anxious smile.

Closer, closer. He saw no movement from inside, heard zilch. But a flicker of something on top of the lodge caught his awareness. A blackbird, throwing its yellow beak side to side, watching with little eyes. Seriously? … Everywhere I go? ‘Are you and your friends stalking me?’ he muttered up to it.

‘Huh?’ Juliet flicked her eyes from him to the animal. ‘Are you talking to that bird?’ Amusement inflected the end of her sentence.

‘Yeah. They follow me everywhere,’ he exaggerated. Juliet shook her head as if his observation was ridiculous and mildly funny. Fine, he thought, and decided to forget the bird.

To the right of the lodge was a white van, parked in the only flattened ground not occupied by the actual lodge. It was quite an inconvenient spot, really, as it happened to be under the cherry blossom tree. Nick eyed the vehicle and saw the name of the company it was hired from. Nebulous memories fogged the back of his mind, images of his parents’ old car covered in pink petals.

‘That’s the van I saw him leave the factory in,’ confirmed Juliet.

‘Austin is staying here, then.’ Nick was now a heartbeat away from the door. ‘I suppose we should knock,’ he said, and rapped away.

No answer. Further raps, further silence. ‘He’s not in …’ Nick mumbled in a lost manner, looking to Juliet for guidance.

Annoyingly, she had no suggestions. ‘What do you think we should do?’

He walked along the wooden porch and peeked through a window, a subtle nostalgia affecting him. He spotted something on a table. My diary … and next to it … Tom’s house key. He didn’t want Juliet to know of the existence of his embarrassing journal, so he said nothing of it.

Kerra; his thoughts slapped him to alertness. ‘Do you think Kerra’s inside? She must be somewhere here … I don’t think he’d take her out too much … or maybe she’s in the van … unless he’s disposed of her by now.’ He hated these thoughts. ‘Maybe we should break in?’ he said spontaneously.

‘No. That’s a bad idea.’

She was right. It was. ‘Can you use your ability, then? See if you can sense where her body is?’

‘I can try—’

Cla-clunk, cla-clunk, cla-clunk...

‘Crap,’ hissed Nick. ‘Someone’s coming.’ His body felt as if that half-expected fork of lightening had struck it, an electric fear zapping through, leaving his heart beating fast. Above he heard the blackbird cheep and flap away into the gloomy sky. The sounds reaching him implied only one person crossing the bridge. If it was Austin approaching, then maybe just standing and waiting for him would be okay, seeing as they wanted a civil conversation anyway—well, as civil as it could be. But if someone else was coming … ‘Let’s hide. We don’t want to be seen here by anyone.’

A flash of uncertainty passed over Juliet’s face, but then she said, ‘Quick then.’ She pushed him towards the side of the lodge.

They managed to conceal themselves, Nick in front of Juliet, with his head near a corner he could peak around. What if we’re caught here? What if Kerra’s body is inside the lodge? We’ll look guilty. But then he saw the approacher.

James Rea.

Huh? Fear spread through him while his mind scrambled to make connections. ‘It’s James,’ he whispered, twisting to see Juliet’s reaction. ‘What’s he doing here? He must be working with Austin.’

The apologetic expression on her face told him he was wrong. ‘I’m sorry, Nicolas,’ she said, and stepped out of cover. ‘I texted Tamara before we left. I told her we were coming here … She must have sent him.’

Confusion stunned Nick, slowing his mind. Then he figured it out. That’s why you took so long in the bathroom. The realisation hurt. ‘Why did you text her?’

‘I didn’t feel safe, us coming alone. I’d hoped we would catch Austin before Tamara or James arrived and that we’d have a chance to ask him everything we wanted to … but then what would we have done? He might have attacked us. Or if he agreed to leave us alone and hand over Kerra’s body, then I wasn’t prepared to move a body with you.’ She shrugged, though now she seemed less sorry. As if she’d had no choice, she finished with, ‘We need their help.’

Nick’s anger was almost too much. He struggled to say, ‘So much for telling each other everything.’

Juliet kept a stony face, then walked towards James and said his name in a quiet but clear voice. He headed over. For a moment, Nick closed his eyes and purged his frustration by letting it course through him. Then he joined Juliet and the half-elf.

‘I told you not to confront Austin, you idiot,’ were the first words out of James’s mouth. They were aimed solely at Nick.

James panted, failing to stand up straight, and sweat raced down his gaunt face. His mini afro hair was a mess. His mismatched eyes were clouded with red veins.

‘Are you alright?’ asked Nick. ‘You look like you’re about to drop.’

Juliet added, ‘How did you get here so fast? Where’s Tamara?’

On top of those questions, Nick stacked, ‘And I thought you were with your kind?’ He had considered taking a trip down to forty-eight Maw Street that morning, just to make certain James was away, but figured it a stupid idea. It would look bad if he was seen visiting a house that belonged to someone who fitted the description of the suspect he’d given to the police.

‘Give me a minute, would the pair of you?’ James barked. He placed his hands on his hips, craned his body up straight, and heaved in air. He remained in this Superman pose until his breathing normalised. ‘Don’t worry about my health. It’s just a side effect …’

Side effect of what?

James continued. ‘I finished discussions with my kind this morning and had only just returned when Tamara rang me.’ He glared at Juliet. ‘She’s been trying to call you, you realise?’

‘I turned my phone off after I texted her.’

James shook his head impatiently. ‘You’re both trying to make this difficult for me, aren’t you?’ he asked, but gave no time for answers. ‘You might as well chuck yourself in front of a bus now, Nicolas, and I’ll accept whatever punishment my kind dispense for letting you die.’ He began gesticulating frantically. ‘In the long run it will be a whole lot less painful than trying to protect you, only to have you throw yourself at the enemy and die anyway!’

‘Would you stop whinging already and answer our questions?’ Juliet snapped.

It was as if James’s senses returned to him. He blinked rapidly and relaxed his stance. ‘Yes, okay. Tamara is on her way. I was travelling with her, but feared we were taking too long. So I … moved ahead.’

‘What do you mean?’ said Nick. ‘By private jet? Helicopter?’ he mocked. ‘How did you get here so fast?’

‘It doesn’t matter.’ The half-elf trained his eyes firmly on him.

I’m getting tired of this kind of sh— ‘Ughh, fine … But how did you know where we’d be in this park?’

‘In Juliet’s text, she mentioned a cherry blossom tree. There’s a big sign with a map on at the entrance; this lodge and the tree are on it.’

Oh. That would have helped Nick find the lodge more easily himself, rather than relying on blurry memories. ‘Well, whatever. Now we’re all just standing here in the open, looking suspicious, and Austin doesn’t seem to be in the lodge. What’s our plan? I suppose you’re in charge now, James?’

‘Yes, I am.’

‘So?’ Juliet contributed.

‘I’ve been ordered to apprehend Austin. He’ll be taken to my kind, both to keep you safe and to interrogate him.’

‘About this enemy of yours?’ asked Nick. ‘The person who wants me dead?’

‘Yes.’

‘Okay. Well, I have an idea. You said you used magic to break into my guestroom at West Edge Country House. If you can do that to get into Austin’s lodge, then Juliet can use her ability to locate Kerra’s body and force her spirit out of it. Then when we find Austin, he can’t use Kerra against us. Juliet had planned on bribing him to leave us alone, but without Kerra for defence, I think you and I could restrain him … if we can’t convince him to come willingly.’

The atmosphere seemed to shift while Nick waited for a response, a slight pressure playing with his sinuses. James looked torn, and generally sulky. ‘That’s a good idea,’ he finally said. ‘How do you know this lodge is Austin’s?’

‘I had a vision, and Juliet recognises his van.’

The half-elf accepted the answer with a tired nod. ‘It’s about to rain, so let’s get inside.’

When they were at the door, James covered the keyhole with his hands and closed his eyes. There was a short buzz, then Nick heard a few clicks. James pushed down the handle. The door opened. Real magic or a trick? The idea that he’d just witnessed actual magic gave him a frisson … and some nausea, too.

‘You two said you think you can restrain Austin,’ Juliet started to say as they walked inside, ‘but he’s soulless like me, and he might have been that way for years. I’m full of energy because of it, so he might be a lot stronger than he looks.’

‘I might be a lot stronger than I look too,’ James retorted indignantly. He came to a stop and glanced about the lodge’s interior.

The room was massive, but had an unusual layout, like it had been rearranged. Where Nick imagined a lounge area should be, was a king-sized bed, as if Austin had hauled it out here himself. Though surely it would have to have been dismantled and reassembled for that. Nick eyed his diary again. He said nothing of it, not wanting to draw attention to it, and left Tom’s house key by its side.

‘Austin has a weapon …’ Juliet added to her concerns.

‘And I might have a weapon too …’ said James.

The thought unnerved Nick, and for a second he thought he saw something on James’s hip—a small scabbard—but then there was nothing. He squinted to inspect, but still … nada. Growing tired, he curtly said, ‘Juliet. We need to hurry.’

A heavy pattering erupted on the ceiling. The rumbling seemed to come from every direction. Nick usually enjoyed the sound of drumming rain, but now was not the time to bask in sensory pleasures. Now was the time to set Kerra free.

Juliet stood statue-like, only moving her head every now and then, as if listening for something. ‘I can sense more spirits than just Kerra’s,’ she said quickly. ‘And they’re all suffering.’ She closed her eyes and covered her face with a hand. ‘I’m blocking them out for a moment. I need to prepare myself and try again in a second.’

Nick’s patience wore thin, but he knew not to force Juliet. Like his, her ability probably had a lot of layers and complications to it, and mental focus seemed to be the key to control. More spirits than just Kerra’s … and they’re all suffering … He peered about, imagining a horde of reanimated corpses pouring out of the doors surrounding them.

‘Okay. I’m ready,’ said Juliet. She pursed her lips slightly, breathing audibly through her nose. After a moment she walked to one side of the room, stopping near a shelf. On it was a ceramic jar. It was a mixed yellow-and-green colour, an ugly thing. ‘There are spirits trapped in here,’ she murmured softly. She reached out her hands like she was about to touch it, then recoiled. ‘There are so many … It’s like he collects them.’ When she turned to face Nick, her eyes glistened, but quickly she compressed her lips, looked away, and moved in another direction. ‘Kerra isn’t among them.’

Nick watched her pad across to the king-sized bed. She stopped at the foot of it and looked down. In front of her was a large storage chest. Moving sideways to get a better view, Nick eyed a padlock on the trunk.

‘She’s in there.’ Juliet nodded down at the locked wooden case.

Slowly, an image crept to Nick’s mind. He felt sick. He lurched to one side but swallowed down the acid in his throat. He’s been keeping her in that chest at the end of his bed … like some kind of toy … Dizziness. Headache. Sweating. It took him some time to regain his composure, but thankfully James and Juliet were quiet as he did.

Not able to say anything, he straightened up. He looked James in the eyes and gave a significant nod towards the chest.

‘Okay,’ said James, with an unexpected amount of empathy. ‘I’ll open the lock, and then Juliet can do her thing.’ He still appeared knackered, as if he’d fasted for a week and then run a marathon. He trudged in the direction of the trunk. He knelt down and placed both hands over the padlock. Another strange buzz, and the lock popped open. He removed it from the metal hoops that held it in place, then put a hand on the lid of the chest …

Cla-clunk, cla-clunk, cla-clunk … From inside the lodge, and against the rain, the noise sounded tinnier than before.

‘Crap again!’ cursed Nick. Stealthily he skulked up to a window and squinted out. What he saw gave him a start. ‘It’s Austin, and he’s moving fast to get out of the rain.’ He swung around to see Juliet looking as panicked as he felt. James seemed collected. ‘What-should-we-do?!’ he demanded with ridiculous speed.

‘Hide,’ said James. ‘When he comes far enough inside, I’ll block his exit.’

Nick ran to the back of the lodge, Juliet joining him on the way, and he turned back to see James crouch behind a brown leather sofa near the front door.

He picked the closest room, grabbing Juliet’s hand and guiding her inside with him. Ahh … There was a single bed and everything was plain, the way a kid’s hotel room would be. This is where I was in the vision … The bedroom I stayed in when my family holidayed here. He almost said these things aloud. Thinking of all the doors he could have chosen from, he wondered why Austin had rented what was probably the largest lodge in the park. He decided on, Because he’s a pretentious dick, and was probably paid a fortune to make my life a misery before killing me.

Silently he gestured for Juliet to move back from the door so he could hold it slightly open and peep through the gap. Nick watched through the vertical vantage point. He saw Austin enter the lodge, soaked and holding a carrier bag with the park’s logo on it. He must have been at the shop when we drove in. We’re lucky he didn’t see us. Dripping wet, he appeared more pale than at the factory, his skin heavily contrasted with his glistening black hair. He wore the same jacket he’d concealed his weapon in before.

As if it mattered, Nick compared his own looks to Austin’s, wondering whom Juliet thought more attractive. But then Austin glanced in their direction. Nick instinctively shot back to hide. He made the door rattle in his speed. Crap, crap, crap, crap, crap … A thrumming started on his eardrums, joining the rumbling patter from the roof. His heart thumped so hard he was sure the necromancer would hear.

Footsteps, tapping louder, closer. ‘Who’s there?’ Austin’s voice sounded flat against the heavy rain.

Nick flung the door open and stepped out, figuring it would be worse to be found in an enclosed space. Juliet followed close behind. ‘Austin. We just want to talk.’ Nick held up his hands at either side of his head. What is James doing?! Why isn’t he jumping out already? Nick stepped towards the necromancer, slow and steady, trying to move into the roomiest section of the lodge.

‘Oh, right, yeaaahhh …’ said Austin sarcastically. ‘Because talking to me required breaking in here?’ He chucked his carrier bag to the side. It landed on the sofa that hid James. ‘And what are you doing here, Juliet? Have you come to iron out our relationship problems?’ He gave a mocking pout.

‘Nick and I are here together, to make a deal with you.’

Austin crossed his arms. He appeared to consider the idea. For one second. ‘Erm, no,’ he said bitchily. ‘I won’t be making a deal with you. I was gonna let you go, Juliet. Figured you weren’t worth the hassle. But now I’ll have to kill you both.’ He reached inside his jacket. At the same time, Juliet dug into her pocket, presumably for her personal alarm.

Nick didn’t know what to do.

Finally, James launched out from his hiding place. He had a short sword in his hand. An actual short sword.

‘Jesus-frickin’-Nora!’ Austin shouted and stumbled back so suddenly, he tripped over a coffee table and crashed onto the floor. Before he could stand back up, the end of James’s sword was pressed to his throat.

‘Reach for a weapon, and you’ll have no time to use it before I spill your blood,’ threatened the half-elf, though he looked like a flamboyant fool, stooped to make his mini sword reach so low.

Do it, a vengeful voice rang in Nick’s mind. Slit his throat. Do to him what he did to Kerra! But the thoughts turned him queasy, and the idea of witnessing it repelled him.

Austin’s upper lip curled into a snarl. He’d somehow dribbled onto his own face and was huffing loudly and repeatedly. ‘What’s your problem, you frickin’ weirdo?!’ he raged at the half-elf. ‘Hiding behind a sofa like that?’

‘Nicolas and Juliet have told me of the things you’ve done,’ said James calmly. ‘I think we all know who the weirdo is here.’

The necromancer continued to huff and puff, his white skin blotching red in places. ‘Are you going to kill me?’ he forced out of his tense mouth.

‘No. I’m going to speak with you.’

‘Let me up then.’

James moved away in no hurry, keeping his weapon trained on the necromancer. When Austin was up, he arched his neck to peer at James’s face. ‘Jeez, you’re tall,’ he said, sounding disgusted. Then his face lit up. ‘Your eyes … one of them is like …’ He moved his head side to side, clearly trying to inspect James’s ears. They were hidden under his curls. ‘I know what you are. You’re a half-elf.’

The expression on James’s face remained the same. He flicked the short sword towards the sofa and said, ‘Sit down and we’ll all talk. Try anything and I—’

‘I know.’ Austin made his way to the sofa and sat down. Another couch was set up opposite, and James took a seat on that one, still pointing his weapon at the necromancer. Juliet joined, leaving no room for Nick (unless he wanted to sit side by side with Austin, which he did not). He propped himself on the arm of the couch, next to Juliet.

Before Nick or James could say anything, Juliet asked the necromancer, ‘Why did you get romantically involved with me?’ She said it as if only the two of them were present. ‘I need to know … Did you actually have feelings for me?’

Austin rolled his eyes. ‘No, no feelings, I’m sorry to say, not even a quickening of my oh-so-romantic heart.’ He shrugged, barked a laugh.

Nick peered sideways and slightly down at Juliet without turning his head. She pushed herself forward, bringing her hands together. ‘So you completely used me?’

‘Yes, gorgeous, that’s what I did.’ The necromancer’s arrogance stirred hatred in Nick. His fists clenched as his arms and legs tensed.

‘I got what I could out of you,’ Austin expanded his answer, ‘because, you know, shame for you to go to waste. But really now, none of this is about you.’ With a cruel finality he said, ‘Get over it.’

The silence left was bitter. Unwanted images of Juliet and Austin sexually involved came to Nick’s mind. They saddened him. He tried to comprehend the emotions Juliet had to be feeling at this moment, but found it took too much energy to even try.

Now addressing James, Juliet said, ‘That’s all I wanted to know.’ She made it sound as if nothing else mattered anymore, like she was washing her hands of Austin. ‘The deal I’ve offered still stands if he wants to take it,’ she told the half-elf, ‘and if Nicolas is happy with it.’

James nodded, then looked to Nick. ‘Is there anything you want to ask Austin?’

It was turning into quite the little Q&A session.

After some thought, Nick gave the necromancer his eyes. ‘I want Kerra set free, you to be punished, and I want to know who you’re working for.’

Austin snorted with contempt. ‘Well I do say, that sounds like a beautiful deal! Where do I sign?’

Only the tension in Nick’s body stopped him from pouncing forward and smacking Austin around the face. I punched Alex Campbell for sleeping with Kerra, but so far I haven’t laid a finger on you for KILLING her! With a mountain of restraint, he looked to James.

The half-elf shook his head wearily, ashen curls jiggling. ‘Okay. So I’m going to tell you how it is, Austin—’

‘Actually,’ Nick interjected, ‘there is something itching at me …’ He realised already that he wanted to know the lamest thing, but something about it just didn’t add up. ‘Why did you take that key from my dad’s house?’ He pointed over to it, and Juliet and James both gave a glance. ‘It could have been a key for anything. Why did you go to my dad’s house at all?’

One of Austin’s short, sudden laughs escaped him. ‘I just went to snoop about. Find out more about you and your family. But then your monster of a brother, the Hulk, became suspicious of me and told me to get out. I snatched the key on the way. I figured whatever it was a key to would be useful somehow. Tried out your dad’s house later, but it didn’t work. Turned out it belonged to your pleasant little shithole.’

He likes his derogatory comments … Another question popped into Nick’s head. ‘Why haven’t you tried to kill me since we last saw you?’

‘Maybe I have tried.’ Austin made his face deadly serious, before cracking a short laugh. ‘The look on your face … Priceless.’

Quite the joker, aren’t you? Nick’s fingers squirmed with violent intent. ‘Just answer the question.’

The necromancer frowned. ‘You’re not better than me, you know that?’ he said. It was so unexpected that Nick frowned himself, confused. Austin finally answered, ‘It does take a little planning, you know? Killing people. I’ve failed to kill you enough times already.’

‘The person you work for still wants me dead, then?’

‘Very dead. Anyway, how do you know I’m working for someone?’ Austin seemed genuinely perplexed. His eyes swept from Nick to James. ‘Ah … the half-elf told you.’

James became impatient. ‘Nicolas, have you asked him everything now?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Good.’ He fixed his colourful eyes on Austin. Even though he was sitting on the sofa cushions, his head was as high up as Nick’s, though Nick was elevated on the armrest. ‘Austin. What’s going to happen is … you will free Kerra Evans’s spirit and return her body to us, and then you’ll come with me for questioning. If you cooperate, then there may be a way for you to have a life beyond this, provided you leave Nicolas and Juliet alone.’

Nick saw a glimmer of something flash across Austin’s eyes, maybe a fragment of hope, but then the necromancer pushed out his plump lips into a sour face. He parted them to say, ‘There is no walking away for me. I’m not just soulless like Juliet … I didn’t lose my soul in an accident; I traded it for my power, with the person I work for. He owns my soul.’

That was a haunting thought. It sent shivers over Nick’s body. There was a moment where he sensed Austin’s vulnerability; he saw that the necromancer wanted a way out, that maybe he was in too deep and would accept their help. He should be locked away for what he’s done, thought Nick, but he realised showing some empathy could benefit them here. And maybe it would have, if sulky James hadn’t said to Austin, ‘Regardless, I still need to take you and question you,’ and snuffed out that vulnerability.

Austin’s face turned indignant fast. He squinted, tilting his head and lifting his shoulders, and pulled a fake thinking expression. ‘Hmmm, in that case … screw this.’ He threw out a hand.

CRACK! Kerra popped out of the chest like a zombie jack-in-the-box. From the shock of it, Juliet screamed and James yelped. Nick would have shouted too, if Austin hadn’t shot up and kicked him in the stomach. He flew backwards off the sofa’s arm and went thud on the floor. Wheezing and coughing, he felt like he was about to puke up his insides.

Dizziness blinded him momentarily. He heard bangs and a loud clack and then shouting. Rain still drummed the ceiling, thousands of little feet dancing on the roof. His vision returning, white swirls and dots retreating, he saw the lodge door sway open. He connected the sounds and the sight, and realised the door had been slammed and was rebounding.

The sound of a vehicle starting up vibrated through the wooden floor. Through a low window panel, Nick glimpsed the van speeding past, Austin peering back and catching his eyes. The necromancer sneered. Then he was gone.

Why is nobody stopping him? shouted Nick’s mind, wondering where James and Juliet were.

But it was too late. Austin had escaped. Again.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

IT ALL HAPPENED so fast. Juliet had avoided looking at Austin, wanting nothing to do with him anymore, but she’d still paid attention to the conversation. And for a moment it seemed they were getting somewhere, until this …

Kerra’s corpse vaulted out of the chest and charged the half-elf, Austin high-kicked Nick across the room and escaped, and now Juliet was using her ability in an attempt to help James.

The dead body must have been strong. It pinned the half-elf down on the sofa, making him drop his short sword in the process, and pressed one hand down on his mouth and nose, the other on his chest. Although Juliet hadn’t planned on using it, she quickly searched for the sword, but couldn’t see it anywhere.

