Vengeful Magic Page 3

  Dragging herself out of bed, she wrapped a light summer robe over her long t-shirt and shorts and then padded downstairs, smiling at seeing Alex cooking at the hob, the radio low in the background. She walked up behind him and wrapped her arms around him, leaning into his back.

  “Something smells fab. Is there enough for me?”

  “Of course!” He twisted around to kiss her. “Egg and bacon sandwich on crusty bread sound good?”

  “Perfect!” She headed to the coffee machine and made herself a drink, but Alex was watching her with a worried expression on his face.

  “Did you sleep okay after last night?”

  She nodded. “I did, eventually, other than a few weird dreams. I am really worried about Helena.”

  “I know. I have to work this afternoon, but I can search for Helena afterwards. I find that communing with spirits is more effective at night.”

  She smiled. “Do they have a night?”

  He laughed, a little ruefully. “I don’t think so. I think it’s better for me, not them.” He paused, a wary look on his face, as he said, “I didn’t mean to doubt you last night, or piss you off.”

  “You didn’t,” she said, knowing he’d been concerned about her welfare, and understanding his feelings about Helena. “I was just worried…and a bit shocked. That attack came from nowhere. In our garden!” She shook her head. “Something punched straight through our protection spells. That will be one of my jobs today—I’ll reinforce them.”

  “Just promise me you won’t try to find Helena on your own!”

  “Witches’ honour!” Talking to spirits was Alex’s specialty, not hers. “Any news from Newton?”

  “’Fraid so. The guy was pulverised.” He updated her while he cooked, and then steered them both to the outside table with their breakfast.

  Avery brushed her hair back from her shoulders as she settled at the table. “I feel I should have lost my appetite, but I’m afraid I’m still starving.” She took a bite, swallowed and said, “Do you think a witch attacked him?”

  “It’s possible, I guess. It would have to be a pretty nasty spell to break every bone, and I can’t see it being one of the Cornwall Coven, but we shouldn’t rule it out.”

  Avery shuddered. “I just hope his death was sudden. I hate to think he’d have suffered. But the doubloon is odd!”

  “The Spanish attacked Mousehole and a few other towns farther along. Not the Armada…it was a few years later than that. I looked it up after Newton phoned.”

  “Wow. That’s like over five hundred years ago!”

  “It’s even weirder when you consider the gold that was thrown at you last night. We’ve still got a coin here, so I’ll see if I can get a timeframe on it.”

  “They have to be connected, surely,” Avery reasoned. “We all know how popular smuggling was in Cornwall years ago. It makes me think they must be part of a treasure hoard.”

  “Maybe more than one,” Alex suggested. “Newton was very sure his coin was Spanish, but if ours is English, are they from the same place?”

  “And why would the Spanish hide their own gold?” she asked, puzzled, before taking another bite and speaking through a mouthful of food. “Shouldn’t they have been stealing it?”

  “In theory, yes. But they burned entire towns then—Mousehole was completely destroyed, except for the pub.”

  “Wow. They burned everything?”

  He nodded. “And then moved on to Newlyn, Penzance, and Paul. A few locals were killed, and they took prisoners. Fortunately, they were released unharmed when they left.”

  Avery finished eating and pushed her plate away. “So there were a lot of them?”

  “Four galleys, according to what I read. They were planning to take England, eventually.” He laughed and sipped his coffee. “But failed.”

  “I guess trade would have meant their coins would have been circulating here too.” Avery groaned. “So many questions for a Sunday morning. One night and everything changes!”

  “Typical White Haven.”

  Avery tried to dispel her worry, especially about Helena. “With any luck, this is just a horrible one-off.”

  He grabbed her hand and kissed her fingertips. “Ever the optimist! I hope you’re right. Apart from doing protection spells, what are you getting up to today? You know I’m working later.”

  “Gardening, I think. Going to take advantage of this beautiful weather.”

  He grimaced. “Great!”

  She laughed, knowing he hated gardening. “Grinch.”

  “Like you want me grumbling around you,” he pointed out.

  “Ha! True.” As much as she wanted to disagree with him, he was right. Once she was in the garden, she lost hours, just as Briar did.