Moaning and rolling over on the floor, Nick was of no help. Juliet sent out her power, aiming it at the spirit in the corpse. She could feel Austin’s grip on it weakening, his control slipping as he presumably drove farther away. Juliet forced her control in its place. She willed Kerra’s spirit to relax, to cease attack, but it seemed to do no good. James’s face was turning purple under the pale hand. The fear in his eyes struck something inside Juliet.

Again, she tried to calm the spirit. This time Austin’s force was only a whisper. Juliet ratcheted up her own ability to a shout that obliterated his control. The body slumped suddenly, falling limp on top of James. The half-elf gasped, sucking in air … and relief, too, most likely. He shoved the corpse off himself and it thunked onto the floor in a way that soured Juliet’s stomach.

Luckily Nick was still down, looking blurry-eyed and holding his belly, and didn’t witness the ungraceful handling of his dead ex. James remained on the sofa, appearing more haggard than when he’d arrived. With Kerra stopped, Juliet could afford a moment of respite. She composed her body, her emotions, her mind.

The rain was falling heavier on the roof. Juliet manoeuvred around the body to help Nick to his feet, and when she did she held onto him, knowing he was about to see Kerra’s throatless corpse again.

‘Wha-what happened?’ he asked in a raspy voice full of pain.

Juliet explained everything, then waited.

‘Is … Kerra still in there?’ His eyes went from Juliet’s to the floor, briefly looking at the corpse before flicking away.

‘She is. But I’ve managed to calm her for now. I think Austin’s gone too far away to control her.’

Nick gazed about jaggedly as if he didn’t want to see any of his surroundings. Eventually he said to James, ‘Are you alright? Should we be going after Austin?’ He grimaced, pushing down on his stomach as he spoke.

The half-elf sounded as battered as Nick. ‘We were too slow. I would pursue him … but I’m too worn out after travelling here earlier.’

How did he travel here? Juliet tried to imagine a mode of transport that would leave him in such a state but also get him here so fast, considering Tamara still hadn’t shown up. Nick must have been thinking the same, because he asked it outright.

‘I told you when we were at the witch’s house …’ James moaned and squeezed his eyes shut. ‘Stronger magic takes a toll on me in this world.’

Juliet remained quiet, expecting an expansion on the answer, and Nick didn’t reply either. No expansion. Realising that was the best explanation they’d get, she turned her attention to Nick. There was a possibility that Austin would come back; it was unwise to leave his best weapon in the state she was, limp on the floor but ready to jump at the necromancer’s return. ‘Nicolas … I’ll try to release Kerra’s spirit now, if you’re ready.’

Through the pattering came noises from the bridge, not the lighter clunks of someone walking across it, but thicker sounds, indicating something heavier making its way across. Juliet went to the nearest window and spotted a purple Beetle driving towards them. Tamara’s orange hair was as clear through the windscreen as it could be on this dour day. Rain pelted her vehicle.

‘Tamara’s here.’

‘Good,’ James said instantly. ‘She can restore some of my energy.’

It took little time before Tamara hurried inside, her bright hair a wet and frizzy tangle, her olive robe dotted with rain. Sprightly, she marched straight towards them, her craggy stick of a wand already in hand. ‘Where’s Austin?’ But then she stopped and appeared to assess the situation.

‘He escaped,’ said Juliet, watching the witch’s expression shift from vigilant to a mixture of shocked, sad, and troubled.

Tamara’s gaze fixed on Kerra’s body, her eyelids narrowing her vision. ‘This poor girl … No one should die this way. No one should be defiled as she has been.’ Her words came across considerate and sincere, hinting that she was experienced at dealing with difficult situations like this. She would have to be, Juliet supposed, considering her profession. ‘I’m sorry you are going through this, Nicolas.’ Tamara reached out and touched his elbow, then turned to Juliet after a respectful pause. ‘Is her spirit at rest?’

‘Not yet. Austin forced her to attack us while he escaped, but I took away his control. I was about to let her spirit out of the body when you arrived. Or I was going to try, at least.’

Tamara nodded in a business-like manner. ‘You have learnt a lot in our sessions. Remember everything I have taught you, and you will be able to do this.’ She touched Juliet’s hand, then turned her voice to the half-elf. ‘James,’ she snapped. ‘What are you doing lying down? Get up!’ She bounced her hands about, similar to how someone would scare off a flock of birds. ‘You failed to restrain Austin. I assume he was in the van that sped past me on my way in.’

‘Yes, that would have been him.’ James pushed himself upright on the sofa. His arm shook as he did. ‘I’m weak from travelling here. You need to heal me, Tamara, else I’ll be of no help.’

Tamara gave him a shocked look that read, And you’ve been of help already, have you? but she made no such comment. ‘Come on, then,’ she stressed to James, then said to the other two, ‘I’ll tend to him in another room. That should give you the time and privacy you need.’ She smiled empathetically at Nick before shoving James towards the back of the lodge.

‘Wait,’ said Juliet, ‘where’s your weapon, James?’

He turned back, his eyebrows rising on his wan face, and pointed at the floor. Juliet looked down, but there was nothing there. ‘It’s hidden by glamour,’ he explained. He trudged towards the spot and then bent down, grabbing at nothing. But as he reached out, a short sword flickered into existence in his hand.

In awe, Juliet started thinking of magicians and illusionists she’d seen on television, wondering if any of them concealed lethal weapons in what should have been plain sight. Maybe they’re half-elves too? Or half-somethings … Then she blinked hard, tensed her hands. Quite frankly, the last thing she wanted to think about now was the possibility of other beings.

Tamara cleared her throat impatiently, and James hurried in her direction. A handle creaked, a door clicked shut.

The pressure was on. I have to get this right. What if I try, but can’t set her free? She saw the heavy sadness in Nick’s face; he was waiting but wouldn’t say anything, like he was putting it off. Juliet closed her eyes. Believe in my ability, believe in what I can do.

‘If you’re ready, I’ll do it now.’ She gave her eyes to him. Without a word, he nodded.

The wall came down. Juliet was smacked by the presence of the spirits in the jar across the room. Their awful combined anguish had been overwhelming when she first discovered them. She tried something new by attempting to block only the jar-spirits out while keeping awareness on Kerra’s. It was like balancing a scale, applying weight to each side—half blocking, half allowing.

With her guard half up, she devoted the rest of her attention to the body … the cage Kerra’s spirit was screaming to break out of. The thought that Juliet could inflict this upon a ghost herself disgusted her. Austin had managed to indefinitely trap these spirits inside inanimate objects; even though he was at a distance now, the dead were still imprisoned.

Juliet tried imagery. She pictured herself chipping away at the shell of the body, cracking its casing and punching through. She thought of herself sawing through the bars of a cell before kicking and snapping them. She imagined being inside the cocoon with Kerra’s spirit, grabbing Kerra’s hand and then smashing out and into daylight.

The spirit was gone. Confused, Juliet sent her power inside the body. It was empty. Where is she?

‘What happened?’ asked Nick. His face was slack, but his eyes searched Juliet’s face frantically.

‘She’s not in the body anymore, but I don’t know—’ There was a churn in the air behind her. And a coldness. She pivoted.

The spirit stood upright, but her head was tilted, face drooped and dulled. Unlike the body counterpart on the floor, this Kerra wasn’t missing a boot, and her multicoloured outfit was clean and fresh, as opposed to muddy and bloody. She’s a beautiful woman, thought Juliet, focusing on the ghost’s cheekbones and angular face.

‘Kerra’s here.’ Juliet put a hand in the spirit’s direction and turned back to Nick. His eyes widened. He stepped forward, inspecting what would look like an empty space to him.

‘Is she okay?’ he said weakly. ‘Is she saying anything?’ Apparently he wasn’t comfortable addressing Kerra directly.

Juliet returned her attention to the spirit, hoping Nick’s questions would be answered. The first thing the spirit said, though, was, ‘I never thought I’d suffer more in the afterlife than in life.’ Her ghostly voice was dreary. ‘When he killed me, my spirit was free for a short time. In flashes I saw events, connections, peoples, links. I saw you. I tried to go to you, Juliet, to warn you of it all … but … you pushed me away.’ Her eyes were terrible to see, fixed in place, and ripped of emotion. ‘Then it was too late … Austin summoned me and forced me back into my body.’

I pushed you away? thought Juliet. When was that?

‘You were at the witch’s home,’ said the spirit.

That was two things answered; Juliet had suspected spirits could read thoughts, and now she was certain, but also she’d figured out that Kerra was the ghost she blocked out in that session with Tamara a short while ago, when she finally took control of her power. That was you? Horrified, she remembered the flash of blood she’d glimpsed.

‘You couldn’t have known,’ said Kerra. ‘Don’t tell Nick about it. It wasn’t your fault.’ Her words were so empty, haunting; she spoke like someone on the verge of suicide. ‘Tell Nick I love him.’

Juliet twisted towards him. ‘Kerra says she loves you.’

‘Tell her’—his face screwed up, his lips shaking—‘tell her I love her …’ Then he peered towards the spirit, aiming his eyes with eerie accuracy. ‘I love you, Kerra.’

Too much emotion floated about, dazing Juliet. She didn’t know what to say or do. Kerra’s voice came to her. ‘He doesn’t,’ she said. ‘He loves me in many ways, but not the one way he thinks. He loved me that way once, but I ruined it for him. He gave me my second chance, though … and it was wonderful.’ Her tone didn’t reflect the wonder. ‘But I see now that I could never have made him happy.’

Juliet felt uncomfortable and unsure how to proceed. ‘Is there anything you want us to do for you?’

‘I … I’m tired.’ Kerra flickered, disappearing momentarily. ‘Seeing things … doorways. Windows. Dark windows.’

Not again. Why did this happen to spirits? They started talking gibberish. It was like they all shared a mental illness. ‘Kerra?’

Kerra was motionless. She stared as blankly as before. ‘My family need closure. Please make sure my body is found.’

‘We will make sure your body is found,’ Juliet promised aloud for Nick’s sake. She tried not to doubt it for a second, knowing the spirit would hear.

As if it was relevant, Kerra added, ‘Nick thought of you when I told him I loved him.’

The words hung in the air.

Juliet’s mouth dried up. She didn’t know how to feel, what to think, how to act, what to do.

‘Release the other spirits, please,’ said Kerra, and Juliet was glad the conversation had taken a different route. ‘They’ve suffered worse than I have.’

‘I’ll release them.’ She glanced over at the jar. ‘Who are they?’

‘People Austin despised.’

Nicolas and I could have ended up in there. The thought lingered in her mind, until she realised it was indecent worrying over it when someone who’d actually suffered it was in front of her. ‘Are you ready to move on?’ she asked Kerra, and looked to Nick to ensure he was up to speed.

‘Yes. You should release the others now. They’re desperate to move on. I will go with them.’

Juliet explained to Nick what she was doing before going to collect the jar, and Nick stood there teary-eyed and struggling to respond. When Juliet returned, she said, ‘Kerra’s going to move on now.’

‘Can she hear me like’—Nick’s voice faltered, but he picked it up—‘like she hears you?’

‘Yes.’

As he did before, he faced the spot where Kerra was. ‘Goodbye, Kerra. I’m sorry I wasn’t there when he …’ His tone pinched tight and nasal. ‘I … I’m sorry I couldn’t … protect you.’ Now he cried. Hearing his final words to Kerra twisted Juliet’s heart.

When she spoke herself, it came out more emotional than expected. ‘How should I release them?’ she asked Kerra and held out the jar.

‘Stop blocking them out, then smash it … and will it.’

‘That will work?’

‘Yes.’

Still raining, the patters pounded heavier and louder. Energy surged through Juliet. She dropped her mental shield completely, and for a second she allowed the suffering of all the spirits to consume her, running through the jar and up her arms and into her heart. Their faces and personalities and lives dashed across her mind in snippets. The pain too much, she closed her eyes, brought the ornament up high, then shrieked as she propelled it down and let go.

With a smash, shards flew, some pelting her legs. She opened her eyes and half expected to see the room crowded with spirits, but instead she saw glowing particles flittering in every direction. Kerra’s expression was as still as before. She began coming apart, starting with her aura and then breaking into ghostly chunks that floated outward before splitting smaller again and again and again. Her particles mixed with the other spirits’ and eventually all of them sank into the furniture, the air, the walls, the ceiling, and into Nick and Juliet.

Juliet knew Nick hadn’t witnessed any of it but she hoped he felt something, because as sad as it was, there was also serenity to it. Towards the end she heard jingling and a chorus of sighs and thank yous. Then, clearer than the other sounds, came Kerra’s voice … ‘Make him happy, won’t you?’

As the last glimmer dissolved, the rain stopped above.

There was a calmness, then Juliet found herself sobbing. She didn’t know what state Nick was in and couldn’t bear to find out. She cried like she’d never cried before, feeling exhausted for the first time in months. More emotionally than physically. After a short while she felt Nick at her side, putting an arm around her back. She curled towards him and hid her face. The second time I’ve gotten upset in front of him today, she thought bitterly, remembering how angry she’d been with herself earlier.

After becoming emotional over her gran’s cancer, she’d scolded herself with, Why did I tell him all that? He doesn’t need to know my flaws. And here she was, showing her weakness again. Is it weakness? Or am I developing empathy? Having her ability had forced her to see things and feel things she never thought she would have to. Yes, she’d gone to Tamara to block out the spirits, but the ones she had already seen had opened up new emotions for her.

Remaining in Nick’s arms, she fought to compose herself. Having empathy was good, she decided, as she realised being able to sense the suffering of all those spirits had given her the strength to release them. Sometimes, though, there was a fine line between showing empathy and allowing yourself to be taken advantage of. She didn’t want to give anyone that power over her, only to be told she was unimportant and discover she’d been used. Austin revealing that truth to her face had let her mostly cut him out, but it would be a while before she trusted anyone with her heart again.

No longer crying, she stepped away and rubbed her clothes straight. She saw Nick’s face, which was red and a little puffy. When she looked to her side, Tamara stumbled out of a room looking haggard, and James walked out tall and invigorated. It was just the thing to lighten the mood. Juliet surprised herself with a gentle laugh. ‘You know how this looks?’ she said to the witch and the half-elf.

Tamara pulled an exasperated face. ‘Oh, I see. Yes, James certainly knows how to wear me out … though his methods are not half as exciting as you would expect.’ The orange-haired witch tilted her head to give James a wink. If he could have turned green, it looked like he would have. Tamara slapped his arm playfully in apparent exhaustion. Then she turned serious. ‘Is it done?’ she asked Juliet.

‘Yes.’

The witch’s eyes moved down to the shards on the wooden floor. ‘We heard you scream, and there was a smash …’

Juliet explained about the spirits in the jar. By the end of the explanation, anger had crept into the witch’s face. ‘That man’s a true monster.’

After a silence, which seemed to agree with the witch, Nick spoke. ‘James, I can’t stand here talking while Kerra’s body is there on the floor … Will you …?’ His sentence trailed off as if he couldn’t find the wording.

‘I’ll move her.’ James stepped forward until he reached the corpse. He bent down and scooped up the body. Compared to his size, it looked small and doll-like. Juliet cringed.

When James walked over to the chest, Juliet said, ‘You can’t put her body back in there, where Austin kept her. It seems … wrong.’ She looked to Nick for his opinion.

‘Kerra’s moved on,’ he said practically, regret in his tone. ‘That body isn’t her.’

It’s his choice. Juliet nodded, then James lowered the body into the trunk and closed the lid. Afterwards, he returned to the group and sat down on one of the sofas.

Nick asked him, ‘What are we going to do now? About Austin? Shouldn’t we be looking for him?’ He sounded somewhat grim.

‘I imagine he’ll be returning to the person he works for now, or maybe heading back to his true home. We know of this place, so he’d have nowhere else to go.’

‘Okay,’ said Nick, ‘but we don’t know where either of those places are.’

‘No, we don’t,’ James agreed.

Juliet contemplated what had just happened. I should have asked Kerra if she knew where Austin had gone, but then, she probably would have started talking gibberish about windows and doors and so on. ‘I would try summoning Samantha,’ she said, ‘if it was okay with Nicolas, but she told me not to do it again.’ And I’m not sure I have the emotional stamina …

‘No. If she told you not to, then we’ll have to find another way.’ Nick offered a weary smile in acknowledgement of her attempt to help.

‘I have a suggestion.’ James raised his voice in Nick’s direction. ‘You should use your ability, Oracle.’

Juliet watched Nick’s reaction. He shifted a bit awkwardly, probably uncomfortable being referred to as Oracle. After a while, he said, ‘I’ll try.’

Juliet reached out to him. ‘You did it before, remember? When you saw your brothers go with us to Grendel Manor.’

His stance relaxed a little. ‘That was different, because it was through my eyes. I don’t see many visions that aren’t from my perspective.’ He was going down a negative road, but then he shook his head energetically, as if rattling out excuses. ‘Okay. I’ll do it. James said that with training I could see things on the other side of the world if I wanted to … I’m sure I can handle this.’

Within a short period they were all sitting down, quiet to allow Nick concentration. He shut his eyes. Watching him, Juliet compared his ability to hers, wondering how it would feel to spiritually travel to another location. Does he feel like he’s really there? Or is he aware the whole time? Can he make choices inside the visions? Or is he only the watcher? It was rare for her to dwell on such things; she realised her mind was flagging from the energy it took to release all those spirits. So I can mentally tire, at least …

She was snapped out of her thoughts when Nick’s eyes flew open. He got up without a word and paced over to a table, picking up a little book that was on top of it. Frantically, he looked on and under and around the table. ‘He took Tom’s key to my house when he escaped,’ he said fast, sliding the little book he’d picked up into his jacket pocket. ‘In the vision I just had, I saw him let himself into my house. That’s where he’s gone. Maybe it’s his last-ditch effort and he thinks he can wait there for my return, then kill me.’

‘Okay.’ James stood up, clearly about to say more, but Nick went on.

‘We have to go now. Tom might be at home. He’s been staying at his boyfriend’s house, but he might have come back while I’ve been out.’ He spoke quickly in panic. ‘I’ll call him. I won’t tell him anything, just call him, see where he is.’ His mobile was out and to his ear before anyone could object. He walked back and forth before huffing and hanging up. ‘He’s not answering.’

‘Let’s move, then,’ said James. ‘Tamara, take Juliet with you back to yours, and both of you wait for our return. Nicolas, I assume you drove here? You’ll have to drive us both to yours.’

Juliet almost spoke up, thinking she could help them somehow, or should help them. But Tamara, who was sitting next to her, put a hand on her knee. ‘I’m weak from healing James,’ said the witch. ‘I need you to watch me while I drive home.’

‘Okay,’ Juliet reluctantly agreed. Out of her mouth came, ‘What are we going to do about Kerra’s body?’ It seemed everyone else had forgotten its importance. ‘And what about this lodge?’

It was James who answered. ‘While Tamara was healing me, I made some calls. When we all spoke at Tamara’s house, Nicolas stressed how much he wanted Kerra’s body to be found and for her family to have some closure. While speaking with my kind, I came up with a solution I believe will work. There’s not time to explain it all now, but others like me are on their way here and they will clean up the lodge and then take Kerra’s body somewhere secure for now.’ He turned to Nick. ‘Don’t worry. Kerra’s body will be found, and the police will be able to close the case.’

Nick appeared momentarily shocked out of his impatient state. ‘Thank you,’ he said, sounding sincere. Soon he tensed up again. ‘We need to hurry though, please.’

Juliet got into Tamara’s Beetle with her, and watched Nick and James run off towards the bridge. Feeling mentally drained, she was unsure how much help she’d be to the witch when it came to driving. Together, though, they made their way to Willow. Juliet worried for Nick’s safety the whole time.

As Tamara parked outside her cottage, Juliet remembered the sad serenity of all those spirits moving on. So far, her ability had brought a lot of grief her way. It had also saved lives. But even so, those experiences hadn’t made her deeply realise the fact that she was so aware of now …

I can do a lot of good with my power.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

GONE. NICK STRUGGLED not to speed. His arms shook, his legs shook, and his hands were sweating, making driving a hazard. He’d tried to call Tom again while running to the car, but had no luck.

He couldn’t let Austin hurt anyone else.

‘Nicolas,’ James said in a hard voice, ‘calm your driving, or you’ll draw attention to us.’

Better than finding my brother dead at home, he almost snapped. But it was true: If he were pulled over by the police and it got back to Detective Inspector Talwar, the detective would jump on the suspicion of Nick’s behaviour.

‘I’m calm,’ he muttered, and pushed himself back in the seat. He forced down his tight shoulders, but still drove as fast as he sensibly could.

Gone.

Something made little sense to him. ‘Why are you letting me come with you?’ he asked. ‘Aren’t you supposed to be protecting me? Not taking me into danger?’

‘I can’t protect you if I don’t know where you are.’ James’s voice was deep and sulky. ‘Your vision might have been wrong, and you don’t know when what you saw took place. At Tamara’s house, you told us Austin had broken into your home before; maybe you saw that in your vision.’

I hadn’t considered that.

James continued. ‘If I had left you behind, Austin might have returned to find you.’

‘What about Tamara and Juliet, then?’ His already-fast pulse quickened. ‘Are they safe?’ Driving and talking was normally no problem for Nick, but at this point in time his focus felt like it was split a thousand ways.

Plainly unaffected, James said, ‘They’re on their way to Tamara’s now. I doubt Austin knows where that is. Anyway, Tamara knows her responsibilities and she would defend Juliet. You’re the one who needs keeping alive.’

That riled Nick. ‘My life is not any more important than Juliet’s,’ he said, then realised how specific he’d been. ‘Or more important than anyone’s.’

‘It is to my kind.’

‘I don’t care about your kind.’ The words jumped out fast … and got no response.

Having crossed Nova River, he drove almost parallel with Lynn River, heading to the south of Amiton. He hoped his mobile would ring and then he could pull over and speak to Tom and find out if he was safe, but that didn’t happen.

He heard Austin’s voice … Now I’ll have to kill you both. Austin’s burst of a laugh assaulted his mind. ‘James,’ he said harshly, ‘when Austin came into the lodge and we were hiding, why didn’t you jump out on him sooner?’

James sighed very, very slowly. ‘I wanted to see how you and Juliet handled the situation. I know you’ve had it rough so far, but you’ve both managed to survive everything. If I’m going to be watching over you, then it’s useful for me to know how resourceful you are.’

A laugh pushed itself out of Nick’s mouth, and it sickened him to notice how much like the necromancer’s burst it was. You become what you hate; he’d heard that somewhere before, and actually, throughout life, he had noticed that sometimes he mimicked the behaviours of people he disliked—if he dwelt on them too much. ‘Had a rough time?’ he threw back at James. ‘My girlfriend’s dead.’ Gone, really gone this time. ‘Do you have no empathy?’

James laughed suddenly.

‘What?’ asked Nick.

‘Nothing. It’s just funny you should say that.’ He breathed out in amusement, then his deep voice became a monotonous misery again. ‘No, Nicolas … I have very little empathy.’

‘Well, that’s a shame, because it could have come in handy back at the lodge. Did you not notice Austin’s little vulnerable moment? You could have taken advantage of that and told him you’d try to protect him from the person he works for … then he might have let you question him. Instead, I got ninja-kicked.’ He felt the hot pain across his stomach.

‘Too late now.’ James shrugged in his periphery.

Nick gave a huff-sigh. ‘You’re very glum, aren’t you? Everything I’ve been through, and I’m more pleasant towards people than you are.’

‘Nicolas …’ The half-elf’s tone became severe. ‘You don’t know me. You don’t know what my life has been like.’

On autopilot, Nick opened his mouth to respond. But he stopped. I suppose I am being a bit small-minded. Here he was, accusing James of having no empathy, when he was the one judging a half-elf on face value. He might have experienced things I can’t even imagine...

It wasn’t long before he turned a corner and ended up on Maw Street. Though it had stopped raining, the day was still a gloomy grey disappointment. Few people were out and about. Cars made their way down the street from time to time, but not too frequently, and Nick just hoped the sycamores in his front garden would hide whatever was about to unfold.

As he pulled into the drive, he scanned for Austin’s rented van and Tom’s green Mini Cooper. Neither was in sight. James hurried out of the car as soon as it was parked, beating Nick to the front door. ‘Open it,’ he commanded, ‘but I’ll go in first.’

James clearly didn’t want to use up energy opening the lock with magic. When Nick opened the door, the half-elf stalked inside and up the quiet, dim hallway. Nick followed, leaving the door ajar in case they needed to escape. He flicked on the hall light.

Although he glanced in rooms on the way, James made it to the kitchen without alerting Nick to any danger. He stopped, straightened up, and turned back with a shrug. His short sword was in hand. It amazed Nick that James could carry the weapon without it being seen. I knew I’d glimpsed a scabbard on his hip earlier. But that was something to marvel over another time.

‘Your house appears empty,’ said James, taking a deep breath.

Nick stole a moment’s relief too and inhaled.

And that’s when Austin lunged out of the snug and stabbed him in the stomach.

‘Unhh,’ he moaned, and dropped. His hands pulled in towards the pain. His head and one shoulder thudded against the laminate flooring. When he looked up, he saw a small sword swish overhead, missing its target, then a hand gripping Austin by the shirt and hurling him down the hallway.

In panic, he inspected his palms and fingers. No blood. But where’s the pain coming from? He wrenched air into his lungs, winded, and touched at his stomach under his jacket. Below his ribs, it felt bruised, but there was no open wound. Frowning, and foggily aware of Austin and James scuffling in the kitchen, he squeezed the fabric of his coat. Austin’s weapon had struck something in his pocket … My diary … Saved by my stupid Diary of Depression … He wished there was time to laugh over it, but not only was his life at risk, his stomach ached like hell from the two blows it had taken.

Lying down, he peered up the hallway. James jabbed with his short sword, missed, and was shoved by the necromancer. Sounds of banging and crashing rang out. And a definite smash. They’re wrecking my kitchen … Nick saw Austin stumble back, slashing as he did. James dodged and manoeuvred behind him. He put one arm around his throat, and brought up the other with the sword, up, up, up …

Austin whacked one of his forearms against the half-elf’s, and elbowed him with his other arm at the same time. I need to help James … It stung across his abdomen as he pushed himself to a higher position, not yet standing. The inelegance of the fight shocked him. It was nothing like in the films, where it seemed more a dance, but was instead an embarrassing scuffle of shoves and slashes, grunts and grips, holds and headbutts. He was sure he’d seen headbutts exchanged.

As pathetic as the brawl sounded, it was more visceral and gritty than anything in a movie scene. During the clumsy commotion, James had to repeatedly duck his head so as not to bang it on the open doorway leading to the kitchen or on hanging lights or low cupboards.

Nick got up. By then, Austin and James had come to face each other directly, or as directly as they could with their height difference. The half-elf stabbed his short sword in a straight line. Austin stopped it in its track, wedging the blade in the gap between the two blades of his own weapon. Whether on purpose or not, it was impressive. He twisted his wrist, throwing James’s short sword out of his hand and across the room. He smirked at his unarmed foe.

I have to do something now. Nick’s heart squeezed in on itself. A noise came from behind him. He tried to charge forward, but stalled.

Austin swiped his double-bladed knife across the half-elf’s throat.

‘No!’ barked Nick.

But he saw no blood splatter out. In fact, he saw no James. There was a buzz, like when James opened a lock with magic, only it was stronger, making the air fizzle. The half-elf literally disappeared. A millisecond later he re-materialised behind Austin and thumped him in the back of the head.

Nick blinked idiotically. That’s how he travelled so fast … That’s how he vanished when I chased him down the street … Nick turned, remembering he’d heard a noise behind him, and there stood a tall guy with blonde hair and blue eyes, wearing a navy Ralph Lauren polo shirt and sand-coloured chinos. ‘Fin?’ His best friend’s eyes were stretched open. His jaw hung stupidly.

Like Nick, he must have seen the half-elf teleport. Great.

‘Nicolas!’ shouted James, alerting him to the situation. Somehow the half-elf had ended up on the kitchen floor, most likely weak from teleporting, and now Austin set his rage on Nick. The hallway was not particularly wide; any attempt to dodge a strike would be tough. But it wasn’t a strike that took him.

It was a vision.

Austin charged. He pitched his weapon above his head. Nick saw the necromancer’s arm tense, ready to slash down, so he stepped to one side. Austin realigned course. He moved again; again he was mimicked. He saw the two blades come at him.

Nick snapped to, feeling as if he’d witnessed the necromancer’s attack in slow motion.

Austin charged. He pitched his weapon above his head. Nick saw the necromancer’s arm tense, ready to slash down, so he stepped to one side. Austin realigned course. He moved again, and when Austin mimicked him again, Nick swiftly slid back the other way and ducked under the necromancer’s arm. He pivoted, grabbed the back of Austin’s shirt and propelled him into a door frame. The thump his head made was disgusting and knocked him out cold.

After puffing out his chest and then releasing the breath, Nick sighed out, ‘Hi, Fin …’

Fin stood gobsmacked.

‘Fin?’

Steps came from behind Nick. He felt a hand push him aside then saw James lurch towards Fin and raise his short sword. He stopped with the blade’s point inches away.

‘Woah, James!’ Nick grabbed the half-elf’s other arm. ‘What are you doing?!’

‘He saw me use magic. He saw what happened here.’ James’s expression seemed uncertain. His eyelids hung wearily low. ‘I told you we were willing to guard our secrets.’

Fin spoke up for himself. ‘Hey, man, I can forget what I saw here.’ He held up his palms. ‘Actually … I didn’t see anything at all. Just walked in now.’ He’d always been a gentle soul. A lover, not a fighter, as they say.

‘He’s seen too much,’ stressed the half-elf. His hand twitched the short sword.

‘He’s my best friend.’ Nick smacked James’s weapon arm down and away. ‘You should know that; you’ve been keeping an eye on me. Anyway, he already knows I can see the future, and I trust him with everything.’ James softened his glare, then looked back and forth between the two of them. He eased up, as Nick finished with, ‘He’s never shared any of my secrets, and he’s told no one about my ability.’

James blew out his cheeks. ‘Fine.’ He moved back a step.

‘What is going on here?’ asked Fin.

I’m going to have to tell him everything. The realisation gave Nick relief. One less person to lie to. ‘Fin,’ he began, ‘can you go sit in the kitchen for now, please? It’s all to do with Kerra and my ability, but I’ll explain in a minute. We need to …’ He didn’t finish the sentence, but let his eyes drop to Austin unconscious on the floor.

Before moving, Fin communicated tacitly with Nick, the way only a close friend could. He flicked a furtive glance at the half-elf and then returned his eyes to Nick and widened them. The silent question: ‘Do you trust this guy?’

Nick nodded almost imperceptibly, and then his best friend stepped over the body and made his way to the kitchen.

My legs are shaking so much; does everybody get like this? He looked at James, who appeared more worn out than anything, and wondered how uneasy he felt in physical confrontations. ‘What are we going to do with Austin?’ He spoke low. ‘Shouldn’t you restrain him or something before he comes around?’

‘Do you have anything I can tie him with?’ he said raggedly.

‘Erm …’ Nick scurried to his room and searched it. I should have kept those handcuffs he used on me, he thought with regret, because it wasn’t like he had rope lying about his house anywhere. The best he could settle on was the cord from an old dressing gown. Luckily the fabric had stiffened over the years, and so would hopefully offer more resistance.

He returned to the hallway and passed over the cord. James knelt down, rolled over the body, and tied Austin’s wrists together. As he did, he said, ‘I’ll arrange for him to be picked up and taken away. Understand, Nicolas, that this will be the last time you see him. He’ll be questioned, and I assure you he’ll be punished for what he’s done.’

‘Do you mean executed?’ Nick hoped his best friend didn’t overhear, and he wondered what James’s kind considered fair punishment. Isn’t me giving the go-ahead the same as swinging the axe myself? One of the only things he knew for sure about himself was: I’m not a murderer, and never will be. ‘Won’t he be locked up instead?’

‘We have our own system. You should take into account that if he is working for whom I suspect he is, the person you’ve figured out is an enemy to my kind, then Austin is guilty of that crime too.’ Still kneeling, James tilted his exhausted face up to look Nick in the eyes. ‘It is my people who will judge him for that, not yours.’

Nick supposed that was reasonable. If Austin had been conspiring with a person from the Otherworld, then it should be the Otherworld’s laws that decided his punishment. It’s like visiting another country; I’d expect to be governed under and punished by their justice system while I’m there. It still didn’t feel completely right, though.

‘Do you need my help with any of this?’ Nick asked.

‘No. It’s better you stay out of the way, actually. The people coming here will be half-elves, and maybe some trusted humans. They all have a responsibility to help in situations like this, but they also have a right to privacy. They may not want to be seen by you and your friend.’

‘Okay. We’ll go to my bedroom while they’re here. What are you going to do about Austin’s van? It wasn’t in the drive, but it must be nearby. I think he rented it from somewhere local.’

James searched Austin’s pockets and took out a set of keys. He took a while to deliver an answer. ‘I’ll get someone to search the area and nearby streets. When it’s found, I’ll have them clean the van out and then leave it outside the van hire company at midnight tonight, with the keys in the ignition. Austin is most likely going by a false identity. He will have given those details to the company, and probably will have paid upfront to hire the van. I doubt they’d chase it up, if they even could.’

Impressed, Nick wondered, Maybe he’s not as useless as I thought … ‘That should work. Just make sure they really clean it out; Austin put Kerr—’ He stopped, not wanting Fin to find out this way. ‘You know what I mean. Anyway, I’ll take Fin to my bedroom now.’

As he walked away, he saw James pull out a mobile and make a call, keeping a wary eye on the motionless necromancer.

He found Fin sitting at the kitchen table. One of the chairs had been knocked over onto its back, a glass had been smashed and was in pieces near the sink, and on the worktop the kettle and some pots were … well, they weren’t where they were supposed to be. Sugar was spilt on the side, and teabags, too. Nick sighed, and that was before he spotted blood specks on the tiles. ‘Hey, Fin,’ he said awkwardly. ‘Erm … let’s go to my bedroom.’ He pointed over his shoulder at James. ‘He’s going to deal with guy on the floor while I tell you what’s going on.’

‘You sure, buddy? Do you know this dude?’ Fin was healthy and well toned, and right now his biceps gave a twitch, but he wasn’t the sort to initiate violence. He would fight to protect himself and his best friend, though; Nick knew he could rely on him for that.

‘I … I trust him,’ said Nick. ‘Come on.’

‘He’s got freaky eyes, man,’ Fin commented. Nick hadn’t thought of them as freaky; they were just a bit unsettling. ‘And he did that thing … Did you see what he did? He vanished, and then out of nothing he showed up again.’

It shocked me just as much as it shocked you. ‘I’ll explain—’

‘And who’s the dude on the floor? What’s it got to do with Kerra? Was it him who took her?’ Fin was normally easy-going, and much more pliable, but it wasn’t every day that Nick saw his best friend in circumstances like these. He reckoned Fin just wanted to feel more in control of the situation.

‘Yeah, it was him. But we really need to go to my room now.’

Fin’s gaze fell past him and, transforming into a glare, landed on the unconscious man in the hallway. He stared in resentment for a moment, then looked back to Nick. Being given some answers seemed to have reassured him a little, because he rose out of the chair and said, ‘Alright, buddy.’ He followed Nick to his bedroom.

When the door was closed and they were both sat on the bed, Nick began with, ‘I was wrong about my vision, Fin. Kerra’s … she’s … not alive.’

The shock softened Fin’s face. ‘What?’ he said, almost a whisper. ‘She’s dead?’ His eyes kept moving and fixing on different things, though they gave the impression he was not seeing anything at all. Nick watched him as tears filled his eyes. He lifted his head suddenly. ‘I am so, so sorry, man.’ His voice crumbled at the end. Nick saw him wince as he leaned forward and hugged him. Accepting the embrace, Nick managed to hold himself together. I’ve cried enough, and I’m sure I’ll cry again when it’s all over. But not now. Fin mumbled in his ear, ‘I’m here for you, buddy.’

While they consoled each other, sounds came from the hallway: low talking, James’s sullen voice, a few bumps and thumps. Panic entered Nick, as if injected straight into his heart. He hoped like hell all this commotion wouldn’t draw attention. What if someone dropped by? Would James silence them like it appeared he was about to do to Fin? I’m lucky the police haven’t seen anything …

When the moment was over, Fin moved back and deftly rubbed his eyes dry. He asked, ‘What happened to her?’

‘I don’t think I’ll have time to explain it all now. But that man I knocked out in the hallway—Austin is his name—he’s the one who killed her. And he would have killed me too.’

‘Why?’ Fin looked angry.

‘It’s really complicated, and I don’t really know the full story myself.’

Nick’s mobile vibrated, making the two of them jolt. He checked it and found a text from Tom:

Hey, I’m out with Michael at the moment. You called me? Is everything alright?

Nick explained to Fin how he’d tried to call his brother, fearing he was at home and in danger. Then he replied to the text:

Yeah. Everything’s fine. Just checking up on you. Let me know when you’re coming back home.

Soon after, his phone buzzed with a simple: ‘OK.’

‘Can’t you tell me any of it?’ Fin urged.

Nick tried to get it straight in his head first. He took a breath. ‘As simply as I can put it, it’s to do with my ability. Austin works for a person who wants me dead because he thinks I’m an oracle. James, the guy who put the sword in your face out there, also thinks I’m an oracle, but he’s trying to keep me alive because the people he works for are enemies with the person who wants me dead.’

‘An oracle?’ Fin’s brow burrowed. For a few seconds he said nothing else, clearly processing the information he’d received. ‘Are you being serious, man?’

Nick shrugged emphatically. ‘I feel the same way, Fin.’

Knock, knock. When he opened the door, James’s face greeted him. The half-elf appeared less worn out than before, but still in no great shape. ‘He’s been taken away, Nicolas. We should head back to the other two.’

The other two; I haven’t even told Fin about Juliet or Tamara … or about witches, elves, ghosts, and the rest. ‘Okay. Let me speak to Fin quickly; I’ll be a minute.’ He closed the door without waiting for a response.

‘I’ve got to go with James somewhere … just to sort this mess out. But can I ask you to do me a massive favour?’

‘Anything, buddy.’

‘Can you tidy up my kitchen, please? I’m not sure how long I’ll be gone for, so I don’t know if I’ll have time before Tom comes home.’

‘Alright. One condition, though.’

‘What’s that?’

‘You’re my best buddy; I understand why you’ve been keeping this stuff secret … not everyone would believe it … but I’m not everyone. When you get back, you gotta tell me everything, man.’

‘I will,’ said Nick, and he really meant it. ‘Thank you, Fin.’

Within minutes, Nick was back in his car for what felt like the millionth time today. James sat in the passenger seat, silent and gloomy. ‘James,’ Nick sounded as bad-tempered as the half-elf looked. ‘I need to know something before we go.’

With a bored expression, James lifted his eyebrows. ‘What?’

‘Would you have killed Fin?’

The half-elf’s face remained the same, but his eyes measured Nick. ‘No,’ he answered after a frustrating silence. ‘That would have complicated things. I just wanted your friend to know how serious the matter is. And like I told you, my kind are secretive.’

You’re a dick. Nick bit his tongue. ‘I can’t wait for this day to be over,’ he muttered, then drove towards the only hamlet on the island.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

WAITING WAS AWFUL. Juliet sat where she always did in her sessions with Tamara, but at this moment they barely communicated. The witch had expelled a mini rant about how much money she was losing today, cancelling on clients again, but then she plonked herself down in her usual chair and huffed in exhaustion.

Juliet hadn’t expected this chance alone with Tamara so soon. Since last they saw each other, her mind had considered things to confront the witch about. Now, though, she was entirely unprepared. She’d been annoyed to discover Tamara lied about there not being ways to the Otherworld, because Tamara knew how much she wanted her soul back and had hidden the truth anyway.

But … I have more control now, and my ability has helped me out more than once.

Tamara’s head hung back, eyelids hovering open. She broke the awkward quiet with, ‘You are unhappy with me, Juliet.’

‘Yes.’ Juliet tried to sound reasonable. ‘But you were right the other day … I was being a hypocrite; I’ve had to lie to people I care about, but I believe my reasons are justified.’ Thinking of Kim and Ryan, she rephrased, ‘Or justified enough.’

‘And I hid things from you for reasons I believe valid.’

‘I understand. I do.’ Juliet’s face was tense, and she wasn’t sure why. ‘You don’t need to explain yourself.’

‘I should, though.’ With visible effort, Tamara rocked her head forward. ‘The Otherworld is dangerous, but I have a responsibility to protect it, as my ancestors did. I did not like telling you there was no way there, no way to get your soul back.’ Her proud face creased under a frown. ‘Seeing your distress saddened me deeply.’

Knowing Tamara hadn’t lied easily assuaged some of Juliet’s annoyance, maybe because she knew how difficult deceiving a loved one was. I shouldn’t empathise with myself for telling hard lies; the consequences might be even harder to take, and could affect other people too …

‘And the sad truth is,’ Tamara went on, ‘I have no knowledge of what a soul looks like. I know that souls travel to the Otherworld when a human dies, and that they remain there until taking on another life, but even that I know only from talk and legend. I have never heard of any being actually locating a soul.’ She sounded regretful. ‘Not all of the Otherworld is even charted, I’m afraid; there could be a Sea of Souls for all I know.’ She gave a hum in amusement.

Juliet smiled softly to show she appreciated the explanation. So I might never get my soul back. But she was sick of fighting it. Until all this drama was over and the dangers were gone, it would be best to remain soulless. Her ability might come in handy again, and for some spirits it could mean the difference between an eternity of suffering and the freedom of moving on.

‘I am very fond of you, Juliet,’ said Tamara. A sadness entered her eyes. She pushed her hands low down under her elbows, as if hugging her hips. ‘You remind me of someone I cared for very much, someone who is no longer with us, neither physically nor spiritually.’

Her sister? Juliet remembered the witch speaking of her sister the first time she visited here, saying she’d passed away roughly ten years ago. The more Juliet dwelt on it, the more she thought she recalled something … maybe a story in the media. I would have been fifteen then, maybe sixteen. The death of Tamara’s sister would at least have made the local news.

Juliet felt strangely honoured to be a reminder of someone the witch loved. She took it in and said, ‘There’s a lot I admire about you.’

Tamara chuckled lightly. ‘You don’t have to say something back for the sake of it. How can you admire me after I spied on you in our appointments and reported your doings back to James?’

That was a good question, Juliet realised, but it was time for one liar to stop feeling bitter over another liar’s deceit. ‘I’m not just saying it. I mean it.’ And she did; she admired Tamara’s confidence and knowledge, her frankness, her stamina to endure the stresses that must come part and parcel with her line of work, and she also appreciated that even though Tamara acted strict most of the time, she could show compassion when it mattered. That was something Juliet struggled with, especially under stress, and wanted to improve in herself.

The witch sighed and put her head back again. ‘If those two hurry, then I won’t have to cancel on all my clients this afternoon.’ Her eyelids slid shut, and then her breathing became loud and slow.

Afternoon? It had been midmorning when Nick arrived at Juliet’s house today. She took out her mobile and had to switch it on, having turned it off to ignore Tamara’s calls earlier. The witch hadn’t left any voicemail or texts, so there was no nuisance of deleting anything, but a new text did show up. From Kim.

Juliet had completely forgotten her best friend flew back today. The message, sent two hours ago, informed her that Kim was about to board the plane and would call her later this evening when she was back home. The flight would take roughly four hours, and then she’d have to travel from the mainland across to Lansin Island. Late evening, figured Juliet.

Her thoughts moved at a painful speed, sluggishly slithering across her headache. Releasing the spirits had left her as mentally drained as Tamara looked physically drained. She peered up from her mobile and found the witch fast asleep.

I’ll rest my mind. She closed her eyes and reclined in the couch. Make him happy, won’t you? the spirit’s voice plodded through her head. What is it with spirits giving me advice on my love life? Rowena Howard had done the same, and Samantha Crystan had also told her not to be so hard on Nicolas … Nicolas … She imagined him fighting with Austin, pushing blades away from his face and throat. Her mind squirmed in discomfort …

‘Juliet,’ a voice stirred her, and a hand shook her. ‘You fell asleep,’ said Tamara. Behind her stood Nick and James. Nick appeared lightly amused, and rather calm for some reason. James looked like hell.

‘What’s happening?’ She pushed herself up quickly.

‘Austin’s been taken away for questioning,’ said Nick.

‘By the police?’ Her heart skipped.

‘No. James’s’—he turned to the half-elf, apparently unsure how to word it—‘friends took him away. Friends? Should I call them your friends?’ he asked James, who shrugged back.