  “I shall do something useful and clean the attic!” he said, rising to his feet. “We’ve been making a lot of mess lately, practicing our spells.”

  Avery drained her cup. “Deal.”

  By the time Alex arrived at The Wayward Son at just after one in the afternoon, the pub was already packed, and his staff were busy.

  Alex didn’t waste time, heading into the kitchen to see how everything was going. His head chef, Jago Hammet, a big burly man in his late thirties, was generally good-humoured and loved his work, in a sharp-tongued way. He had a quick wit and was very impatient, and although he was inclined to shout when busy, the other staff loved him. He looked up as Alex walked in, a cloud of steam billowing around him. “He finally arrives! About time!”

  “Cheeky sod,” Alex said, nodding in greeting to the other three staff that were busy preparing the meals. There was a young man barely out of his teens called Jake, Georgie, who was in her mid-twenties, and the sous chef named Larry who had four kids. He constantly looked knackered, and Alex wasn’t sure if it was the job or the kids. He suspected the kids. “How’s it going?” he asked them.

  “Like clockwork, of course.” Jago glanced outside at the weather. “The sun always brings the punters out in force. Doesn’t stop them from eating acres of roast beef, though.”

  Alex winked. “It’s Sunday lunch! Not the same without it.” He inhaled deeply. “Smells amazing.”

  “That’s because it is.” Jago never doubted himself. “Tell Anna out there to get a move on—and that bloody big unit, Zee. Next lot of food is up.”

  Alex nodded and left them to it, narrowly avoiding Anna as she swung through the door as he exited. She’d been working at the pub for a few months and was a good find. Dark-haired and feisty, she was a single mother in her thirties with teenage sons. She worked hard and was reliable. “Hey, boss. Newton is in. You in trouble again?”

  “Funny,” he said dryly. Everyone knew Newton by now. He made himself comfortable at the bar and watched the football if Alex wasn’t around, and Alex was pretty sure if he focussed less on the match and more on his surroundings, he might actually get a date.

  “And Reuben’s here, too.” She lowered her voice and looked hopeful. “Is he still with El?”

  “Of course.”

  “Damn it. A girl can hope. That big hunk of muscle.” A dreamy expression passed across her face, and then she disappeared to grab the plates on the counter.

  Alex shook his head as he headed into the bar, half wondering why Zee wasn’t on her hit list. If she wanted ‘a big hunk of muscle,’ Zee was it. He banished the thought from his mind, vowing never to refer to his friends like that again. Instead, he thanked the Gods that his employees were cheerful and upbeat, which made his life easier. He often envied Avery for her small number of staff; running the pub was hard work and usually busy, and sometimes the bar staff turned over quicker than he liked. He was lucky with Simon, his manager. He was calm and organised, which allowed Alex time to pursue some of his more unusual activities. He spotted Zee further along the counter and went to relieve him, nodding to Kate, his barmaid, as he passed her.

  “Hey Zee, finish this order and then head to the kitchen. I’ll cover this.”

  “Sure t
hing,” Zee said as he finished pulling the pint, placed it on the bar, and took payment. As soon as the customer had gone, he said, “Shadow said there was a problem last night.”

  “That’s one way of putting it.” Alex reminded himself he shouldn’t be surprised by Shadow’s masterful understatements. He lowered his voice. “They found a man dead on the beach by Fowey last night. It’s been on the news. And it’s probably paranormal. Hopefully Newton can tell us a bit more today.”

  Zee nodded. “Good, keep me informed.”

  He disappeared into the kitchen to start carrying dishes as Alex continued to work, finally making his way to Reuben and Newton’s spot on the bar.

  “Didn’t expect to see you today, Newton. Do either of you need another pint?”

  “Not for me,” Reuben said, wiggling his half-full glass.

  “Just a coke, please,” Newton said. “I needed a break, and time to think, and the drive has given me that.” He checked his watch. “I’d better be getting back, though. I’ve just told Reuben we can’t find anything on the cliff edge.”

  Reuben’s eyes were narrowed as he watched Newton. “The cliff path isn’t close at that point though, is it?”

  “No. There’s a patch of open ground and a few stunted trees, all sloping towards the edge—but the ground is undisturbed.” Newton shook his head, perplexed. “It doesn’t make sense. We should have found something!”