Juliet sighed, and a warm wave of relief washed over her. ‘We’re safe now, then?’

‘Yes,’ answered James. ‘You should be, at least. We know Austin wasn’t too bothered about killing you, so I assume the person he’s working for isn’t interested either. But for Nicolas to be safe, Austin must be questioned.’

‘Sure. And that’s what’s going to happen, right?’ She received a mopey nod from James. ‘So, what will we do now?’

James took a few steps back to address Juliet and Nick together. ‘When I spoke with my kind, they gave me more clearance. They agreed that you two are in deep enough, that you should both be … I’m not sure how to put it … brought into the fold; that would be one way of putting it. You’ll both have responsibilities like Tamara and I do, the main one being to keep secret the existence of the Otherworld.’

‘Okay.’ That should be easy enough, as Juliet hadn’t planned on blabbing about elves and witches and other realms anyway. ‘You seem like you have more to say.’

‘I do. But I think it will be better if I show you both instead.’ He gave Tamara a conspiratorial look.

The witch began to ask, ‘You’re going to show them—’

‘Yes. But you can stay behind, Tamara.’

It surprised Juliet how authoritatively he sometimes spoke to Tamara, but then, she didn’t know the dynamics of their relationship. Was he actually her superior, like the witch had joked before?

‘Good,’ Tamara declared. ‘I’ve lost enough money this week thanks to you lot.’ She pulled a stern face at the two men, then gave a wink to Juliet. ‘Come on, be on your way.’

You’ve got your energy back, thought Juliet, as Tamara got her up and then shoehorned all three of them into the cottage’s excuse for an entry hall.

On the way out, James asked Nick if he’d drive them, and before long they were all in the black Vauxhall Corsa, Juliet in the back. She gazed up at the willow tree as they passed it and left the hamlet.

‘It’s not far at all,’ said James. ‘Just west of here. I’ll direct you.’

They made their way. The day was windy now, so blustery it felt like the car was being pushed to the wrong side of the road. Juliet was not a fan of bad weather. Generally, she didn’t waste her energy complaining over such things, things that couldn’t be changed, but she knew if she owned the skies there would seldom be a cloud in daytime—and rain would come quiet and gentle at night, when no one had to suffer it.

On the way to wherever they were headed, she listened to Nick asking James questions.

‘I just thought,’ he said, as if something blatant had jumped through the window and slapped him on the cheek, ‘you don’t sound Irish. I thought you said your dad lives in Ireland? Did you grow up there?’

‘Yes, I lived there ...’ said James, humdrum. ‘At least for most of growing up. And, erm, about the accent, do I sound Irish now?’ He said the last part in a strong Irish accent, though Juliet was unsure of the dialect. Listening to people do impressions made her cringe, even if they were good, and James’s was. She hadn’t noticed before, but the half-elf usually spoke like most of the islanders.

Nick quickly turned to James, then back to the road. ‘Is that how you normally talk?’ His tone was softened by disbelief, raised in astonishment.

‘When I’m back home, yes. But elsewhere I adapt to the most common accent around me. You might even notice that when I speak to Juliet, I pronounce words more correctly than when talking to you … That’s because she speaks much posher than you do.’

Do I? ‘Does she?’ Nick echoed her thought, then laughed. He didn’t seem offended. ‘Is the Otherworld not your home, James?’

‘Not quite,’ he said, deep and darkly.

‘Oh.’ Nick paused a while. ‘Do you know any other languages, or is it just accents you do?’ He slowed his driving, approaching a junction. Farmland and fields were in most directions.

‘This way.’ James pointed up a particular rural route. ‘Half-elves and full-blooded elves are all taught human languages, main ones, like the way you have business languages, but then also region-specific ones.’

‘What do you mean?’

James exaggerated a sigh—really exaggerated it. ‘I didn’t realise I’d be giving a class today,’ he complained. Once he’d had his whine, he answered, ‘Think of the Otherworld as a kind of parallel universe that lines up with this one. Only, our geography has formed differently from yours, so where there is ocean on your side there may be land in the Otherworld, and vice versa. But still, a fair amount of your countries line up with known land on the other side, with places inhabited by elves and our allies. So, for example, if an elf were to grow up in the part of the Otherworld that matches up with Germany on this side, then German would be a compulsory language.’

Noisily, Nick threw out breath. ‘And do you actually remember all these languages?’

James laughed. It sounded forced. Juliet didn’t know why, but she got a real party-pooper vibe from the half-elf. She heard him say, ‘When you hear our native language, you will understand why tongues are so easy for us.’

A block was reached in Juliet’s mind. She knew the barrier was there; she’d put it up herself, especially for conversations like this. All this talk of the Otherworld and elves was too much. The idea that there was another world she wouldn’t know how to successfully function in nauseated her. And another race too; a race that sounded possibly more intelligent than humans. I don’t know of many people fluent in more than three or four languages.

‘You have only one native language?’ asked Nick. Juliet was unsure how he’d come to that conclusion.

‘Yes,’ said James. ‘Just one.’

The drive took a few minutes and left them in a gritted parking lane near the cliff edge, provided as a stop for locals to appreciate the sea view. When they got out, Juliet regretted not bringing a coat. Her arms prickled into goose skin. The temperature had been mild earlier, but this biting wind made all the difference.

‘It’s down this way.’ James led them along the edge, following a parapet. A minute or so later he stopped. He peered out across the Celtic Sea. Miles ahead would be the North Atlantic Ocean. The half-elf pointed. ‘Look out there. You see that.’

Juliet spotted a dark shape jutting from the choppy water.

‘It’s called Kern Islet,’ James told them. ‘That’s where we’re going.’

Confused, Juliet said, ‘It looks unoccupied to me.’

‘That’s how it’s supposed to look.’

‘An illusion?’ asked Nick, from behind Juliet’s shoulder.

James didn’t answer, but instead he jumped the low barrier and took steps towards the drop. The sight of him approaching gave Juliet vertigo. ‘What are you doing?’

‘Showing you the way.’

I’m not climbing down a cliff face, she thought, seeing no other path down. And then what? Does he want us to swim across? She watched the half-elf. He moved so close to the end that a misstep could have him fall. But he twisted and walked sideways, down and behind the cliff edge. Lower and lower. It was like watching someone go down a staircase, with a wall blocking part of the view. A secret pathway … When James’s head bobbed out of sight, Juliet squinted. From here there was only the straight verge, and a sheer drop.

Nick hmmmed before enthusiastically vaulting the barrier. He slowed and took cautious steps to the edge. ‘Oh, wow,’ he said. ‘That’s so weird. It’s a really simple path down.’ He moved back, swayed his head and upper body side to side. ‘But you can’t see it from this angle.’

‘Is it another illusion?’ asked Juliet, frustrated by the thought.

‘I think so. But not magic. It’s just the rocks playing a trick on our eyes.’ He shrugged. ‘Come take a look.’

Before doing so, she glanced back across fields and farmland and roads. No one in sight. She climbed over the parapet and approached the drop. When she was close enough, she saw what Nick meant. It was just a naturally well-hidden path.

‘Ready to go down the rabbit hole?’ Nick quipped, extending a hand to her—not to hold, but as a ‘ladies first’ gesture. He’s struggling now, she realised; his little joke hadn’t sounded that warm, but rather for the sake of it, a distraction to keep him going.

Juliet made the descent. The cliff wasn’t so high, and the path not too treacherous. The wind frightened her once, grabbing and throwing her, but luckily she fell to the higher side of the gradient. Grit and pain met her palms. At the bottom, she found a pebbled cove with a wooden pier stretching some metres out into the waves. Docked and gently bobbing alongside it was a dayboat, with James already aboard.

Juliet and Nick joined him. The boat was commodious enough, the front sheltered for the captain, and the back open with seating. ‘Are you okay to operate this?’ asked Juliet. From where she sat, she saw the back of James’s head and the side of his gaunt face.

‘I have some energy,’ he said without turning back. Soon there was a chuttering sound that smoothed into a steady hum. ‘I shut my eyes and rested in Nicolas’s car when he drove us back to Tamara’s.’

Intermittently, the wind swooshed and threw back Juliet’s hair, like an attention-seeking child making her presence known. She wanted to go stand by the half-elf in the sheltered area, but felt uncomfortable at the idea of it.

With the sploshes and splashes of the water, the churn of the boat engine, and the howling of air, it grew louder. Nick began asking James questions again, and they both had to shout to be heard. James’s deep voice lost clarity in the conditions.

‘Do full-blooded elves have long shiny hair and big pointy ears?’ Nick yelled. ‘Are they tall with flawless skin and glittery eyes?’

James twisted back and glared at him, then set eyes ahead again. ‘No. Most keep their hair short. Long hair’s an inconvenience in our habitat.’

Juliet laughed unexpectedly. ‘Habitat?’ she said loudly, though the surrounding noises made it distant, like a voice in a tin can. ‘That makes you sound like frogs. Do you mean environment? Terrain? Homeland? Something more along those lines?’ Her mind itched to block it all out.

James practically ignored her, muttering what might have been, ‘You two are going to drive me insane,’ but it was too quiet to be clear. Then, shouting again, he continued to answer Nick’s questions. ‘Yes. Full-blooded elves do have pointed ears. You can see that mine are more pointed than a human’s.’

I don’t think they’re as pointy as you believe they are. Juliet remembered the little episode at Tamara’s house.

The half-elf yelled on. ‘And if you ever see a full-blooded elf, you will find that their eyes are magnificent in colour, like the orange in mine, which was passed down from my mother. I was lucky, some tell me.’ His tone showed his grievance with that theory; he huffed to amplify it. ‘Most half-elves have bland human eyes. But lucky me, the elf side in me is strong.’

‘Is that not a good thing?’ asked Nick.

‘What? To almost be something, but not quite?’ he said indignantly, letting a pause deliver impact. ‘It wouldn’t be so bad if I were more human looking, but like this I’m a pariah to my full-blooded kind, and then among humans I’m just odd-looking.’ There was a lot of bitterness in his words, and Juliet began to understand his glum attitude.

‘But … you said you can cast an illusion,’ said Nick. ‘You can phase out among humans so we can barely notice you.’

Good one, Nicolas, offer avoidance as a solution to his problem …

James was quiet for a time, and then as if he hadn’t listened at all, he said, ‘What? Oh … it doesn’t matter.’ He slammed shut the doors on that topic. ‘You asked more questions. Erm, yes … You may have noticed my height; I was apparently lucky there too, as most half-elves are not so tall. My full-blooded kind average a little taller than this.’ He pointed at the tip of his head, but didn’t look back.

Nick’s face scrunched up sceptically. ‘They sound like giants.’

‘They are not giants,’ said the half-elf plainly. The boat moved faster. It must have hit a wave because there was a sploosh, instantly followed by a wet slap, and then water sprayed Juliet’s face. The saltiness somehow made its way into her mouth. She wiped a hand across her skin to dry it.

The water hitting her face had the expected effects. She felt suddenly alert and lucid. And her clear and logical thoughts got to work doing their thing: questioning all this stuff about the Otherworld and other beings. Maybe it’s all a big prank. She considered that, for his own sad entertainment, sullen James might be seeing how long he could have them believe he was a half-elf. I wouldn’t put it past him.

Soon, though, she realised: This is my denial at work. She couldn’t stay ignorant of it all forever, as much as she’d like to, but alongside that admission she knew gaining knowledge of these things wasn’t her priority. With Austin detained, she wished to turn her attention to her gran’s wellbeing, reconciling with her parents, and returning to a productive day-to-day routine.

‘So,’ Nick shouted, ‘if you don’t call yourselves elves, what do you call yourselves?’

James huffed, seemed to deliberate answering, but then twisted around to them. He made a sound that was like nothing Juliet had ever heard before.

Nick, picking up his jaw, said, ‘Sorry … Run that by me again, would you?’

‘No.’ James turned back to the wheel. ‘Just stop asking questions now. Each answer will birth more questions, and I don’t have the patience to listen to you and answer all day long. We’re almost here now anyway.’

‘Oh.’ Nick tilted his head forward and brought his hand up to cover his eyes, the thumb on one temple, and his fingers stretching across to the other.

‘Are you okay?’ called Juliet.

He shook his head cautiously. ‘I’m getting a bit motion sick.’

Juliet could sympathise there; it was a horrible ride. She looked in the direction they travelled, grabbing the cold railing and pushing herself up for a better view. The islet jutted higher out of sea than it looked to have from a distance. Still, the rock appeared uninhabited.

Why is he taking us here? The dark, slick rock became larger until they were in its shadow. They approached a dock, and on the other side of it was another boat. A large tarp-covered dinghy. Juliet peered about. She spotted a stone stairway, meandering through the rock and up the islet.

A man came down the steps. He was dressed for the weather and had a short beard, white skin, and a forgettable face. He gave no eye contact and said nothing. All he did was come down and help James dock the boat. ‘Thanks, Gerry,’ said James, his voice strong and deep. The bearded man completely ignored him and disappeared back up the stairway.

When Juliet and Nick disembarked, James caught their attention and nodded towards the dinghy. ‘You’re both lucky we didn’t have to take that across.’

Juliet imagined the three of them attempting to row it. She made no reply, but felt grateful the motorboat had been docked their side.

‘Follow me.’ The half-elf led the way, and Nick followed close behind.

The steps were uneven and wet, but Juliet’s flat black pumps had good grip and got her up safely. Prudently, she’d selected the simple and reliable shoes this morning, in case she needed to escape danger. You won’t catch me running through woodland in wedge boots again.

As she reached the top, she noticed a familiar sound … an emollient hum. They ended up at the highest point of the islet, a wide, flat area. Roughly twenty metres away was a shed, and two people stood out in front of it as if stationed there. Next to it was an ugly blue portaloo. Behind both was a metal rectangular container, which must have been a portable office.

Juliet blinked hard, validating what she saw. When she’d looked from atop the cliff, there had been nothing on this islet. Even from a distance these structures would have stood out as silhouettes. But, knowing the answer she would get from James, she didn’t even ask how it was possible she hadn’t seen them.

The half-elf took them straight up to the shed, where Juliet discovered it was two women out in front. They were both as tall as her, had short, dark wavy hair, and shared some facial features with each other: a ski-slope nose, pale grey eyes, and freckles. Both were dressed like Indie Kids, kind of boyish, wearing vintage jumpers up top, and jeans and battered Converse below. One of them appeared a few years older and had more meat on her, while the other had a harder face but a lazy right eyelid.

‘This is Sara Waters.’ James held a hand towards the older-looking, plumper woman. ‘And this is Seline Waters.’ He swung his hand around to the one with the drooping eyelid. ‘They’re sisters, and both of them half-elf, like me.’

Without hesitation Juliet’s eyes flicked to the sides of their heads, inspecting each in turn. Both women had some pointedness to their ears, more so than James, but it was still subtle enough to be inconspicuous. Juliet wondered if so blatantly inspecting their features was rude. Peculiarly, Sara and Seline bowed. James rolled his eyes, sank his shoulders, and dropped his head to one side impatiently.

‘Hello. I’m Juliet.’ Don’t give out your last name, she remembered.

‘And I’m Nicolas … or Nick,’ he said sheepishly.

Standing straight again, Sara and Seline each gave a cursory glance to Juliet, flicking a look down and back up her. And that was as far as their interest in her went. Their eyes glued to Nick in fascination. Sara began to ask, ‘Is he—’

‘Yes,’ said James. ‘He’s the main reason we’ve been stationed here, the oracle I’ve been ordered to protect.’

Their eyes widened in sync. ‘Cooooool,’ they both said, one of them a fraction behind the other, turning the sound into: ‘Coocooolool.’

‘He’s cute,’ added Sara, shamelessly checking him out.

Then Seline said to James, ‘Try not to sound too cheery about it, Rea.’ She pronounced his surname like the ria in Maria, as if to mock him. James’s expression shifted to bad-tempered.

Seline’s older-looking sister added, ‘Yeah, Reee-ah. I bet your duty’s more exciting than standing here all day long and having to piss in the TARDIS.’ She pulled a sour face at the portaloo.

Uncomfortable, Juliet stiffened up at the unladylike behaviour. She hated hearing a woman swear. The worst she ever said was dammit, and she had to be pretty annoyed to utter that. The things I’ve seen today, and foul language still makes me bristle. When she looked at Nick, she saw an odd expression on his face, like he was assessing his own worth; it must have been weird for him to realise these strangers already knew who he was. Juliet heard Coocooolool echo in her mind, and for some reason, it irritated her.

Why are they so impressed by him? She scanned Nick as if she were missing something. He was attractive, she couldn’t deny that, but his looks hardly warranted instant adoration.

‘Anyway,’ James said moodily, ‘I’m showing them what’s inside.’

Sara gave him a severe look. ‘You need to learn to take a joke, James.’

He ignored her.

After a protracted sigh, she said, ‘Go on then, Your Majesty.’ She and her sister both gestured elaborately towards the shed door, as if permitting entrance to royalty. ‘Would you like me to carry you inside?’ Sara mocked further. ‘Ah, and do let me know if you visit the TARDIS any time soon; I’ll be sure to come and wipe your arse for you.’

Nick laughed shyly, but Juliet made no response. They might as well have hidden her with magic, she felt that invisible.

Without retaliation, James threw open the shed door and sulked inside. As she followed, Juliet got a chance to inspect the little shack up close. Vines had crept through the wooden panels, and leaves and flower heads also poked through, as if bursting out. I know what’s inside. The humming was louder than when she’d noticed it on their approach. It had a calming effect.

In she went, following Nick. James closed the door behind them. The portal was set up the same as the one on Aldrich’s land had been: ancient-looking steps leading below ground level, a luminous pool at the bottom. The floor of the shed had been taken out, exposing the rocky ground of the islet, but roots and weeds and flowers had spread out from the top edges of the portal’s staircase, and the verdure had crawled over everything and up the walls, even clinging to the ceiling.

How does it all grow in here without sunlight? She felt the sense of wonder she’d experienced in Aldrich’s woods. She stole a glance at Nick’s face. The only lighting in the shed came from the glowing pool, and it waved shadows across Nick’s skin and put stars in his eyes.

When Juliet focused on the hum of the portal, it drained away every concern she’d ever thought she had. It lulled her into a state where time was irrelevant. She had no idea how much time had passed before Nick said, ‘Why are these plants here? When the portal we saw before exploded, all the trees and flowers withered and decayed. But before that, those plants had all been overflowing like these ones.’

James said, ‘It happens on this side with every portal we construct. Some believe it’s magic from the Otherworld, leaking through, and that all this greenery is the way it manifests itself. On the other side the portal doesn’t have this effect, but that could be because magic is an intrinsic element of the Otherworld, already present in everything.’

Juliet wanted to fight against it all, struggle in disbelief, but here was a portal … and it hummed to her so sweetly. How could she not believe in magic pouring through from another world, so potent it defied nature?

Apparently, Nick was incredulous over something else. ‘You built this?’

‘I didn’t myself,’ James clarified, ‘but yes. Setting up a portal takes a coordinated effort, with magic-wielders on either side. And, as you’ve witnessed, the use of strong magic on this side has its toll.’ He half smiled, wanly, and the shifting light gave his innocent expression a menacing quality.

‘James,’ Nick said in a careful voice. ‘When I spoke with Aldrich, he told me he used to send children through his portal as sacrifices to Moloch. It was the reason my mum ended up at his manor. Aldrich lured her to his home, wanting to use her to send my brothers through the portal. They would only have been ten years old. Aldrich liked to make the parents send their own children through, and then he would wipe their memories. But, like me, my mum was immune to Aldrich’s ability. That’s why he killed her.’

The portal still soothed Juliet, but something in her recognised the weight of this conversation. She remembered what Nick had told her about the missing children. They’d been on her mind since. Although she admired Nick for wanting to find these people, she doubted any of them were still alive.

Nick said to the half-elf, ‘Your enemy, the person posing as Moloch, told me the children were better off on that side. What would have happened to them? Are they really better off?’

‘Our enemy would have traded them for intel,’ said James. ‘I know that sounds terrible, but those children won’t have been harmed by those he traded with. I’m afraid they’re out of your reach now, and mine. I can’t really tell you more than that.’

In a raised voice, Nick said, ‘But I swore to myself I’d find out what happened to them.’

‘And you have. They will have been cared for.’ James shrugged, his eyebrows going up, too. ‘There’s nothing we can do about it now.’

It became tense in the shed, snapping Juliet out of her narcotic state … for a short while. Then the humming filled her head again, moved through her body, massaged her senses.

‘Fine,’ said Nick in resignation. ‘Why are you showing us this anyway? Can we go through?’

‘No. There’s no need for either of you to enter the Otherworld.’

There may be one day, when I want my soul back. With a start, Juliet remembered something. ‘Are there people on the other side of this? Can they hear our thoughts?’

James squinted at her suspiciously. ‘There may be people through there, but you shouldn’t be directing your thoughts through anyway.’ His face became serious. ‘Come on. Let’s go back outside. There are matters we need to discuss.’ He opened the shed door with a creak. Natural light flooded in, but it was unimpressive compared to the portal’s rays.

It took a strange effort for Juliet to pull herself away, but seeing Nick exit gave her the nudge she needed. Sara and Seline eyed the ‘oracle’ on his way past. They completely ignored Juliet, unsurprisingly, and in turn, James blanked the two of them.

Squawks came from above. Juliet arched her neck and saw seagulls circling the islet, thrown about by the wind. James overtook Nick and her, and then led them some metres away from the shed. He stopped and turned to face them, looking forlorn by himself with the backdrop of the sea.

Juliet’s sense of self returned as she walked farther away, and when she came to a halt, she gave her attention to James. Such a downtrodden vibe emanated from him that she realised she pitied him. He doesn’t belong anywhere, or with anyone …

Her sympathy would do him no good right now. She said, ‘You didn’t answer Nicolas’s question in there. Why did you show us the portal?’ The wind ceased, leaving quiescence, and the temperature became mild again.

James began to explain. ‘Since our intel informed us about you two and the portal that was destroyed, the one you saw explode, my kind moved in on the corresponding area in the Otherworld. We were looking for the person we suspect wants Nicolas dead, but had no luck finding him.’ He spoke monotonously, making no attempt to embellish his tone. ‘Before all of this, the only connection my kind had with Lansin Island was through Tamara, but, like her ancestors, she can reach the Otherworld through guided meditation. It makes no difference where she is. Anyway, we had no portal on the island. So when my kind decided Nicolas needed finding and protecting, we set up this portal. Kern Islet is in a convenient location.’ He gazed about himself. ‘Like Lansin Island, it’s not in a particularly useful or strategic place, so boats rarely pass close by. And if any do, that’s why we have half-elves like Sara and Seline stationed here, maintaining the illusion of an empty rock in the sea.’

Juliet wondered where Gerry, the mute and bearded man, had gone. Was he a half-elf too? Or human? Or something else … She glanced back over her shoulder and decided he must be in the portable office … or maybe he’d been in the portaloo this whole time. ‘You still haven’t answered the question,’ she said.

‘I’m getting to it.’ James’s hair had been completely dishevelled by the wind, but with this respite, the ashen curls rested on his head. ‘I showed you two the portal because I was given clearance to tell you something. You both need to understand the magnitude of this situation …’ To Nick, and then to Juliet, he gave an uncompromising look. ‘The reason the Otherworld is guarded so strictly, why most humans don’t know of its existence, is because full-blooded beings of the Otherworld, like elves, can’t pass through to this side. They are magic beings, and require magic to live. If they tried to pass through, they would quickly weaken and die. The person I suspect was on the other side of Aldrich’s portal is a pure being of the Otherworld, which is why he couldn’t pass through and tried to lure Nicolas instead. The only reason I can survive here is because of the human side in me.’

After letting it all pass her mental block and assimilate, Juliet was still confused. Why is their not being able to pass through such an issue? ‘Okay … but no one is trying to force your kind through here, are they?’ She looked at Nick and saw his eyebrows had pulled inward.

The half-elf said, ‘No. That’s not the problem. The problem is that humans can pass through to the Otherworld.’

Still, nothing clicked in her mind. She waited for further explanation.

James huffed. ‘It means humans have the advantage. If your kind decided to wage war with the Otherworld and managed to seize control of some portals, you could send troops through, but then your troops would be able to retreat to this world during battles, or whenever they wanted. Even if your kind decided to devastate the Otherworld, they would still have this one to return to. And for my full-blooded kind, the only army we’d have on this side would be hybrids, cross-breeds like me, and there are just too few of us to make a difference.’

Juliet recognised the Otherworld’s concerns, but needed to ask, ‘Why would humans discovering the Otherworld lead to war?’

Again, James puffed out his breath. ‘Do you think your kind would let us coexist? That they wouldn’t want our land and resources? Even if humans didn’t fight as one, which I doubt you would anyway, you would separately claim land across the Otherworld and then fight each other on that side. The deaths of my kind and other beings of the Otherworld would just be casualties of your war. And whoever wins will subjugate those who survive the carnage.’

For a moment, Juliet was lost in thought. She understood James’s theory. Most countries would want at least some claim over the Otherworld, and whether they only wanted the corresponding land or the entire world, there would still be conflict—and the Otherworld would suffer more than anything else.

Nick said, ‘I don’t know if this is an awkward question … but, erm, if you’re all so secretive about the Otherworld, then how did hybrids like you end up coming about?’

Although it wasn’t the most urgent matter, Juliet wanted to know the answer too.

James was clearly on the fence of whether to explain or not. He blinked slowly, and began. ‘The existence of the Otherworld didn’t used to be so secret, hundreds of years ago. A lot of human folklore and mythology came from those days, when our interaction with this side was more common. But as your civilisations advanced, we saw the danger and drew away from your world. Over the years, your tales have distorted. You have all kinds of strange myths, some of them absolutely ridiculous.’

Says the half-elf. ‘James,’ Juliet interrupted, ‘you’re answering everything but the question again …’

‘That’s because I’m giving you all the elements you need to understand the answer first. You just have no patience,’ he scolded. Speaking of patience, Juliet normally had none for anyone who talked to her so bluntly, but this was James’s domain, and she respected that.

The half-elf continued. ‘So, as I was saying, the Otherworld has agreements with select humans in power, but these humans normally have links to the Otherworld already. This could be for a variety of reasons. Some families have a long history with my kind, some humans discover the Otherworld’s existence by mistake—it does happen—and find a way through, some humans are actually more than human—like witches, for example—and these separate groups may have formed allegiances with the Otherworld.’ He stopped for a breath, then shrugged. ‘Any of these reasons and more could result in a human ending up on the other side … and having offspring with a being of the Otherworld.’

After a pause, Nick asked, ‘So you’re not going to tell us how your parents hooked up, then?’ He made it sound friendly and inclusive, rather than mocking.

James seemed about to answer, but pulled a hard frown instead. It suited his gaunt face. ‘This isn’t relevant right now. I’ve told you both what you need to know regarding the Otherworld.’ He crossed his lanky arms. ‘Do the two of you understand how important it is to keep these secrets?’

There was only one safe answer to give, Juliet gathered. ‘Yes.’

Nick echoed her.

‘Good. Then we can move on to the next issue.’ James peered past the two of them and shouted, ‘Sara. Seline. Get the package. If you need help, get Gerry or one of the others to lend a hand.’

Juliet swung around to see what was happening. If Sara and Seline were really guarding the portal, then wouldn’t they have weapons like James did? She squinted. Maybe one of them had a crossbow in her hand, and the other an axe hanging at her side, but Juliet couldn’t see through the illusion. The thought gave her a chill.

Sara said something to her younger sister and pointed towards the portable office. Then she made her way inside the shed while Seline went towards the metal container. A scraping sound made Juliet twist back to her company, where she found Nick gazing up at the seagulls with consternation. Slightly concerned, she wondered, Does he really think those birds are stalking him?

‘Okay,’ James began. ‘What they are about to bring out of there will probably make the two of you uncomfortable, so just be warned. It’s nothing dangerous, but you need to keep an open mind.’

The shed door banged open behind. Juliet looked back. Together, Sara, Seline, and Gerry were carrying a man, the sisters at the legs and the bearded mute at the end. An odd sensation ran over Juliet, making her aware of every inch of her skin. Is he dead?

They brought the man over and placed him down on the rocks. He had olive skin, dark hair and stubble, and his clothes were ragged. Juliet watched closely to see if he was breathing; she saw a steady rise and sink of his belly. His eyes were shut, though, and his face slack.

‘Who is he?’ Nick beat Juliet to the question.

As the sisters and Gerry walked off, James said, ‘He is the solution to the Kerra problem.’

‘What do you mean, the
Kerra problem?’ Nick sounded less than friendly.

‘I told you … I’ve found a solution for Kerra’s body being found, and for the police to close the case. Like you asked of me, Nicolas.’ It was obvious he thought Nick should be more grateful. But how could he expect anyone to have a predictable reaction to an unconscious man being plonked in front of them?

Nick gestured impatiently towards the man. ‘Explain how he’s the solution.’

Squawk! Squawk! Seagulls cried above, but James paid them no mind. ‘His name is Jean-Sébastien Laurent, and in France, he is a wanted murderer.’

The words took the scene, fading everything out, and even silencing the raucous birds. Unnerved, Juliet shifted. She instinctively made distance between herself and the unconscious man.

‘Erm …’ she heard Nick say, ‘if he’s a wanted murderer in France, why do you have him?’

‘Because my kind found him before the French authorities did. Essentially, he’s wanted for murdering and raping a woman. But what the French authorities don’t know is that he killed a second woman: a half-elf. Jean-Sébastien wouldn’t have known what she was, but of course that doesn’t excuse what he did. My kind wanted him punished, and so when they located him, they took him through the nearest portal, one we have established in Haute-Savoie, France. He’s been in the Otherworld since, where he has faced some punishment.’

Juliet now stared at the man in horror. What punishment had he endured? On this side he would end up in jail for a long time, but she didn’t get the feeling the elves dealt with their criminals the same way.

‘Should he not be locked up?’ she asked. She felt so conflicted. On one side of the argument she understood the Otherworld’s desire to take the punishment into their own hands, and on the other, she felt awful for the family of the pure human victim. Don’t they deserve to see this man judged on this side?

‘He was going to be executed,’ said James frankly, ‘but when I spoke with my kind about a solution to the Kerra predicament, one of them suggested a better use for him. The location we held him in on the other side wasn’t too far away, but since Thursday evening, when the plan was made, he was transported on the other side to this portal. And voilà!’ He threw out both arms.

Juliet wasn’t sure if voilà was James’s attempt at wry humour, but whatever the case, she found little to appreciate in it. She was left stumped.

Nick said, ‘So are you going to frame him for Kerra’s murder? Is that what you’re getting at?’

‘Yes.’

‘Won’t he just tell the police everything that’s happened to him?’

‘No,’ James said confidently. ‘The punishment he faced on our side ... Let’s just say his mind has been left in a delicate state. He barely speaks, and when he does, the only words he ever mutters are Je tue les femmes.’

‘What does that mean?’

‘I kill women.’

Juliet’s skin prickled. Quickly (and quietly), she said, ‘Are we safe near him? He’s not going to wake up, is he?’

The half-elf laughed in his miserable way. ‘Trust me, he won’t even stir. But anyway, it should be believable that he could have killed Kerra; he can perform physical tasks easily enough, and, sparing you the details, he murdered the human woman in a similar fashion. You shouldn’t feel sorry for this man; he’s a vile thing. In his damaged state, though, when you try to communicate with him, it’s like nobody’s home … and then occasionally he’ll go into a silent, destructive rage. If the police witness that, it should work in our favour too.’

No one should have to deal with a situation like this. Juliet’s mind began closing doors. I’ve done my part. I set Kerra free. Austin is detained. What happens here is up to Nicolas … but that wasn’t true. Before Kerra had moved on, she asked Juliet to make sure her body was found. Even though Nick already had it in mind, it still became Juliet’s responsibility when she made the promise.

In a timid voice, Nick said, ‘I know this man has killed other women, but ... he’s not guilty of killing Kerra. I … I don’t know. This doesn’t seem right for some reason …’

James scoffed. ‘You two are hopeless. You ask too many questions and you have too much sympathy for murderers. Just look at it this way: Your authorities don’t know about the half-elf he murdered; my kind had to deal with that. But when your police realise who he is, he’ll be sentenced for killing two women … and he has killed two women. Not to mention what else he did to them.’

Juliet’s pity for James went fast out the window (or at least off the islet and into the sea). She grew sick of him talking down to her. Maybe the Otherworld was a more brutal place, so this kind of thing was easy for him, but for her it was far from the everyday occurrence. Is it the best we can hope for, though?

‘What about Kerra’s body?’ asked Nick, serious in tone. ‘It hasn’t … decomposed. Because of that charmed item Austin used.’

‘Once we remove the item, her body will begin to decompose. I don’t think you want to know all the details, but we’ll try our best to make the level of decomposition as believable as it can be. The police will just have to speculate how long after her abduction she survived.’

Nick had gone pale. The wind picked up again quite suddenly. Juliet looked up and saw the seagulls disperse and go off and away.

Nick’s voice came out weak. ‘So what do we do now?’

‘You two don’t need to do anything.’ James’s chest puffed up and then fell back down. ‘Austin will be taken through the portal and questioned soon, if he hasn’t already been taken through, and we will sort out the issue of Kerra’s body. Nicolas, at some point over the next few days, Kerra’s body will be discovered, so I expect the police will be in touch with you. And Juliet, you just need to go back to your life. When everything has blown over and we’ve got more information out of Austin, I’ll be in contact with you both.’

‘But doesn’t someone still want me dead?’ asked Nick.

‘Apparently. But Austin was their man, and we’ve stopped him. You should be safe for now.’

Juliet thought that was a big assumption to make, but didn’t say anything.

Nick said, ‘Are you not going to tell us who Austin was working for?’

‘Not at the moment. Because I’m not one hundred percent certain yet myself. Everything adds up to one particular person, but until Austin confirms it, I won’t believe it.’ Looking pensive, he added, ‘I don’t want to believe it.’

The way he said it made Juliet feel like someone had punched through her chest and given her heart a squeeze. Do we really want to know who this enemy is?

After nobody spoke for a while, James said, ‘Right, then. Let’s get you off this rock.’

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

IT WAS AN awkward moment. Nick was sitting in his car, parked outside Juliet’s house and trying to find a way to say goodbye—for now—after everything that had happened. There had already been uncomfortable instances on the drive here.

After James dropped them back to the little cove, he left them and returned to the islet. Nick and Juliet made their way back to the Vauxhall Corsa and headed for Chanton.

At first they had discussed James’s solution to the ‘Kerra problem,’ telling each other their concerns over it and expressing how it was all so messed up. But soon the conversation died, because, Nick reckoned, they both knew they had little choice in any of it.

The most awkward part of the journey was when Juliet made a comment about the half-elves, Sara and Seline. She asked Nick, ‘What do you think of your fangirls?’

It turned him warm with embarrassment. The question came so out of the blue that he figured the two women had been playing on Juliet’s mind. The way she asked made her sound almost jealous. He shook his head, though. That’s ridiculous.

‘Fangirls?’ He played ignorant, fully aware the two women had gawked at him. ‘What are you on about?’

‘Sara and Seline,’ Juliet said stoically.

‘What about them?’

Juliet seemed to reassess the conversation. ‘Never mind.’

The rest of the drive had lacked words, but was packed with silence. And now here they were. The car was still, so Nick wondered why Juliet hadn’t moved to open the door already.

‘Nicolas,’ she said, ‘are we planning on staying in touch?’ She kept it neutral, alluding to no preference. But Nick thought he knew the answer she wanted.

Should I do the same? Act indifferent? He almost didn’t care at this moment. Not after the loss he’d suffered. But whether they admitted it or not, a future possibility of romance hung in the air between them—and that was the real question.

‘Do you want to keep in touch?’ He put the ball in her court.

She served it back. ‘I think until James gets back to us it’s probably best to stay connected, don’t you?’

Nick thought of the future: what he wanted from it, expected from it, where he’d go from here, how long it’d take to move on from Kerra, how long before he could date again. The thoughts frustrated him. Having never had a strong sense of direction, he had no idea where he’d be in a few months’ time … or even one week’s.

So he went with his heart and gut. Something inside him said, I think when we’ve both recovered from everything, I’d like to go on that date we were meant to go on.

‘Yeah,’ he agreed with Juliet. ‘It probably is best.’

She got out, and he watched her enter her home before driving away.

It was late afternoon when he arrived at sixteen Maw Street. He let himself inside and found Fin waiting in a tidy kitchen, sipping a cup of tea and staring blankly at a wall.

‘Are you alright, Fin?’

Fin turned his head at a ponderous pace. ‘Oh … I’m fine, buddy. I’m just concentrating real hard, trying to make myself vanish and then show up in New York. Or maybe I fancy somewhere sunny instead, like Malta. What do you think, man?’ He raised his fair eyebrows, then half smiled.

I have a lot of explaining to do, thought Nick wearily, but he managed a short laugh. ‘Come on; let’s go to the snug … I’ll tell you everything.’

It took hours. So long, in fact, that Nick felt guiltier and guiltier as he realised how much he’d hidden from his best friend. He had waited for this moment, though, and eventually Fin knew as much as he did about everything and everyone. He finished by reminding Fin about the mysterious man who wanted him dead.

Fin had a lot of questions, especially about things that had affected him too, like the murder of Nick’s mother, and throughout it all, Nick answered what he could. But many of Fin’s questions were ones he had himself.

He knew James had told him to keep the Otherworld’s vulnerability a secret, but he made up his own mind here. He trusted Fin. By the end of it, his best friend seemed as worn out as he was, and Fin hadn’t been through half the things Nick had today.

‘You know, buddy,’ Fin sighed out, sinking back into the sofa, ‘it took me a while to really believe you about the psychic thing, but you managed to prove it to me. I thought, Okay, so some people have extra senses that other people don’t, or something like that. But, man. You’ve flipped everything upside down … Whenever I talk to anyone now, you know I’m gonna be looking at their ears, right?’

The conversation went on like this for a while, and Nick allowed his friend the time he needed to move past disbelief. Starving, he got up for food and made something for the two of them. It got late in the evening, so he checked up on Tom, who told him he was staying at Michael’s again.

After they finished eating, Fin said, ‘Don’t you think you should tell your family all of this?’

‘No.’ Nick pushed his lips to one side regretfully. ‘I want to. They deserve to know it all; like, if Mum’s ghost had somehow contacted one of them, then I would want to know. But, I don’t know … Juliet never said my mum wanted them to know or anything. And you saw what James was like when you witnessed him teleport. I shouldn’t have even told you all of this.’ He was pretty sure he didn’t need to make it explicit, but for rest of mind he said, ‘I know it’s selfish of me to expect this, but I need you to keep everything I’ve told you between just you and me.’

Fin nodded seriously. ‘Of course, buddy.’

‘Thank you. The next few weeks might be rough, with the framing of Kerra’s murder and everything, so we’ll just have to face it together and act like we don’t know a thing.’

Fin nodded again.

It felt like the air cleared. We’ve discussed everything we can. Anything more would only be speculation and talking in circles.

After a silence, Fin said, ‘Nick. You really need a security password on your Wi-Fi, buddy.’

Having not seen the comment coming, Nick laughed the most genuinely he had since before Kerra was taken. His amusement got Fin chuckling too. He felt a strange peacefulness, knowing that after a day like this, such a simple thing could spark pleasant emotions. Even in difficult times there was joy to be found.

‘I know I do!’ he forced out, when his laughter died down. To get it out of the way, he loaded up the computer, got onto the router configuration page, and set up a security key.

That night, Fin offered to stay over, which Nick was grateful for. He doubted he’d sleep with ease, so having his best friend there would at least pass the restless hours.

They spent the remainder of the evening in the snug. Nick set himself up with a duvet and pillows on the sofa, then prepared bedding for Fin on the floor. Although they’d already discussed everything important, the two of them continued to chat away long into the night.

Upon waking in the morning, Nick couldn’t remember when sleep had taken him. The first thing he noticed was an ache across his stomach from where he’d been kicked and stabbed. He got up, wincing, and peered down to see Fin’s face pressed against a cushion, his cheek bunched up unattractively. A loud snore escaped him. Nick left him to have a longer lie-in, quietly getting up and going to the bathroom.

Afterwards, he checked his mobile, social networks, and the news. All he thought about while he washed was when and how he’d hear of Kerra’s body being found. Then, as he ate breakfast, he wondered if one of her family members would have to identify her corpse … in whatever state the half-elves might leave it in to make the decay believable. His food roiled in his belly.

That body’s not her, he had to remind himself. It’s not Kerra … Kerra has moved on. He wished more than anything that wherever she had passed on to, she’d be happy.

Just to be doing something, he slowly prepared food for Fin and woke him. But not long after eating, Fin said he had to head off, because his family had planned to spend time together today. He asked Nick to keep him updated, to reach out if he needed help, and he also said he’d come by in the evening if Nick wanted.

By late morning, Nick was alone. It was Sunday, and he didn’t normally work weekends, which would have been an ideal distraction. He found himself with little to do.

As the hours went on, he began to think about Tom having been away all week. Nick had let so many little things about his brother moving in irritate him, and it all seemed so petty now. I miss him being about the house.

When it reached late afternoon, he decided on something. He got his diary out of the jacket he’d worn yesterday, wanting to burn the damn thing. The only fireplace was in the living room, though, which Tom used as a bedroom. Torching the journal in there might leave a smell. But Nick didn’t want to just lob it in the bin, because it was full of personal information.

He did the only thing he could think of: He took it to the bathroom.

Without reading any of it, he ripped the pages out, tore each into tiny pieces, then soaked it all in the sink, smudging the words and tearing it all up some more. When he was confident there was no sense to be made of the text, he flushed the soggy paper down the toilet. Afterwards, he threw the empty sleeve in the bin.

Even though the diary had saved him from Austin’s weird weapon, it was time to move on from everything that had been written inside of it. He felt good watching those recorded memories swirl and disappear under the water.

He got on with his day. And maybe it was grief affecting him, but he ended up in a sentimental mood, thinking how lucky he was to have his family, his job, his colleagues, and a friend like Fin. Cheesy sayings like, ‘You don’t know what you’ve got till it’s gone’ kept coming to him, unbidden, as if they were forcing him to keep strong and think positive.

In the evening, he needed that strength, when Detective Inspector Talwar called.

The discovery of Kerra’s body hit the news the next morning. The official story was that an anonymous caller had tipped off the police about strange noises and a foul smell coming from an unoccupied council flat in Etherby. The detective inspector himself, with a couple of officers, went to the flat to investigate.

Not only did they find Kerra’s body, but also Jean-Sébastien Laurent.

Apparently their arrival had roused the French man from sleep, and he instantly became violent and had to be restrained. Over the following days, everything began to come together. The police figured out that the man was wanted for murder in France, and that he must have found a way to Lansin Island, where he’d been squatting in the council building since.

A few times, Nick pondered how the half-elves were so inconspicuous setting up the whole scene. Wouldn’t cameras in Etherby have caught them somewhere? Weren’t the other council houses on the street occupied? Someone must have seen or heard something … But then, he supposed the half-elves could have used their magic to some extent. Whatever they had done, he was just glad it worked.

With all the coverage on the news, Mora had heard about Kerra’s body by the morning after Nick received the phone call, and like she had done before, she offered him some leave. He accepted this time, and it was good he did; it turned out to be a busy week.

The date for Kerra’s funeral was set sooner than Nick had expected: the Friday following the discovery of her body. Kerra’s family contacted him, inviting him over to have some input on the arrangements. David Evans didn’t apologise for accosting Nick in Creaky Crystals, but he seemed to make an effort to be courteous.

It was decided that everyone would wear bright colours to the service, the way Kerra had always dressed. Nick liked that idea, and he actually remembered Kerra once telling him that she would want a colourful funeral. Before he left the Evanses’ home, he discussed other matters with them. Some items that had belonged to Kerra were still at his house, mainly clothing, and Mrs Evans wanted the majority of it back. She was really considerate, though, and told him he could pick an item or two for his own keepsakes. He chose to hold on to a bright pink hoody he’d bought Kerra for Christmas.

Nick mostly stayed indoors leading up to Friday, comforted by Fin and Tom and his dad. Pretty much everyone dropped by at some point to visit him, apart from Tommy again, who passed on his condolences through their father. And when the funeral came around, Tommy didn’t even make an appearance, yet the rest of Nick’s family did. That really hurt Nick; whether Tommy had been fond of Kerra or not, she at least deserved that respect from him.

Janet Morgan and her husband attended the funeral, and when Janet saw the Evanses treating Nick politely, she smiled to him. With some relief, he thought, Things will go back to normal now. During the service, Kerra’s eldest sister, Rose, sang “My Immortal” by Evanescence, a song and band Kerra had loved. The performance brought everyone to tears.