  “He wasn’t washed ashore?” Alex asked.

  “No. The victim was bone dry. Time of death is estimated to be between eight and ten last night.”

  Reuben sipped his pint. “I take it you searched a good distance?”

  “Yep, on the beach and the cliff top, a half a mile on either side. There’s no sign of a scuffle, or his car.”

  “The cliff path runs a long way. Maybe it was parked further than you think.”

  “Maybe.” Newton sipped his coke and grimaced. “Not quite Doom, is it? Anyway, with luck we’ll find his car today somewhere.”

  “Has he got family?” Reuben asked.

  “An older sister who lives in Penzance, and parents who live in St Ives. I went to see them this morning.” He frowned. “Unfortunately, they can’t tell us anything. They have no idea what he was doing there. He lives with his girlfriend, so I really need to find her, but so far she’s not at their house, or answering her phone…and that’s worrying.”

  “Do you think they’ve been up to something dodgy?” Reuben asked.

  “Possibly. He had a very unpleasant death.” Newton stared into his drink. “Something feels off. I don’t suppose you’ve thought of anything that could smash someone to a pulp?”

  Alex shrugged. “Not really.” He looked at Reuben. “I guess this could be demonic?”

  “It’s possible,” Reuben said, nodding. “They are violent!”

  Newton groaned. “I hope it’s not! We might find something useful when we search his house. I’m heading there now.” He drained his glass. “I had to get the identification confirmed first. His father did that. His mother was hysterical. Horrible.”

  Newton rarely shared the details of his job, and Alex suddenly felt sorry for him. He’d never even considered the things such as victim identification. “Sorry, Newton. What a crap way to spend your day.”

  “You never get used to it,” he said sadly. “Anyway. Must go, and I’ll keep in touch.”

  Reuben and Alex watched him leave, and Reuben said, “Demon is a good suggestion.”

  Alex felt a heaviness settle in his stomach. “But that means someone is controlling it. I’m really hoping it’s something else.”

  “Like what? An angry spirit? A poltergeist?” Reuben looked uncertain. “Sounds dubious. And I can’t see it being anything to do with a witch.”

  Alex glanced down the bar to make sure no one was waiting to be served, and with relief noticed Zee was back, serving again. “No, hopefully not.”

  Reuben pushed his empty pint glass to Alex, and he topped it up absently, saying, “I think we should call Oswald. He’s a bit closer than us. We can see if anything odd has been happening up that way. I’ll ask Avery to call him, she’ll have time.”

  “I’ve got time!” Reuben said, looking slightly affronted.

  Alex slid his pint in front of him, and laughed. “Well yes, but you don’t have Avery’s winning ways.”

  “Are you saying I’m not charming?”

  “You know exactly what I’m saying,” Alex said, deciding to lay it out. “Your dry sarcasm and general scepticism doesn’t always win friends and confidences.”

  Reuben gave him a sly grin. “I suppose when you put it like that, maybe Avery should call him.” He paused for a second and then asked, “How is she today? She was a bit…sensitive last night.”

  “I guess sensitive is one word for it,” Alex admitted, unwilling to criticise Avery but also feeling the need to confide. He wiped the counter down, even though it was perfectly dry, and saw Reuben still watching him. He gave up. “She’s unreasonably protective of Helena. I don’t get it! I’m glad to see the back of her! Damn spooky ghost just manifesting around the flat. And I’m used to spirits!”

  “I’d hate it, too,” Reuben admitted. “And Helena did try to kill her. I’m with you. I’d put my foot down with El if she had a spirit lurking around.”

  Alex gave him a long look. “You say that, but I think we both know where she’d tell you to get off. We are both blessed with feisty women.”

  Reuben grinned. “Well, yes, but you do live there, too!”

  “It’s not that simple though, is it?” Alex said. “It would be like suggesting I get rid of the cats. I can’t! Helena isn’t just any spirit, and she has this odd sentience, too.”

  “So did Kit, but you got rid of him well enough!”

  “Yeah, well, he was actively hurting people. And Avery has a point. She has helped us in many ways since. I guess I was hoping she’d just quietly disappear, but now it seems as if she’s trapped in some kind of spirit prison.” He rolled his eyes. “Just my bloody luck! It’s like having to rescue my mother-in-law!”