A lot of the day was awkward. Many people avoided Nick as if he were fragile, but by now he was quite used to people treating him that way. He imagined it was a lot worse for Kerra’s family.

The funeral ended with the cremation, and then the groups went their separate ways.

The Evanses hardly contacted him after that day. The one connection he’d had with them was Kerra, so he doubted he’d see much of them in the future. They’re a big family. I just hope they’ll be okay, that Kerra’s death will bring them closer together …

The following Monday, he returned to work. During the shift, Janet approached and apologised for the way she’d been treating him. ‘It’s fine,’ he tried to tell her, but she continued to say she was sorry. He hadn’t felt that bitter about it when she’d actually been ignoring him, but he experienced some annoyance now, listening to her beg for forgiveness. She could have just defied David Evans and spoken to me, but she made a choice not to. He didn’t point this out to her, but instead put his focus on how glad he was to at least be talking to her again.

He soon fell back into the rhythm of work and life.

The days began to pass. He heard nothing from James or Tamara, and even though he and Juliet had agreed to keep in touch, neither contacted the other.

There were developments in the case of Kerra’s murder, but Nick only understood the gist of the proceedings. He had thought the French authorities would want Jean-Sébastien to face sentence in their country, but everything took place in England. It soon arose that Jean-Sébastien might be unfit to plead, which a psychiatric evaluation later deemed so. Still, the evidence against him was presented and the jury determined him guilty of the acts. After that, the judge made the order for the murderer’s supervision and treatment at a high-security psychiatric hospital, where Jean-Sébastien would remain until seen fit to stand trial.

Hopefully never, was Nick’s regretful but honest wish. He wasn’t sure if the hospital’s treatment would do the murderer any good; even if they managed to get Jean-Sébastien to talk, he would speak of another world and other beings. Not quite ideal for proving his sanity.

A few times when the story was shown in the media, footage of a news interview with Detective Inspector Talwar was aired. Anish Talwar somehow made it sound like he had done all the work in cracking the case. The way he painted it, he had singlehandedly restrained Jean-Sébastien in the council flat when the murderer had resisted. Nick couldn’t imagine the other officers just sitting about, twiddling their thumbs, but oh well. At least Talwar’s career is looking up.

There were a few instances when reporters showed up at Nick’s house, like one had done while Kerra had still been missing, but he simply ignored them until they stopped hounding him altogether. The media had milked enough out of the tragedy.

In the back of his mind, he worried about someone still wanting him dead. Some nights it was hard to sleep, not just because of fear, but because grief occasionally took him, as he had expected it would. A couple of times, he drove up the road to James’s house and considered knocking to see if the half-elf was in, to get an update on everything. But he decided against it.

As more days passed, he had an idea to cheer himself up with a lads’ night in. He invited Fin, Tom, Tommy, Michael, and even Alex Campbell. Tommy didn’t reply to his text, let alone come, but Alex did both. Since that day Nick had punched his old friend, he’d thought a lot about it, deciding his behaviour was out of order, a stupid, delayed reaction to what had happened years ago, triggered by his delicate state. At this little gathering, he apologised, and Alex was pleasant enough to make Nick glad he’d invited him.

Now, today, nearly a month since the police had located Kerra’s body and arrested Jean-Sébastien, Nick sat at his kitchen table with a mug of hot chocolate warm in his hands. It was the 3rd of June, meaning the Queen’s Diamond Jubilee was two days away, and that a couple weeks later would be Litha, the summer solstice. Amiton would lose its current decorations, all the bunting and the royal colours everywhere, and celebrate the power of the sun—with loads of flowers and fruits and candles and colours and garlands, and a whole lot more of the Green Man.

Before summer solstice, though, would be Tom’s and Tommy’s nineteenth birthday. Considering Tommy’s attitude, Nick was growing apprehensive about it. The twins ordinarily threw a joint party, so how were they going to celebrate this year?

Nick had explained to Tom the real reasons Tommy was annoyed, but all Tom said back was, ‘Well, I feel like it’s Tommy’s problem if he doesn’t trust you, Nick. I understand him being annoyed that I told you about my sexuality first, but I’ve recently started to wonder, is it my fault that I felt I couldn’t tell him about it, but that I could tell you? I’m not sure … And I don’t feel I should apologise to him for all of this imagined deceit either. Maybe I need more time; I still feel annoyed about it all.’

Of course, this had made Nick feel guilty, but he wasn’t sure how to avoid the lies without telling his brothers absolutely everything—which he knew James would disapprove of.

Today, he shrugged to himself, sighed, and decided to worry about their birthday when it drew nearer.

He started thinking about the last time he had woken from one of the blood nightmares, the night he’d gone to the kitchen to have a hot chocolate and gather his mind.

Back then, he’d been optimistic for the future, glad to know the truth about his mother’s past, and happy to finally have a stable job and relationship. But before that, he had searched for some kind of purpose. The sudden emergence of his ability had somewhat satisfied that yearning, but then he had shied away from it to have the normal lifestyle most people seemed to be living.

But do I want that? Did I mistake a full-time job and a steady relationship for meaning? He thought about the blood nightmares, how they had been a warning that he might have understood with better control of his power. He remembered Sara and Seline, the way they had looked at him as if he were important. Then he mulled over the fact that there was an entire world he knew barely anything about, a world he was connected to, maybe a lot more deeply than he had first suspected …

After taking a sip of his sweet, hot drink, a little smile came to his mouth. He felt that old craving for meaning again, only now it was stronger than ever before.

With a buzz that startled him, Juliet’s name flashed on the screen of his mobile. He answered.

‘Nicolas?’

‘Yeah?’

‘Tamara rang me last night; James wants to speak to us both.’

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

‘HAVE YOU SEEN this sad, sad news, sweetheart?’ Lillian asked her granddaughter, pointing to the television screen in front of her hospital bed. ‘The young woman who was abducted a couple of weeks ago, her body was found in Etherby … They think a madman might have killed her.’

They would be right, thought Juliet, except they have the wrong madman. ‘I saw the reports yesterday, Gran. I feel sorry for her family.’ That was true, and the only thing that comforted her was knowing Kerra had moved on.

‘So,’ said Lillian, bringing her attention away from the screen, ‘are they coming, then?’

Juliet took a breath. ‘Mum and Dad will be here soon.’

‘Juliet,’ Lillian said seriously, ‘I will speak with my daughter, like I have promised you, and I will be as civil as I can. You need to understand, though, that it might not go as well as you hope.’

‘I can’t accept that. It’s not as if I expect you two to suddenly get along, but quite simply, I won’t let you remain hostile with each other.’ She slowly crossed her arms, bunching up her shoulders a little. ‘I don’t like treating people like this; it’s your decision who you want to get along with. But I’m the one in the middle of it all. What am I supposed to do when you’re well enough to come home, but my parents want to visit again?’

Lillian compressed her lips in thought, then answered in time. ‘Let’s just see how it goes.’

She’s as stubborn as me, I’m as stubborn as Mum, and Mum’s as stubborn as her. ‘I’ll go wait for them out there.’ Juliet nodded to one side. ‘I need to talk to Mum myself when they both get here, and then I’ll send her to you afterwards.’ That way, she might get a chance to talk to her father in private, without her mother’s domineering presence keeping him in check.

‘Alright, sweetheart.’

Out in the hallway, she waited and took in her surroundings. Because her gran’s recovery was taking longer than it should have, making Lillian feel awful for using the general hospital’s resources, Juliet had her transferred to this private healthcare centre, Brynne Hospital, where she’d been put on a hip replacement recovery program and was now staying in the rehabilitation unit. The colours were a lot warmer here than the icy blues and whites of the previous ward.

It was two days ago when Nicolas had dropped Juliet home, after their trip to Kern Islet. The first thing Juliet had done was head straight out to visit her gran. Afterwards, she had nipped to a home store to buy the materials needed to fix the hole Austin had left in her wall. She patched it over that night, but needed to wait for the compound to dry before sanding it down and painting, which she did the next day.

‘Hello, sweetie!’ Evelyn Maystone turned a corner suddenly, her voice startling Juliet back to the present moment. Behind her, Adam followed. Juliet had spoken with her mother briefly on the phone earlier, updating her on Lillian’s transfer, and confirming that she still planned to visit.

Evelyn started to ramble. ‘I am sooo glad you had your grandmother transferred here. I could not bear to visit that grimy general hospital. I’m surprised you both came out of there alive!’ She tittered in her false manner, then quickly added, ‘Oh, sweetie, I didn’t get a chance to tell you before, when we visited The Haaayven, because … well, you know … But anyway, I swear you have become more gorgeous than you already were.’

Juliet knew exactly what her mother was doing. I see where I get it from … ‘Mum, you can’t avoid this. You’ve agreed to tell me everything, and then you’re going to speak with Gran.’

Mrs Maystone came to a halt, her taut smile failing. ‘Yes, Juliet, I know why I’m here.’ Evelyn may have been visiting the only private hospital on the island, an expensive place for healthcare, but even so, her outfit was ostentatious for the occasion. Adam Maystone was also dressed so fancily that Juliet was sure her mother had picked his clothing.

Juliet led her parents to a lounge area in an alcove of the wide hallway. She sat down on a sofa and gestured for her parents to do the same. Her mother remained standing, but her father plonked himself down across from her, which earned him a sour look from his wife. Not wanting to cause a scene over something so small, Juliet let her mother’s behaviour slide. She carefully laid out everything as she knew it, stating her knowledge about the surrogate, clarifying what lies she’d been told and when, and so on. Finally, she said to her mother, ‘So do I know everything now?’

‘Yes, sweetie, you do.’

Juliet sank back into the sofa, releasing tension along with a breath. ‘You should go speak with Gran, then.’ She felt a little strange talking to her mother this way, practically giving orders, but she reckoned she deserved some leeway. She quickly filled her parents in on Lillian’s condition, revealing that before the transfer, the doctor had confirmed the spread of Lillian’s cancer. She also mentioned Lillian’s premature decision to refuse treatment, and at that, Evelyn’s eyes shifted.

For a moment, Evelyn stayed quiet. She held her head high, the way she always did, but began to chew her bottom lip. And whether she realised it or not, she was rubbing the back of one hand with the fingers of the other.

‘Gran’s through there,’ Juliet urged, pointing. She sensed her mother’s vulnerability, but got the impression that if she tried to reassure her, her mother would be too proud to accept the gesture. All she could think to say was, ‘She knows you’re coming.’

Evelyn seemed to bristle. ‘I should hope so,’ she said haughtily, though it lacked her usual commitment. She puffed up her chest. ‘You two just wait right here, then. I’ll be back shortly.’ She flicked her head in the intended direction and clicked away.

Juliet peered at Adam and saw a small, contrite smile on her father’s face. His coloured hair was neatly combed, and his orangey-brown tan blended with the surrounding warm colours in a way that made him look silly. ‘Come sit with me,’ he said, and tapped the sofa cushion.

Seeing his guilt caused a sad spark in Juliet’s chest. She got up and joined him, resting her head on his shoulder and wrapping her arms around one of his. She still wasn’t okay with her parents or her gran. Even with everything out in the open now, she couldn’t understand why they told such selfish lies.

‘Why did you both lie to me?’ she asked softly. From where she was, she could see her mother and gran, but could not hear them. They appeared to be conversing, reluctantly.

‘Your mother told you Lillian had died without discussing it with me.’ Adam Maystone had a gentle voice, pleasantly soporific. ‘This was after the big argument you know about. Your mother had already given Lillian the boot, but she had agreed with me that we would find a way to tell you the truth, together.’

‘Which you never did.’

‘One of the things about your mother is, sometimes she’ll get an idea in her head, she’ll concoct a plan without telling anyone, and then before you know it, she springs it upon you.’

Juliet wondered if she was missing something. ‘Okay … but that doesn’t make it right.’ With a bit more thought, she realised how she had done the same thing, surreptitiously texting Tamara on the day she and Nicolas went to Eleanor Lodge Park. I kept that plan to myself because Nicolas wouldn’t have understood. If we had done it his way, we’d probably be dead.

‘Have you ever seen your mother cry?’ Adam surprised his daughter with the digression.

‘I don’t think so.’

‘Well, I have,’ he said simply, and it seemed somehow profound. ‘Your mother is a beautiful and complicated woman. Nobody knows her like I do. We have argued before, especially the first few years of being together, and when I tell you your mother can hold a grudge, I really mean it.’ He laughed gently. ‘But then the more I got to know her, the less we fought. I know what it looks like to others, that I’m just a pushover … but I’m not. I made my own decision many years ago that I would always stand by my wife. Not because she always makes the right choices, but because I know what’s in her heart.’

Juliet was so conflicted. She used to look up to her mother, a strong woman who didn’t need anybody else, and in some ways she still wanted to admire her … but now there was bitterness and confusion and the sting of treachery. Or was she judging too harshly? Was she failing to see this apparent good side to her mother?

‘Did you not argue when Mum told me the lie?’

‘Yes. More fiercely than ever. Your mother ignored me for an entire month afterwards, but you wouldn’t have realised that at the time. Whenever your mother used to fall out with me, she would ignore me in private, but in front of anybody else she would act as if we couldn’t be happier with each other.’ He chuckled, making Juliet’s head bounce on his shoulder. ‘Got to keep up appearances …’

Maybe Mum regrets the lie, Juliet considered, realising her mother would be too proud to apologise after so many years. I’ve made rash decisions in tense moments, without discussing my thoughts or intentions with anyone else …

Adam went on. ‘You know we’ve been staying at the Herlit these past couple of weeks? We’ve barely actually left the hotel. Your mother kept saying she wanted to make use of the facilities, and she did, but she repeatedly checked her mobile throughout each day. She wouldn’t admit it, but she thought you’d give in. We hardly unpacked our suitcases, to tell you the truth, because she was so sure you’d call or text and invite us to stay at yours.’

After a small huff, Juliet tried to imagine her mother religiously checking her phone, day after day. ‘I didn’t plan on contacting either of you. I only did because of Gran’s health.’

‘I know.’ Adam chuckled some more. ‘I’ve never seen you speak to your mother the way you did during that argument at yours.’

‘Were you angry at me?’

‘No …’

‘But?’

‘But I think you judged the situation too hastily. As you’ve found out for yourself, Lillian is not perfect. I don’t particularly have anything against her, but whether your gran will admit it or not, she’s not so different from your mother. She raised her daughter to be a proud woman, and I’d say that pride is the reason your mother never accepted Lillian as a substitute for the father she lost … or for her biological mother, who she never had the chance to meet.’

Juliet felt close to tears for a reason she couldn’t identify. When she was quiet for a while, her father sighed, then said reflectively, ‘Grief can be as malignant as cancer, recurring after years of absence. Don’t ever tell your mother I shared this with you, but she still cries many nights over the loss of her father, a lot more often than I think she should, and you know he died before you were born …’

Juliet mulled that over.

‘She will only cry in front of me,’ Adam added. ‘No one else.’

So she does need other people. Then Juliet amended that thought: Not other people, just Dad. ‘Well, maybe she should let more people in …’ Her voice turned weak. ‘You don’t need to be the only person she opens up to.’

Adam shrugged, as if he’d forgotten Juliet’s head rested on his shoulder. He laughed in his balmy tone again. ‘I think you’re right. And who knows? Maybe you standing up to her, and Lillian being back, won’t give her much choice but to change.’ He lifted a hand to point. ‘Look.’

Juliet tried to get comfortable on her father’s shoulder again, and she felt his head lull against the top of hers. She focused ahead. Even from this distance, she could see her gran’s eyes were teary. Then, most unexpectedly, Evelyn placed a hand on the back of Lillian’s, and Juliet saw her mother’s face crumple up, smiling, and …

‘Crying,’ said Juliet. ‘She’s crying.’

‘Oh …’ Adam sounded genuinely shocked.

For a time they were silent, simply watching. Then Juliet said, ‘Thanks for telling me all of this, Dad.’

‘You deserved to know. I’m just sorry it took so long, and for all the lies.’

Juliet inspected the sleeve on her father’s arm, the one she’d wrapped hers around. ‘Mum dresses you up like a doll, you realise?’

Adam chuckled. ‘I know. But it makes her happy.’

‘Eeeeeeeeeee!’ Juliet answered the front door to her best friend’s squeal the next day, and by the time she did, Ryan Fraser had already driven off without a hello. Kim held a handbag, along with another bag that was stuffed full. She hugged Juliet to the extent she could with her arms full.

Juliet moved back and said, ‘Wow, look at your tan!’

Kim’s skin was almost as dark as her hair now, which was a bob cut that framed her pretty face. And with her large and alluring eyes, also dark, she looked worthy of playing Cleopatra in a Hollywood film. ‘I know, it’s fading already; it was darker than this!’ She pulled a silly sad face, then hurried inside.

They went to the upstairs living room to sit down and chat. The room had a table ideal for the activity Kim had in mind today. ‘Before I unpack all this stuff,’ Kim began, ‘I need to tell you my big secret.’

Juliet had been dreading this. The day Nick dropped her back, after she visited her gran and then patched up the hole in the wall, she’d received a call from Kim. Her best friend rang to say she’d made it home safely and also to arrange this meet-up. During their conversation, though, Kim had reminded Juliet she was ‘absolutely dying’ to tell her something.

‘I really really really wanted to tell you this sooner.’ Her eyes stretched to an even bigger size. ‘Me and Ryan are engaged. He asked me last November! Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!’

It was lucky Juliet was sitting. Her mind dizzied; she failed to respond.

‘Oh.’ Kim’s face screwed up. She seemed to think for a moment. ‘You’re annoyed at me for not telling you sooner, aren’t you? I really wanted to. It was Ryan that didn’t want me to say anything. I think he didn’t want it to look related to that money he inherited, like as if he was just asking me to marry him because he actually has enough cash to afford it all now. I didn’t even tell Mum and Dad until yesterday!’

Juliet struggled. Thinking of the effects lies had had on her, she wanted desperately to warn Kim of Ryan’s true nature. I’m going to tell her, she decided, and opened her mouth. NO! She clamped it shut. I can’t … She had promised James Rea she wouldn’t reveal the existence of the Otherworld, and how could she explain Ryan’s involvement without revealing everything?

Her mind scrambled for a solution. There must be a way to address this … Then she had an idea. It was apparent Kim loved Ryan, and he claimed to love her too. As awful as the things he’d done were, Juliet knew he had never mistreated her best friend. Kim would have told her. And she couldn’t even imagine what working for Aldrich would have been like, but Ryan was free of that now. Did he deserve a second chance?

I’ll have to wait until he comes to pick Kim up …

‘Sorry, Kim. I was just shocked. That’s great news.’ She smiled brightly. It did feel nice to see Kim so happy; she just wished the circumstances were different. ‘Have you thought about possible dates?’

Kim gave her a suspicious look, but in her clear excitement she didn’t question Juliet’s behaviour. ‘Let’s talk about it while we make some jewellery.’ She began to empty the contents of the stuffed bag onto the table, revealing pliers, clippers, and all manners of wires, threads, beads, chains, clasps, and strings—everything separated and neatly bagged up.

This had been Kim’s hobby for a long time, and since reducing her hours at Ethereal Cuts, she’d been able to put more energy into it, selling her homemade products on the side. She didn’t wear much jewellery herself, but took a lot of pleasure in knowing others liked the pieces she made.

While they chatted away, Kim interspersed the conversation with jewellery-making basics. Although Juliet enjoyed coming up with the décor for her café, she considered herself inadequate in most artistic endeavours. She was confident she could improve with practice, but believed she had more aptitude for ‘left brain’ activities. The poor excuse of a bracelet she ended up making left both her and Kim in hysterics.

Eventually they moved on to the topic of Juliet’s family. After her parents visited the private hospital yesterday, they agreed to spend more time with her and Lillian over the next few months. But because a lot of their money now came from investments and renting out property, they needed to nip back to Spain briefly to keep on top of these dealings.

On the phone the other night, Juliet informed Kim on Lillian’s health, which left Kim in tears. Then she told her about Lillian’s lies, which left Kim annoyed. Now, Juliet let her know about the recent developments.

‘It’s good they finally spoke to you,’ said Kim, ‘and that your mum spoke with Lil, but I just think they all need to make it up to you.’

This was torture, Juliet seeing how upset her best friend got on her behalf … If I told her the truth, she would hate me just for having hidden it at all. Juliet made up that she needed to visit the bathroom, and scooted away. She began to cry as soon as her back was turned, then she locked herself in the toilet.

A new idea came to her while she composed herself. Dropping her mental guard and opening up to the ‘in-between,’ she tried to summon a spirit who had visited her only once before. The ghost of Kim’s ex, Harry Cracknel, a man Ryan Fraser had murdered.

Harry was the one who had warned her of Ryan. If anyone could offer help now, it was him. And as she had learnt, spirits sometimes saw glimpses of the future; maybe Harry could see Kim’s. Juliet brought what she remembered of his features to mind. She imagined her ability as ethereal hands reaching into some kind of vortex, fishing for Harry, sifting through the selection.

No success.

After some more attempts, she gave up, and decided her previous idea would have to do. She considered that being unsuccessful in drawing out Harry’s spirit might be a good sign. Up until this point, she had assumed Harry was content with how things had turned out, otherwise he would have visited her again. Especially if Kim were in danger. But then, Juliet knew the Spiritworld worked in strange ways. Maybe Harry couldn’t visit again. Maybe he’d moved on. Maybe another soulless person had summoned him and trapped him in a jar. She just didn’t know.

Luckily it wasn’t long before Ryan arrived, beeping his car horn to signal his presence. To enact her plan, Juliet needed him alone. ‘I’m just going to run out to Ryan and congratulate him on the news while you pack your stuff away,’ she said to Kim, nodding at the jewellery paraphernalia. ‘Okay?’

‘Yeah, that’s fine, but don’t say you know he proposed last November. We’re telling everyone he asked me while we were having a roof terrace meal in Rhodes!’ She gave a naughty laugh. ‘That’s why I only told you I had something to tell you while we were out there; that was when Ryan finally agreed I could start telling people soon.’

Juliet laughed. ‘I’ll tell him what a romantic way to propose that was, then.’ She hurried downstairs, then left the house even faster and made her way to Ryan’s car.

Ryan was inattentively staring away at something, as if confident that only Kim would approach his car. His skin glowed red with sunburn, and his one ear in Juliet’s sight was pretty much flaking onto his shoulder.

‘Ryan.’

He turned. For a split second he seemed startled, but then smiled as if they were old friends. His crooked teeth disturbed her. ‘Juliet. Where’s Kim?’

‘She’ll be out in a second.’ Juliet spoke quietly but clearly. To any observers it would look like nothing but a pleasant chit-chat through a car window, but it certainly wasn’t that. There were knives in Juliet’s voice. ‘I’ll say this quickly, before Kim comes out. Since that day at Grendel Manor, I have lain awake many times worried sick over Kim’s safety. Then, when you two were in Rhodes, she rang me and said you’d been acting distant, that you were restless … And that got me even more worried. I’m grateful for what you did, helping out me, Nicolas, and his brothers, but why on earth did you have to do it the way you did?’

Ryan’s expression was calm, unwavering. He didn’t seem about to answer, and Juliet gave him no time. ‘Actually, don’t tell me,’ she said. ‘One of the main reasons I’ve not told Kim about you is because she loves you. But I want assurance that you really love her, that you would protect her from anything, that you would never even dream of hurting her …’

Slowly, Ryan’s eyebrows knitted together. ‘I do love her.’ He had a coarse voice, but Juliet had never heard him speak so softly before. ‘She’s the only woman I have ever loved. I would never hurt her, I would never let harm come to her, and everything I did at Grendel Manor, and afterwards, was so I could stay with her … like we agreed.’

Juliet wasn’t sure she believed it.

‘I burnt down Grendel Manor,’ he quietly continued, ‘because it was the best way to get rid of evidence. And I burnt the body at The Burning Grounds as a distraction. I didn’t think anyone would have noticed the manor anyway, because of how secluded it was, but the longer it took anyone to notice, the less likely it was they would find any DNA, or whatever, at the manor …’

For a moment, Juliet thought over his reasoning. She decided it was ridiculous, and considering how long Ryan had worked for Aldrich, she was certain he could have found a more discreet way to handle the situation. ‘I think you did it because you enjoyed it. And maybe after being Aldrich’s slave for so long, you had to let that anger out somehow … but I hope it’s out of your system, that you’ve moved past that kind of sick stuff.’

Ryan blinked a few times, seeming to think up a reply. But Juliet spoke again, asking, ‘And did you know about Aldrich’s sacrifices?’

After a short delay, Ryan pulled a confused face. ‘Sacrifices? I was just his housekeeper. I only figured out he had anything to do with Samantha Crystan’s disappearance when he made me keep tabs on her family.’ His expression became distressed. ‘Did he kill other people?’

Juliet could not tell if he was lying or not. Hearing noises from inside her home, she panicked. Have I said enough? Will he take me seriously? Spontaneously, she finished with, ‘If you ever give me reason to fear for Kim, I will intervene, and you will lose her.’

Ryan gave a level stare. Then suddenly he smiled at her and laughed amiably. She realised his manner was an act when she looked back and saw Kim approaching. Juliet had to play her part too. ‘Take care, Ryan,’ she said pleasantly, then pivoted and embraced Kim.

‘It was really nice to see you!’ squeaked Kim. ‘Keep me up to date about your parents and gran and everything.’ She moved away from the hug and climbed into the car. ‘Love you lots and lots, bye!’

‘Bye, love you.’ Juliet watched the car pull away and leave.

She headed inside, believing she’d done the best she could do for the time being. The threat she had made was a bit impulsive, but Ryan seemed to get the message, at least.

Juliet went over to the part of the wall where she’d repaired the hole, then stood staring at it. In Austin’s attempt to stab her in the face, he had destroyed the schedule that once hung there. I need a new one.

After returning home with the new calendar, she filled out what she could on it. When she hovered over the upcoming Friday, she realised one of her biweekly appointments with Tamara would fall on that day. But after the recent events, she was uncertain if the witch was still expecting her. And do I even want to keep attending? Deciding she wished to discuss her immortality problem with Tamara, she texted the witch and confirmed the session.

Before Friday came around, she managed to find ways to fill up her time. She called a local driving instructor and arranged lessons, two hours a week. She worked a shift every day at Chanton Hillview, getting back into the swing of it in preparation for Sandra’s leaving. And, solicitous over her gran’s health, she did some research on Lillian’s secondary cancer—the usual treatment, outlook, symptoms, and so on.

It was bliss to be busy.

At her appointment in Tamara’s cottage, she explained what Austin had told her, that she would permanently self-actualise ... possibly forever. ‘I don’t want to be immortal.’

The witch’s response was both reassuring and disturbing. ‘Your ability might allow you to remain forever young and healthy, but I think if someone cut off your head, you’d be as dead as the next person.’

Juliet hoped it would never come to a violent death, or suicide, but who knew how she would feel in hundreds of years from now? After discussing the effects of her displacement, she asked if there had been any news from James.

She was worried about Nicolas, with someone wanting him dead and all, but also occasionally wondered what had become of Austin, whom she’d barely thought about since the moment he admitted it had all been an act. If she had been worthless to him, then even thinking of him was a waste of her time. But every now and then she couldn’t help it … I was so desperate to avoid my problems that I rushed into everything with him, forgetting who I was … She had embarrassed herself, she decided, by doing something she had no sympathy for when it was other women : falling for a man so easily, and then being used by him.

‘I have not heard back from James yet,’ Tamara said. ‘I will tell you as soon as I do.’

Juliet was getting used to the waiting game, which was even easier with a crammed schedule. A whole week passed quickly, bringing her up to Sandra’s final shift at Chanton Hillview.

With the help of her staff, Juliet organised a leaving party for the evening, set in the café. Her employees attended, some of their friends and family, and also a few regular customers. With the go-ahead from the private healthcare centre, even Lillian was able to come. Brynne Hospital had her undertaking physical therapy, so as long as she used crutches and was supervised by Juliet, they reckoned the party would do her some good.

While Lillian was there, she asked her granddaughter if Austin was coming. Juliet told her gran she was no longer dating him, that it hadn’t worked out. ‘Oh … what a shame,’ Lillian said sincerely, ‘he seemed like such a nice man.’

The evening went well. Sandra may have been difficult for Juliet’s staff to work with recently, but everyone said good words about her, brought her lovely presents, and wished her the best for the future. She cried as she walked out of Chanton Hillview, declaring in her brazen voice, ‘Earlier today I walked out of here as a staff member for the last time, but don’t you worry, I’ll be walking in and out as a regular customer from now on!’

Things really got busy for Juliet from then on. Her parents returned from Spain a few days later, and this time she allowed them to stay at hers. Then, a week on, Lillian was discharged from the hospital and settled back in at The Haven too, her recovery now being monitored by all three Maystones.

Now that Evelyn and Lillian had sort of made up, Evelyn took it upon herself to start pressuring Juliet’s gran to reconsider cancer treatment. Whether it was out of guilt, or just to have some control over the situation, Juliet didn’t know, but she managed to get her mother to drop it, reminding her it was Lillian’s choice. No one else’s.

There was also some amusing bickering between Juliet’s mother and Lillian over the pronunciation of ‘Evelyn.’

Juliet had been following the developments in the news regarding Kerra’s death, and over the next couple of weeks, she got the urge to text Nicolas a few times. She didn’t, though. He would be going through a lot right now; he wouldn’t need her complicating things.

Another appointment with Tamara swung around, and at this one, Juliet wanted to gain more control over her power. Believing in herself, she managed to find a level in her ability where she could be aware of a spirit’s presence without having it appear, and then she could choose either to block it out or let it get through to her. It was a little like the balance she had achieved at the lodge, blocking out the ghosts in Austin’s jar while simultaneously allowing Kerra’s spirit to remain.

With this new skill, she kept her awareness on the lookout for spirits that were lost, confused, or suffering, and over the next week or so, she helped whichever ones she could to move on. At least some good has come from meeting Austin, she told herself. He proved I can do more with my ability … but I’ll never do the terrible things he did.

By the start of the new month, she felt better than she had all year. It irritated her a little that, in her eyes, she’d already spent half of 2012 regressing. But it was all behind her now.

For her next driving lesson, she took her laptop with her in its case, and asked if the route could end outside Chanton Hillview. It was evening, and when the lesson was over she let herself inside the café, then made her way to the office.

She realised now why it had become one of her favourite places to be: During a busy schedule, it was the perfect private escape—away from home, outside of work hours, and generally detached from life. She set up her laptop, put her music library on shuffle, and then reclined in the office chair, eyes closed, for a few peaceful hours.

Just as she decided she’d had enough relaxation, her phone rang.

It was Tamara.

They all agreed to meet at the witch’s cottage. Juliet made her way there by bus, even though Nicolas had offered to pick her up. And it turned out she was the last to arrive. The witch and the half-elf were each sitting in their corners, and Nicolas on the loveseat.

Not that it mattered to her, but one of the first things Juliet noticed was the length of Nick’s hair. It was longer than she’d ever seen it, and it gave him a less mature look.

She sat down next to him, exchanging brief greetings with each person. Nicolas and Tamara were both pleasant in return. The half-elf just nodded silently.

‘Okay,’ said James, ‘this is embarrassing timing. I’ll be back in a second.’ He made his way out of the room and towards the bathroom.

Nicolas, clearly amused, huffed at Juliet’s side, and it brought out a laugh from her, too. She turned to him and said, ‘How have you been?’

‘I’m actually getting along okay. Things have kind of fallen into their own place. You?’

‘That’s nice to hear. The same for me, really. Only …’

‘What?’

‘A few weeks ago Kim told me she was engaged to Ryan. I’m still concerned about her.’ Juliet sighed, and quickly looked over to Tamara, who was politely daydreaming.

Nick didn’t answer instantly, but seemed to think it over some. ‘We’ll just have to keep an eye on them,’ he said, and Juliet observed his use of we. ‘That’s the best we can do. I just don’t think it’s wise, us stabbing Ryan in the back after he kept his side of the deal.’

‘That’s a good point.’

‘There’s something that’s been on my mind, actually, apart from that someone wants me dead, of course. Has my mum’s spirit appeared to you again? After she said something was chasing her?’

‘No,’ said Juliet regretfully. ‘Did you want me to try to summon her?’

‘She told you not to, didn’t she? She thought it was dangerous.’ He breathed audibly out of his nose, then inhaled. ‘Don’t worry about it. If she contacts you again, you’ll let me know, right?’

‘Sure.’

The half-elf returned, his head tilted and his curls rubbing against the ceiling until he sat back down. He said, ‘So, the framing of Jean-Sébastien Laurent was a success, giving Kerra’s family some closure, as Nicolas asked for. I don’t plan to mention this again. What I’ve brought you both here to tell you is regarding Austin’s interrogation, and the enemy you are already aware of.’ He aimed his words at Juliet and Nicolas, giving the impression he’d already told the witch everything.

‘A few weeks ago, Austin gave us the location of the person he worked for. It was an area of the Otherworld. Since then, my full-blooded kind moved in on the location, but the enemy had already retreated …’

‘So they didn’t catch the man who wants me dead?’ Nicolas shifted on the couch.

‘That’s one of the things I need to tell you: who and what this enemy is. Remember I was almost certain of who it was? Well, now Austin has confirmed it.’

‘Should I be worried?’ Nicolas added a sheepish laugh to the question.

‘I will be watching over you still,’ said the half-elf. ‘My kind will do what we can to protect you.’

Hopefully more than you did last time, thought Juliet, and she was surprised Nicolas didn’t say something similar. Growing tired of the cryptic nature of the conversation, she interrupted. ‘So who is this enemy, then?’

The half-elf folded his arms. He squinted, as if the answer he was about to give would be painful to put into words. He opened his mouth.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

~ WHAT YOU ALWAYS WANTED ~

IT REEKED OF piss and shit. The stench woke him, and he discovered the smell was his own. With his head hung weakly, it took no effort to look down at his body, which was nude if not for soiled boxers. The ground below him looked both gritty and sticky, splotched by excretion. His feet didn’t touch it, though; manacles dug into his ankles, holding his legs apart and off the ground, his body weight sagging down on them and drawing blood from his skin. He could feel that his arms were shackled up and stretched out too. They were numb, and his hands number.

Drip, drip. He tried to lift his head, but a burning pain seared over his skull, reminding him of the last thing that had flashed before his eyes.

I failed. He let his eyelids relax until his sight was a dark haze, and then began to wonder how he had ended up here, how his life had come to this. Because this was surely the end of the road. Drip, drip.

He heard his mother’s grating voice. ‘You continually disappoint me, Arnold.’ He remembered how her eyes had always bore into him, like they knew him better than he knew himself, and judged him for it.

I disappointed you? he thought now. What did you expect, Mother, with the name you gave me …? Not even all these years later did he want to recall his birth name.

‘Nothing wrong with your name,’ his mother’s taut voice rang through from the past. ‘All your names are perfectly good. If anything, you shame them. Arnold was given you after my own father, and Robert after your father’s very own great uncle.’ She scowled. ‘And if you even suggest there’s something wrong with Sole, our own family name, then I’ll …’ She had trailed off, letting his young mind imagine the threat.

Maybe nothing wrong with the names separately, but what sane parents would string them all together?

Here and now in his prison, if that’s what it was, he heard rattling and a creaky hinge. His arms were so dead he was sure he’d never use them again. The hinge creaked in reverse, and footsteps pattered towards him. He saw the frayed ends of a robe ripple and sway. Again he made to raise his head, and this time pushed through the pain. His eyes blurred on the way up. When they refocused, he found a cowled figure, its face shaded except for the tip of its nose, the point of its chin, and two orbs of purple that shone through.

Amethyst eyes.

‘I know what you are,’ rasped the manacled man. ‘You’re an—’

‘Yes, I am,’ said the hooded figure, his voice revealing he was a man. He held a cudgel in one hand, although it didn’t look a brutish weapon, but more a short staff. It was ornate, engraved with imagery the prisoner didn’t understand. ‘I’m also a shaman.’

As the prisoner took it in, he realised something else. ‘Then we must be in the—’

‘Yes, we are.’ The cowled figure stood hauntingly still. The reek didn’t seem to bother him. ‘I know who and what you are,’ his voice came full and low. ‘You are human, and you call yourself Austin. You are soulless, and you call yourself a necromancer.’

I failed. His last sight, the bottom of a wooden door frame, flashed before his eyes again. Austin, Arnold, what did it matter now?

His birth name forced itself upon him: Arnold Robert Sole …

A. R. Sole in its abbreviated form … It churned resentment in his stomach to think of it.

‘I have questions for you,’ the hooded man said, bringing back Austin’s attention.

Austin didn’t like the way the purple eyes stared, burning through him as if they saw all that he was, and judged him the way Arnold’s mother had judged him. He looked anywhere but at the man for now, at stone walls with sconces lit, at a crude table with only a chest on top and wooden stools beside it, at a ceiling of rock with dark spots dripping drops into buckets. Drip, drip.

He returned his attention to the cowled figure, finally seeing how tall he was. Austin hadn’t noticed at first, because he himself was shackled up high on a frame above the gritty-sticky ground. You have questions for me? ‘Goody,’ said Austin. He gave the most unctuous smile he could muster in his pain.

‘These are questions you will answer.’

Austin barked a loud guffaw and heard it echo. ‘I will, will I?’ What do I have left now? That curly-haired prick of a half-elf had made out that Austin would be questioned and maybe even offered a way out, a way to escape his deal with … It was foolish to believe him. ‘I’ll answer your questions if I feel like it, dick-face,’ he told his questioner. ‘You’re not better than me. You’re just another one who thinks they are.’

The hooded man remained motionless, his voice coming out of a shaded mouth. ‘Then I’ll have to make you feel like sharing.’ Occasionally the light from the candles would shift and reveal more of the man’s face, before darkness would take it again. Drip, drip.

Austin felt a stinging on his chest, so he sank his head to look down. There was a straight slash where the curly-haired half-elf had managed to nip him. His blood ran hot in rage. I had him … He thought back to swiping his blade across the half-elf’s throat … but he cheated. That half-breed should have been dead, and Nicolas Crystan even deader. Austin wished he’d had a second chance at jumping out of that room and stabbing Nicolas … He would take the risk and go for his throat. The only reason he didn’t before was because he had to be quick, and from his hiding place he couldn’t see Nicolas until he pounced. The abdomen was an easier target.

‘What do you want from me?’ he asked. He brought his head up again, wondering if he could see the elf’s pointed ears pushing the cowl outward. He could, and now that he’d noticed it, the hood appeared comically distorted, making him snort derisively. His head flared with pain.

The elf shaman ignored the prisoner’s amusement. ‘Two answers are all I want. One, who you are working for. The other, where this employer of yours is located.’

Austin considered his options. ‘What do I get for telling you?’

‘You will avoid a lot of pain.’

‘And then …?’

‘You will face punishment for your crimes.’

Austin snorted again. ‘You really don’t know how to make a deal, do you, dipshit?’

‘I have the upper hand here. I know you will answer my questions, one way or another.’ The elf spoke with no emotion. ‘There is no bargaining to be done.’

Well, in that case, you’ll get nothing from me. Austin knew the person he worked for would kill him for his failure, and he assumed that once this elf got what he wanted, he wouldn’t let him live either.

He peered deep into the amethyst eyes. You’re not better than me, his mind insisted, as he figured out the one thing in these circumstances that could give him pleasure before death: I’ll die without giving him his answers. He smiled. ‘You’re right, dipshit,’ he spat out, ‘there is no bargaining to be done.’ He broke into a laugh, a continuous one that racked his body and made the manacles cut deeper into his wrists and ankles. The smell of his own faeces caught in his throat, giving him over to coughing. He felt how sore and itchy his nether regions were.

The elf shaman finally moved. He walked over to the chest on the table, then opened it. Soon after, the torture began.

When Austin woke again, he was alone in the dark, clean this time, but entirely naked. The last thing he remembered was blinding pain, then he must have passed out. Someone must have washed him and removed his soiled boxers. And he wasn’t hungry, though he did not recall being fed.

Drip, drip. The dripping had given him solace throughout the torture, a distraction he could set his mind on, but otherwise it was extremely irritating. Right now he wanted to wrench himself free and shove his fingers in whatever cracks the water seeped from. Drip, drip.

When the dripping hadn’t been enough to numb the pain, Austin resorted to misleading the elf. He pretended he was about to give answers, but then prattled about his past instead. ‘Jessica, her name was. She was the first girl I ever fancied. She was transferred to my lower school, and I would give her my lunch snack every day.’ Then he went on to describe her, right down to the minutest details. ‘When I was older and understood what I had below, she was the first girl I ever touched myself over.’

The elf had stood entirely still again as he listened to it all, but when Austin lost the energy to go on waffling, the shaman took up his tools again … and upped his techniques.

Drip, drip. At this moment in the dark dungeon, Austin had an idea. He tried to use his ability, thinking he could compel a spirit to help him, or maybe force one into an object or a dead rat or something, and make it do his will. But his power didn’t work. There’s no in-between to see from this side … I’m on the same side my soul is … He thought of who he worked for, and what they might do with his soul. He’s in this world too.

Time went on. Already Austin had no idea how long he’d been here. It could have been days and days and he wouldn’t have known. In a weak point during his torture, he’d been tempted to give in. But then he told himself, If I let him know who I work for, then he might help Nicolas … and why should Nicolas live and have a better life than me? In his bitterness, Austin hoped his employer would find a reason to kill Juliet too.

Noises came. The rattling and the hinge creak. Soon the sconces held light, and the hooded shaman was back. ‘I think yesterday went quite well, don’t you?’ said the interrogator in a neutral tone.

‘If you like making naked men scream, then yes, you got a top score.’ A laugh burst out of Austin, but the consequent inhalation expanded his ribs and cracked open the scabs that had formed overnight. Don’t show pain. His pain is worse … It torments him that I won’t tell.

Austin was given another chance to speak his answers, to which he spat at the shaded face, aiming for those lustrous orbs. The torture resumed. He became thankful again for the dripping, and later turned his thoughts to …

… Jessica. In lower school the other kids had bullied her to begin with, because of a mole she bore on one cheek. Arnold Sole had thought she was beautiful and made fast friends with her. We’ll get married one day, and have a big family, they both agreed. At that age, Arnold had believed it.

Like the torture session before, Austin teased the shaman with the promise of answers, only to go on about those early years of his life. They had been the best years. Maybe the only good ones, before he got his power. He took the torture better this time, because the elf used the same tricks as before. But eventually the agony became too much. Austin returned to darkness.

It was like his mother was there with him, waking him. He heard her voice so clear, coming back to him from his middle school years, when it all began to go downhill. ‘When your brother was your age he was on all the sports teams,’ she scolded. ‘And your sister is two years younger than you, yet even she can do more than you. She plays the violin like you wouldn’t believe it.’ Austin had believed it; when he’d been Arnold, he’d endured the noise of his sister practising every day.

And where are my brother and sister now? He aimed the question at the memory of his mother. Oh, yes, they’re in a jar with you and Father. He laughed, scabs tearing open. You’ve all made it so far.

‘Arnold. You’re not listening to me. You waste your pocket money on these stupid cartoon books.’ They’re comics. Graphic novels, Mother. You wouldn’t understand … Jessica had understood, back in lower school at least. She liked to know what he was reading, and she even asked him to draw pictures of the characters for her. In middle school, though, she began to distance herself from him. That mole of hers ended up being considered a beauty mark, and her new friends were … well, they weren’t fond of Arnold and the type he hung out with.

‘You didn’t understand,’ Austin muttered to his bloody body, in the present.

From the past, his mother’s voice continued. ‘Your friends are all weird. Girls will never like you, not if you stay this way. I just don’t want you to grow up and think that everyone else is better than you, Arnold. But at this rate, they will be.’

Drip, drip. Shackled up, he heard the now-familiar sounds of his torturer entering. The elf came and stood before him again in the statue-like way he did, and repeated his two all-important questions.

‘Sorry, you say something?’ Austin acted as if he’d been disturbed out of a pleasant moment. ‘I’m a little busy here, that’s all; maybe you should come back another time.’ He smirked.

‘Austin,’ the elf said levelly, ‘you will answer my questions.’

‘Is that like your mantra or something? Because it’s getting really old now …’

‘You should want to answer my questions.’ The purple eyes momentarily flicked out of existence with each blink. ‘The last person I tortured was left able to speak only one sentence.’

Austin threw out a laugh and mocked the shaman with, ‘You’re a bit slow, aren’t you? If you leave me in that state, how will I be able to tell you anything?’

‘You will tell me what I want to know before it comes to that.’ The elf calmly made his way to the chest on the table.