  “Ha!” Reuben threw his head back and laughed. “Let’s hope you get rewarded for your services.”

  “But seriously, what’s with the gold coins? What is this, some kind of smugglers’ revenge?”

  They both stopped laughing then and Reuben’s eyes widened. “Maybe Helena’s past needs more investigation.”

  “The smuggling was well after her time!”

  “But were the Spanish?”

  Chapter 4

  Avery finished weeding her herb beds with the aid of a little magic and stepped back, pleased with her progress.

  In the last couple of weeks, since the risk of frost had gone, she’d planted lots more annual herbs, trimmed the existing ones, and had harvested some to dry. A trug was on the gravelled path next to her, filled with cuttings. She filtered through her favourite gardening spells, decided on one that was best for this occasion, and said it softly under breath. Her magic rolled around her, and she smiled as she saw her plants respond.

  Satisfied, she headed back to the patio table where they had partied the night before, pulled the phone from her pocket, and called Oswald, as Alex had asked, smiling at hearing his warm but slightly old-fashioned mannerisms.

  “Avery, I’d like to say this is a pleasure, but I sense trouble.”

  “You do?” she asked, surprised.

  “I have a sixth sense for these things sometimes, especially when I’m relaxed. Which I was. And besides, you don’t normally phone for a chat.”

  Avery felt horribly guilty for disturbing his afternoon. “I’m so sorry Oswald, but we thought you should know about the death they reported this morning.”

  He groaned. “The young man found on the beach outside Fowey? Go on.”

  Avery updated him as succinctly as possible, but as soon as she mentioned the doubloon, she felt Oswald’s excitement. “A what? How very unexpected, but exciting too! Terrible though th
is death is, the doubloon does lend an air of intrigue, and the suggestion of smuggling, dare I say!”

  “I guess so,” she said, surprised by his response. “I must admit, we thought of smuggling, too.”

  “It’s a natural assumption when you hear of treasure, and a doubloon is undoubtedly just that. We all love a pirate story, and there’s plenty of smuggling tales around here, too!”

  Avery leaned back in her chair, looking over her garden, but not really seeing it anymore. “Well, true, but a doubloon is from a couple of centuries before the smuggling industry became really big in Cornwall.”

  “But it doesn’t mean they’re not connected in some way.” He fell silent for a moment and then said, “I’m going to have to do some smuggling research.”

  “But how could that be connected to the poor man’s death? It was so violent!”

  “Early days for that, Avery, but I’ll have a think. No sign of any more treasure?”

  “Well, actually yes,” she confessed, relating the events of the night before.

  After a moment’s shocked silence, Oswald said, “That’s fascinating. And your ancestor?”

  “I got the impression she was in trouble.”

  “Well, I have no idea what to do with that,” he murmured.

  “Nor us, but we were wondering if you’ve noticed anything odd in your area lately?”

  “Nothing, but you can be sure I’ll be keeping a close watch from now on. I’ll tell Ulysses, too.”

  After they said their goodbyes, Avery headed up to the attic with her herbs, surprised by how clean it now was. Alex had done a good job, and he’d opened the windows, allowing a light breeze to drift through the room. She placed her herbs on the table, and took her time tying them together before hanging them from the rafters overhead. Then she turned to her bookshelves, looking for something on supernatural creatures.

  She pulled one book after another, but frustrated at having nothing really suitable, decided to search her shop instead. Rather than walk downstairs, she used witch-flight, and materialised in the occult section.

  It was hot and stuffy in Happenstance Books; dust motes hung in the sunshine that slanted through the windows, and yesterday’s residual incense mixed with the scent of old and new books. Avery searched the magic section, noting the new books that Sally had ordered in. There were lots of new spell books, and books on the history of witchcraft, and they continued to add to their selection regularly. Ever since Rupert had started his occult tours, they had increasing interest in witchcraft and had decided to capitalise on it. However, there was nothing that listed supernatural creatures specifically, and instead she decided to check the shelves stocking books on myths and legends, pleased when she found a few about Cornish folklore. “Bingo,” she said softly, as she pulled them from the shelves.