The torture went on, and Austin supposed the days did, too. The elf shaman dealt similar torture each session. To begin with, Austin could handle it; the predictability allowed him the chance to mentally prepare when he could. But after a while he began to dread knowing what was coming, dread the repetitiveness of it all, dread the same areas of his body being reopened, tormented again and again and again and again and again and again and again and … Drip, drip.

Someone must have kept coming in while he was unconscious, because each time he woke he was clean, and his wounds had been somewhat treated. Nothing festered, at least.

It was bliss to wake in the dark, because then he wouldn’t find himself glaring at the dripping water, or glaring at the chest on the table, knowing the tools inside, or glaring at the candle flames, knowing the pain of fire, of his flesh being cooked.

Across the days, he tried to torture the shaman right back, by rambling more of his life story …

‘Arnold the Acne Arsehole,’ he heard his classmates shout, in those upper school years, when he had more spots than friends, but maybe fewer spots than enemies … Maybe. By this point he was probably the least loved person in school. The popular boys regularly abused him, his ‘weird’ friends from the years before had abandoned him, and Jessica was one of the most desirable girls in the year. She wouldn’t go near him.

He came to resent many of his peers and couldn’t understand what made some boys more likable than him. There was a boy who perpetually sucked his lower lip, leaving it red and scabby, but somehow the girls found that cute. Another who was plain ugly, but so hostile he was fancied as the ‘bad boy.’ No one ever found my spots cute. The other teenagers would sing to him, Arnold Acne Arsehole plays with his arsehole.

But there was a day when Arnold thought it would all change. He had his least favourite lesson, physical education. Having been bullied whenever he attempted the ‘manlier’ sports, he managed to gain sympathy from his teacher, who let him sit out on the occasions he felt intimidated.

It was a particularly cold day, and Arnold’s class played football. The teacher acted as referee and was so absorbed in the game that he didn’t notice Arnold sneak off to get out of the bitter wind. If Arnold had been allowed to stay in school uniform, then the cold might not have gotten to him, but his teacher always made him change into his PE outfit, even when he didn’t join in.

When he made it back to the changing rooms, he found Jessica inside, sitting on a bench.

‘What are you doing here?’ she asked, as if he were the one in the opposite gender’s changing room. Jessica had transformed a lot at upper school, acquiring an almost constant expression of disgust on her face.

‘Erm …’ Arnold was nearly too afraid to speak. ‘Aren’t you supposed to be in class?’ he asked, instead of answering.

‘Aren’t you supposed to be out there playing football?’ She made her expression more disgusted. ‘Anyway, where’s Curtis?’

Curtis … Arnold hated that boy. At the beginning of the lesson, Curtis had complained that he felt unwell, but without a sick note, the PE teacher believed none of it and made him join in. Last Arnold saw of Curtis, he was competitively playing football, but feigning sickness and whining to the ref when he could.

‘He’s playing football,’ Arnold told the girl he had wanted to marry.

Jessica pouted at first, then shrugged and got up suddenly. ‘Oh, okay.’ She dropped her hostile mask and put on a sultry face as she approached him. ‘Arnold …’ She stretched out his name in a way that made him want to do anything for her. ‘We’ve always been close, haven’t we? So I was wondering if you would, maybe, let me try something with you?’

His heart began beating so fast it hurt. No reply came to him. He felt Jessica press up close to his body and put her hands on his sides. She said, ‘I’m just a bit curious about what you’ve got under here …’ Her hands stroked down to his hips and then slowly came around to his front. She fumbled to undo the tight string of his shorts, but eventually she pulled them down, his underwear following.

Arnold’s voice came to him with the fear that his bits were out, and someone might see. ‘Errh-errhh … should we be doing this here?’

‘Yeah, we’ll be fine; no one’s going to come. I just want to have a look.’

Arnold couldn’t tell if she was making fun of him, but she proceeded to take his top off, leaving him naked except for his shorts and underwear bunched around his trainers. It didn’t make sense. If the rumours could be believed, Jessica had done things with the most popular boys in the year, and even college boys much older than her. Why would she bother with Arnold Acne Arsehole?

‘Can I touch it?’ she asked, and grabbed him without waiting.

The tingle he felt was nothing like when he fondled himself while thinking of her. In no time, he was aroused, and in less time he made a mess on himself and the floor … and that was when Curtis entered the changing rooms.

Jessica instantly screamed and threw herself back from Arnold, whose mind began to swirl and swirl. He couldn’t figure out what was happening. For a while it was all a blur. He froze, unable to even pull his clothes back on. Soon someone else was in the room, his geography teacher, and Jessica wrapped her arms around the woman and began sobbing. ‘He dragged me in here and got himself naked and then he tried to touch me and everything!’ she asserted.

Then Arnold was outside, thrown to the ground, and Curtis loomed over him. In his nakedness he was even colder than before. Curtis laid into him with football boots, relentless in his attack. It took some time before anyone intervened.

The following months of Arnold’s life were hell. He got expelled; he was forced to attend therapy; his parents repeatedly told him how he’d shamed the family; they enrolled him at a private school he hated; and on the occasions he went outside, he would be called pervert, rapist, sicko … A few times he was even beaten up after bumping into teens from his previous school.

He began to escape into his own world, meditating, visualising, dreaming of other realms and dimensions like in his graphic novels. As he grew up he shut himself off more and more, spending his time alone in his bedroom, eyes closed, imagining fantastical settings. He would research in strange library books about ways to develop his ‘psychic self,’ attempting divination, astral projection, reading auras, telepathy, telekinesis, and much more.

It was during one of his attempts at astral projection that a voice appeared inside his head.

: Hello, Tormented One.

The voice startled him so much that his eyes flew open and severed the contact. But later, he tried again to get into the same state. He succeeded. When the voice came again, Arnold tried to focus hard, thinking maybe he could somehow glimpse who communicated with him, but he heard …

: You don’t want to know who I am.

Arnold aimed back at the voice, But do you have a name?

: You can call me … Moloch.

Over the next few years, Arnold gained a lot of knowledge from the voice, who told him he was special, that not many humans learnt how to reach the Otherworld through meditation. The voice also taught him about the existence of other beings, other realms, and magic. He told tales of humans with psychic abilities, even of one who could control people with his mind.

The idea of that got Arnold thinking, and while he daydreamed over having complete control over others, the voice said …

: Would you like that type of power?

Arnold couldn’t answer, and came out of his meditation to think. He’d done some research on the word Moloch since being told to address the voice by that name, and so he knew of the worship that was practised in the past, of children being sacrificed to the ancient god. His findings hadn’t deterred him from conversing with the voice, though.

But this seemed like a bigger choice to make; was he being offered something? He knew from his comics that accepting it would come with a steep price … but then, those graphic novels were only fiction. Whatever consequences the illustrated characters faced were probably just to convey stupid moral lessons, he figured. Arnold considered the voice’s question for a long time, thinking about how much he’d love to be like one of his favourite superheroes, someone people would look up to, and do things for … but in the end, something about it all spooked him.

He returned to his meditative state and told the voice of his concerns. The voice was not happy.

: All the knowledge I’ve given you, and you spurn my offer! Be left to your pitiful life, Tormented One.

Arnold had tried to contact the voice again, to apologise, to show his gratitude for everything he’d been taught, for all of their conversations, for … having a friend to speak to. But it was of no use.

The years that followed were lonelier and worse than the ones before.

Drip, drip.

Austin brought himself out of his past hell, out of Arnold’s body, and came back to this present hell. He found himself crying. The elf shaman entered not long after, and as usual, he gave Austin the chance to answer the two questions; he seemed to say it in a different manner this time, as if it was the necromancer’s last chance.

Austin spoke no answers. Drip, drip. The torture was the same again. To endure it, Austin spoke of the bitter memories that haunted him, everything about his family and Jessica and Curtis and school and the changing rooms. He didn’t reveal how he first made contact with ‘Moloch,’ though.

He managed to stay conscious throughout the gory session. At the end of it, the elf shaman left for a while and then returned with a pestle and mortar. The little bowl was filled with a luminous blue paste, and its cloying odour made Austin dizzy.

The elf used his long fingers to scoop out the blue gloop, and then he rubbed it into Austin’s open wounds.

‘What’s this?’ said Austin. ‘A condiment for when you eat me? You savage!’ He laughed hysterically to himself until his torturer scraped some of the paste onto the pestle and shoved it in his mouth.

The thick substance began to dissolve, fizzling like popping candy. Austin gagged at the taste. He was about to spit, but the shaman dropped the mortar and pestle and grabbed his face, clamped his mouth shut, and squeezed his nostrils together. He had to swallow.

‘You may think I have learnt nothing,’ said the elf, his blazing amethyst eyes boring into Austin’s, ‘but you have given me much more than you realise.’ The shaman gave a single satisfied laugh. ‘You don’t know a man until you torture him.’

Austin’s vision blurred, and his mind felt like it was swimming. The pain of his injuries seemed to buzz into numbness. He heard the dripping stretch out—drriiiiip, drrriiiiiiip—while he fell into a dreamy darkness.

A woman gasped. There was the rattling and the creaky hinge, and then the sound of footsteps came towards Austin in the dungeon. ‘Oh, what have they done to you, Arnold?!’

Arnold? ‘Wh-who are you?’ Austin’s voice came out croaky. All the sconces were lit, but it took a moment for his vision to clear. The woman looked about thirty and had a beauty mark on one cheek. ‘Jessica?’

‘Yes, it’s me; it’s Jessica. You poor thing.’ She inspected his naked and gored body.

He felt shock. Then rage. I should have killed you back in the changing rooms. I should have throttled you and taken you on the floor. But he also felt sadness, because Jessica looked more beautiful than ever, reminding him of how his heart had fluttered the first time he ever set eyes on her. For some reason she wore a dressing gown now. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘I was taken by these strange people and brought to this strange place … They told me you were here.’ She gasped again, her breath shaking with emotion. With Austin propped up so high, Jessica’s head only came to his abdomen. She peered up at him. ‘Oh, look at your face … You are so handsome now.’

I’m finally worthy, am I? ‘Why would they bring you here?’

‘They told me you should tell them what they want to know. If you do that, then they will let both of us go. They promised. And then we can be together … Isn’t that what you always wanted?’

‘Wh-why would you want to be with—’

‘I hope you can forgive me for what I did back in school,’ she said desperately. ‘I was young and stupid …’

What if I could forgive her? Back in the lodge, when the curly-haired half-elf had hinted at a way out for Austin, Austin had seriously considered it. If he could let everything go, all the resentment, all the jealousy, all the hate, then maybe he could finally have a decent life for himself, and relationships, like the one he’d faked with Juliet. But then he had wondered, With my soul in that thing’s possession, what hope is there for me? And while that had made him doubt the prospect of a good future, the half-elf pushed him over the edge by speaking to him like dirt, the way everyone had spoken to Arnold.

Here and now, Austin struggled to think at all. ‘I … don’t know if I could forgive you.’ His mind swam, the way the paste had made it swim.

‘I’d be good to you,’ Jessica said fervently. She stepped forward and touched him below, but nothing stirred in him. After all his suffering he wasn’t sure that pleasure still existed, or ever had. ‘Come on, tell me the answers they want …’ She moved back and slowly pulled open her dressing gown. Underneath she was completely naked.

Austin stared down at her hard nipples, trying to feel something, then dropped his head lower, gazing at the dark patch between her legs.

Not even a twitch. In fact, he preferred the thought of opening her throat.

She moved closer again and tugged him some more. ‘Please tell me the answers they want. Then we can get married, like you always wanted, have that family together, like you always wanted … Oh, please, Austin!’

Austin? Jessica had known him as Arnold. ‘How do you know that name?’

‘Huh?’ Jessica frowned. ‘What do you mean, Arnold?’

‘You called me Austin.’

‘Oh … that’s … that’s just what the strange people here call you. I—’

The blue paste … ‘You’re not Jessica.’ … Drugs and an elf illusion. ‘I won’t fall for your trick, dipshit!’ He’s trying to use my own ramblings against me.

Before Austin’s eyes, Jessica stretched taller, her frame expanding, her naked flesh rippling into fabric, her hair becoming a cowl, her face shading into darkness with purple eyes. A buzzing sound accompanied the apparent metamorphosis.

‘Looks like you don’t know me as well as you thought,’ Austin told the elf shaman.

The amethyst orbs were unblinking. ‘Are you ready to answer my question?’

‘Huh, sorry?’ He gave a smug grin. ‘Did you want to know something?’

‘I will leave you to think for a while, Austin, but know that if you are still uncooperative when I return, then I will be forced to try other … techniques.’

‘I can’t wait,’ said Austin as enthusiastically as possible. ‘Be sure to wake me when you do.’

The elf exited in no hurry.

Austin had a fair amount of energy, though the effects of the paste still muddled his mind. He hung awake for a long time. Drip, drip. He put separate attention to the pains he felt across his body, wondering if he could accelerate the healing with his power. I am life, permanently self-actualising. Eventually, though, he fell into unwanted memories again …

After Arnold had been abandoned by the voice from the Otherworld, he continued to live at home with his parents, but would seethe alone in his room in bitter misery. Attempting to re-join the real world—if he had ever been a part of it—he searched for a job.

He worked and was fired from multiple menial jobs over the next few years.

‘Arnold …’ His mother’s voice again. ‘Your brother is married now, to a beautiful woman. Just look at the money the two of them are making! Do you not want that kind of life for yourself? Can you not do better than this? Even your sister moved out years ago!’

Arnold hated his life, his mother, his brother, his father, his sister, and contemplated suicide more than once. The outside world made fun of him when he dared face it, because of his past and his appearance. His acne had left scars, and his face had not developed; he only seemed to get uglier.

Therapy met a dead end after Arnold was repeatedly violent and uncooperative in sessions. He secretly hoped he could talk to his parents about his feelings somehow, as much as he despised them, but his mother never understood and always criticised him, and his father had barely spoken to him since the incident with Jessica in the changing rooms.

One day, when Arnold’s mother was touting praise about her two favourite offspring again, she’d gone on to say, ‘You’re twenty-eight years old now, Arnold. You’re so lucky we don’t chuck you out on the street. You’re an embarrassment to me and your father.’

Although he rarely spoke back to her, he felt a need to reply. ‘Father loves them better than me. Doesn’t he? He doesn’t love me at all.’

His mother looked at him with those eyes, the eyes that told him he was shit on her shoe. ‘Do you want to know how you can tell your father loves you? Because he hasn’t kicked you out yet, that’s how. I’ve told him countless times that we should, and one time I was so close to coming to this bedroom and dragging you out by the ear. I don’t care if you’re a grown man now; you’re weak and pathetic. If your father let me have my way, I’d haul you outside kicking and screaming if I had to. You’ve brought nothing but shame upon my family.’

Arnold was left stunned, feeling like someone had smacked a giant sledgehammer around his face. Later that day, he wept and escaped into his visualisations and begged and begged for the voice to return and give him the power he’d rejected. ‘Maybe I won’t be a superhero,’ he’d snivelled aloud to himself, ‘but this might be the closest I can get.’

He cried and mentally pleaded until he was choking on tears and close to giving up. But the voice returned.

: I will do you this favour, Tormented One, but when I have use of you in the future, you will obey.

Arnold was so relieved to hear ‘Moloch’ in his head that he agreed without hesitation, and asked what he had to do to get his power.

: Open your wrist and drain your blood. You must offer yourself to me. It is the only way to make it work. When you are at the point of death, I will take your soul, leaving life to flood into you, restoring your health and granting you power over others.

Arnold experienced some trepidation, wondering what would happen if it didn’t work.

: Then you would die. But is that not better than your pathetic life?

Before any other doubts could consume him, he made his way to the kitchen to collect a knife, avoiding his parents, and then headed for the nearest bathroom. In no time, he was slashing one wrist and whispering that he belonged to the voice. He woke hours later, hanging over a bath tub stained with blood, and staring down at his wrist, which was covered in scabs instead of deep, open gouges.

It took him a while, and some stealth, to scrub the tub clean without drawing his parents’ attention, but he was eager to get it done and return to the voice. When he was back in his bedroom and guided his visualisation to ‘Moloch,’ he began to learn about his new condition.

Over the next few months, Arnold’s appearance changed. His face filled out, his acne scars healed, and his body toned up all by itself. He was taught about his ability to glimpse the Spiritworld and its inhabitants, and how he could extract information from them, summon them, force them into objects, and much more. The voice said to him during one lesson …

: I have some influence over the Spiritworld myself.

… though ‘Moloch’ did not expand on this statement.

Before the deal had been made, the voice failed to mention that Arnold could control only spirits; if he wanted to control anyone in particular, he would need to kill them first. That’s what you get for making a dark deal, he reasoned. It was a pretty big drawback, but he soon came around to the idea and chose his first victims. With some cunning ideas from ‘Moloch,’ he arranged the deaths of his family members, turning a pleasant gathering into what looked like a tragic accident. Then he escaped to create a new identity for himself, becoming Austin Townsend. Jessica would have been among those he killed, but to his annoyance, she had moved halfway across the world by this point.

During one communication with ‘Moloch,’ Austin attempted to glimpse whom the voice belonged to, like he had the first time he heard it. This time he succeeded, and instantly recoiled. Later, when he contacted the voice again, it said …

: Now you have seen me, are you sure you wanted to?

Austin wished he’d never learnt what the thing he’d sold his soul to was.

About a year on, after Austin had a taste of being attractive, of having women swoon over him, of having multiple women in bed, of being hale and energetic, of being easily liked and somewhat envied, the voice came to him, angry, and told him it was time to obey.

‘Moloch’ provided Austin with two names, one complete, one not, and then gave him a destination and instructions …

Drip, drip. Austin came to with the smell and feel of the paste on his body, and its taste souring his mouth. The dripping drops increasingly irritated him. When the elf shaman next appeared, he asked the questions again.

You’re asking the wrong questions, elf, thought Austin. You shouldn’t be asking who I work for, but what I work for …

When no answers flowed, the elf tortured his prisoner more severely than ever before.

Austin’s bones were broken, his skin boiled and flayed, his fingers and toes crushed and removed, and his body prodded with miniature knives. He was sure his mind would snap at one point, and prayed that it would, but he kept lucidity.

Yes! his mind screamed, He’s getting carried away! He’ll accidentally kill me … I’ll die without giving those answers! Austin held onto that thought, smiling through his pain and passing out once again.

When he next woke, his skin and toes and fingers were back, and his bones were healed. He didn’t understand. He knew he healed fast, but not this fast … and he doubted his ability could grow back his extremities.

The blue paste had been reapplied, as it had before the last session. Elf illusions, he realised hopelessly, wondering how many more times he’d feel his toes crushed and sliced off.

The torture came again, and before it commenced, the shaman said, ‘It will only get worse.’ His colourful eyes had a satisfied glint to them.

The shaman was right; it got much worse. Austin was strangled, drowned, de-nailed, scalped, whipped, raped, circumcised, and then dismembered. The grand finale was complete castration. But when Austin passed out and came to again, he was whole and healthy and alone.

That’s when he cracked.

‘I’ll give you the answers! Just kill me! PLEEEAAASE! KILL ME ALREADY!’ He remembered all he endured before blacking out, and imagined an eternity of it. If there’s a hell, then this is it … He wasn’t even sure what body parts he still owned, if the torture was the illusion or if this was. Maybe all of it was some sort of trance. Maybe he wasn’t even here in this Otherworld dungeon, but instead was being held captive in the human world and under an induced coma loaded with magic.

The elf shaman didn’t come for a long time, further tormenting Austin with the wait. Austin recalled being sexually taken during the last torture session … taken by a male elf. So much hate saturated his body now, he was sure it would kill him. He prayed it would.

The dripping became more wicked. Drip, drip, drip, drip, drip, drip, drip, drip, drip, drip, drip, drip, drip, drip, drip, drip, DRIP, DRIP, DRIP, DRIP, DRIP, DRIP, DRIP, DRIP, DRIP! DRIP! DRIP! DRIP! DRIP! DRIP! DRIP! DRIP! DRIP! DRIP!!!

Austin was certain his mind would crumble any second, but his torturer finally returned. Without even being asked the questions, he began spewing everything about how he met the person he worked for and how he traded his soul for power, and where it all led.

The elf interrupted. ‘You’ve already told me where to find the person you work for. Now tell me who it is.’

I did? He didn’t remember telling the shaman about his employer’s location. He must have talked during a weak point. A lot of the intervals between the torture techniques were a blur now.

It was time to give his final answer, then. He thought of his failed mission. If he had managed to kill Nicolas Crystan, then his employer might have let him live a good life, like the one he had started to have with his new looks and his ability … before he was called to obey. ‘Nicolas Crystan will never be safe,’ he told the shaman.

The luminous eyes stared unblinking. ‘Why?’

‘Why?!’ Austin laughed manically, unsure how many fingers or toes he had, or if he even had a tongue. Am I saying this now? ‘Because …’ he began, but his focus slipped.

‘Because?’

He saw Nicolas in his mind, and wanted nothing more than to rip his throat open and watch the blood gush. Through more manic giggles, he said, ‘Because a demon wants him dead.’

The laughs racked out of him as he watched the shaman pull back his cowl and reveal a long, chiselled face, thin ears stretching into points at each side. The elf’s purple orbs were as bright as ever, but his expression was full of anger. He thrust out his cudgel staff with one hand, then faced the palm of his other at the intricately detailed stick. A white ball of light took form at its tip, buzzing and sparking, gaining size and glowing stronger.

Considering Austin had only heard the shaman speak in a level voice, he was disturbed by the figure’s present demeanour. The elf’s rage was palpable, and his magic made the imagery on the staff dance outward and take on haunting forms.

The last thing Austin heard was his torturer’s furious wail; the last he saw, blinding light.

THE END OF A
BODY DISPLACED

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BOOK THREE:

A SPIRIT DISPLACED

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If you’re looking for more to read, check out A Note Below: A Lansin Island Short Story about a haunted lighthouse and a family torn apart.

FROM THE AUTHOR:

Another cliffhanger? I know! But Book Two was always meant to end with this revelation, and to me it feels like the natural progression of the overall arc of the series. I have plans for the plot lines that have been left open and these will be developed upon in future books. I hope you enjoyed this novel and found closure in the main plot lines. Be sure to sign up to the mailing list—things are going to get a lot bumpier for Nick and Juliet!

Thank you for reading,

Andrew Butcher.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Other Works

Acknowledgements

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

The End of A Body Displaced

From the author:

Table of Contents

Other Works

Acknowledgements

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

The End of A Body Displaced

From the author: