Elemental: The First BY ALEXANDRA MAY © Alexandra May 2012 Published by Pauma Publishing
AN URBAN SCIENCE FICTION FANTASY ALEXANDRA MAY ASSERTS THE MORAL RIGHT TO BE IDENTIFIED AS THE AUTHOR OF THIS WORK. THIS NOVEL IS ENTIRELY A WORK OF FICTION. THE PHYSICAL SETTING OF THE BOOK IS WARMINSTER IN WILTSHIRE, ENGLAND, AND CERTAIN EVENTS PORTRAYED IN THE NOVEL ACTUALLY HAPPEN IN REAL LIFE. HOWEVER THE NAMES, CHARACTERS AND INSTITUTIONS IN IT ARE THE WORK OF THE AUTHOR’S IMAGINATION. ANY RESEMBLANCE TO ACTUAL PERSONS, LIVING OR DEAD IS ENTIRELY COINCIDENTAL. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. No part of this e-book/publication may be reproduced, extracted, photocopied, recorded or otherwise circulated without the prior permission of the author. Alexandra May can be contacted at www.alexandramay.co.uk OR BY EMAIL AT
[email protected]
Praise for Elemental: The First This book has left me completely and utterly astonished! It will draw you in with its suspense and romance, and once you finish, it will leave you begging for book two. - Haley @ YA-AHOLIC Book Blog For me, this is YA at its finest. There was drama, intrigue, and mystery, romance without smut, betrayal, and friendships. I would highly recommend this book to anyone and everyone - Ellen - Goodreads Member Everything about this book was unpredictable. I was amazed at how the writing immediately drew me in. - Uputdownablebooks Book Blog I could not put this book down. I literally gasped out in shock at points. I'm so excited for the next book in the Primord series. I have a feeling it will get better and better and who doesn’t love that! - Graceful Reads Book Blog This is a tale full of mystery and intrigue, by the end I was wondering just who Rose could trust. - Book Monster Reviews Elemental: The First is not one to be missed out on. Awesome characters, thrilling plot and very intense relationships….what’s not to like. - Book Passion for Life Book Blog What a twist of a book. I was honestly expecting one thing and got something completely different, something amazing, and so original. - Airicka Phoenix Blog The story line is awesome; I loved the mystery aspect of it. I was so disappointed when I finished, I didn’t want the book to end! - Alexis Chronicles Book Blog This book was amazing! The author really grabbed your attention right away. I was really intrigued by the story and I can’t wait to read the sequel. - Rather Barefoot than Bookless Book Blog
And before the race is built anew, a silver serpent comes to view and spew out men of like unknown, to mingle with the earth now grown cold from its heat and these men, can enlighten the minds of future man to intermingle and show them how, to live and love and thus endow. the children with the second sight. A natural thing so that they might grow graceful, humble and when they do, the golden age will start anew. Mother Mary Shipton – Prophecies
Table of Contents Prologue 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 Elemental: The Circle of Fire (Primord Series #2) Author’s Note
- PROLOGUE Present day The cavernous room was windowless. The lights, higher up the tall walls, were ineffectual as the seven seated men stared into the gloomy shadows. They sat at a rectangular wooden table, a lone candelabrum their only source of authentic light. Only one chair remained empty. The cloaked and hooded men waited, no one spoke. The only sounds being the occasional breath, omitting a warm mist against the dank cold room, or the creak of a wooden chair, so long unused. The men were in a dungeon, and they were all impatient. The reluctant hinges on the upstairs heavy iron door squealed, the thunderous boot steps audible on the open stone stairs. The large hooded man walked assertively down the short flight into the dark room and took his place in the empty position. “Gentlemen,” his voice echoed loudly in the empty hollow. “We must act fast and act quickly. Now is the time. Our reckoning. We must decide our fate now before it is too late. I have just heard, through my source, that the last of my kind is on the way, a young girl. As you know, she will look older than her young years, and has not integrated into her new form yet. Much about this girl is unknown; she has been protected well by her keepers.” The man looked into the black hoods of his silent conspirators and continued relentlessly. “But this is a new age, the 21st century, a new dawn of time. Do we continue along our path, reaping the rewards that fall our way, or do we disappear quietly like petals in a wind with our quest unfinished?” He looked into each face, waiting for some sign, a reaction, an eyebrow raise, or a nod. He received nothing in return. The hidden faces were still and silent. He persisted anxiously. “I am not afraid of her. She will be young, inexperienced, and vulnerable. She will be no threat to us. Gentlemen, you have been my advisors, my counsel, but most importantly, my friends. You know that our unity has brought us thus far. We have been together since my own integration, and I value your loyalty. But, please, you must think hard. We are in touching distance of our destiny; it is almost the end. “It is in our grasp. The final conflict. And once we kill the first Elemental before her integration, we end the bloodline once and for all. Halíka Dacomé has been our greatest enemy during these millennia. For all her goodness and peacekeeping, she is now at her most vulnerable and most defenceless in her form as the human child, this girl. Our two are the last remaining bloodlines of the four. Once she is gone, it will be ended and there will be nothing standing in our way to our ultimate goal. The last bloodline, my bloodline, will endure and soon everything we have fought for will be ours. This is our final chance to rid the world of its pestilence, the virus that lives and breathes. But we must strike soon. If we allow her integration, our whole purpose, our whole quest will falter, and I cannot allow that to happen. It must not. This is the time, gentlemen, and I need your decision now.” He crashed his clenched fist to the table, its echo pounding off the dense walls. He was feeling euphoric, his blood running hot as he finished. Despite the cool chill in the air, he felt sweat beads on his brow and he passed a casual hand to wipe it. “Benedict,” said an older calm voice, beside the speaker. “I have lived long enough to know that, now, in these present times, we cannot continue. There is no point going on. I am an old man. I would rather live the rest of my life in peace than know Halíka Dacomé may be coming for me. I have no reason to wish this young girl harm. She is the same age as my granddaughter and I could never forgive myself. Let it be.” There was a whispered agreement from several of the other men. Benedict looked to his left at the man. “I hear what you’re saying, Dunbar, but need I remind you of the peril that Halíka Dacomé once put your family in? She may be a young girl now but in a few weeks and months, she will be powerful. She is not ordinary in any way, and you have grown soft if you think of her that way. She killed your first wife and your first child. Will their deaths be in vain?”
Dunbar sat quietly for a moment, deep in thought. “What’s past is past, and maybe what happened was justified. She fought us and we fought back, and ultimately my family paid the price. Many of our families did, but no worse than we did to the other Elementals. It was the actions of our ancestors that sent the Elementals into hiding. We were lucky to find the first two, to find them and to end them, but it took 740 years of pain and suffering.” Dunbar wheezed a shallow breath and coughed lightly, looking down. Jacob stood. His chair scraped the floor as it slid back. “Benedict, no one here dare say this but I shall. Halíka Dacomé has always been within our grasp, but you didn’t act in time, and instead chose your own path, against our wishes, I might add. When you stripped Daisy Frost’s force of power, you acted selfishly, and put us all in danger. You coveted her, and she bargained with you. Was the life of your grandson worth it?” Jacob said, his tone acidic. “How can you ask me that?” Benedict scoffed. “My grandson is my legacy. I don’t doubt that you all thought it foolhardy, but my agenda was not to end his life.” “But that’s the bargain you made. She begged you. You would have killed her and then finished him. That would have left you all alone. You could have had your dream there and then. No more Elementals. No more destinies. The Four Primordial powers would all have been yours. But you couldn’t do it, you failed, and now there is this young girl, who will become Halíka Dacomé, and will soon be let loose upon us all. Do you really believe that after all these years, once their memories integrate, she won’t be after a little redemption? A little payback? She’s been neutered, kept captive. When she returns she will be more dangerous than ever, and the fact that she’ll be in a young body will only make things worse. She’ll be faster, stronger, and her taste for our blood will be…” “That’s why it has to be now,” Benedict shouted. “Don’t you understand? We have to act now, and soon.” “No,” another man stood. “Let it go. Let it be. I have a nice life away from all of this. I will not see more slaughter. It’s over.” “Andrew Orelian, I never took you for a coward,” Benedict gasped. “You might live a cosy existence in South America now but you are the youngest of us all. You alone should understand why this has to be done.” “Why?” Andrew answered. “Because I had nothing before all of this? Because you helped me when I left the orphanage, clothed me and gave me a purpose when I had little else? No, above all things, this life has made me realise that our war should end and this young girl deserves a chance at life, even more than us. I will not agree to this. And neither will your grandson.” “My grandson is well aware of the ultimate price. He knows what he must do. I have taught him well enough and he will do as I say.” “No, Benedict, he won’t,” Andrew continued. “He won’t because he’s been brought up in a different life than we had. We had to fight and claw and grasp for everything that we have now. He isn’t like us, and you need to know that.” “My grandson will do as I dictate. He will be like us, and so will his Seven. I have ensured it,” Benedict said confidently. “You mean you’ve brainwashed him?” “No, I’ve educated him.” “Well, I don’t want any part of it. Not now, not in the future.” Andrew sat again, a chill crept down his spine at the notion, but he refused to take his gaze from Benedict’s angered face. “Nor me,” another voice said.
“Nor me,” Dunbar concurred. “You thought you had won, and in time you might have eliminated the bloodlines leaving yours alone. Until the birth of this girl. When she was born everything changed. Don’t you see? They got clever and they evaded us at every stage, and are still evading us. I say this with the best intentions, Benedict, for your own good. You cannot continue down this path.” From the table end, Simon scratched his chin and said nervously. “Do you realise how much danger we’re all in if this ever gets out? These are new times, not the old days. Do you know, gentlemen, that there are references to us even on the Internet? The police only have to find one piece of our DNA and any one of us could be implicated in any number of the bad things we’ve done. With today’s scientific analysis we cannot be as thorough as the past. I, for one, would like to sleep at night knowing I’m going to wake up in the morning, and not be murdered where I lay by Halíka Dacomé. She is not a killer. She will only attack if she is provoked and you must not forget that she has allies, too. They will be powerful enough. We cannot continue. It is too dangerous.” “Simon Perayan, her allies are mostly children! And a few ragtag adults who have been privy to our secret. They can’t beat us.” “With all due respect, Benedict, we don’t know exactly who her allies are. None of us does. Daisy Frost is known in many circles, in higher echelons that we have little knowledge of.” Benedict looked dismayed. “So, am I to understand that you all feel this way?” The room echoed with one word, its source masked as the black hooded men spoke at once. “Yes.” Benedict stood up from his chair and overshadowed the table. His hood slipped back revealing his short grey hair, which shone from the faint light above. His expression was pensive, his jawline taut as he clenched his teeth, and his eyes became ever angrier, darting from one face to another. He stood tall as the other men appeared to shrink slightly where they sat. “Then our union is over and our House will fall. We have fought our battles and now we are running. How shameful. For thousands of years my ancestors have battled against the rest of the Elementals, defeating them over and over again, as was our right. Finally we have a chance at grasping our prize.” Benedict’s voice now boomed over the heads of the men. They all stood up in unison, chairs scraping, fear and trepidation filling the air. The man called Dunbar spoke. “We have no wish to fight any longer. These are not times as before. Our time is now futile, but precious. Let us grow old in peace. The world has moved on, whereas ‘we’ have not. The Elementals, now and future ones, should be left alone to comply with their own duties. God knows they are needed. You should pass your power onto your heir and leave it in the hands of his fate.” “I agree, Benedict,” said Bartholomew. “This is over. We will carry on as if nothing has happened and our alliance never existed. I agree with Dunbar that it is time for your grandson to take control. We are all too old to continue, as are you, Benedict. You don’t have the stealth or agility that you did sixty years ago. How would you beat Halíka Dacomé in her new form?” “I will find a way. There is always a way!” Benedict’s eyes were bursting with fury, his euphoric demeanour changed to anger and ferocity. “What will you do?” Bartholomew asked. Benedict was quiet for a moment. In truth he had not been surprised by this outcome; he had seen it coming for months. “I shall continue the fight. I will not give in so easily. I will find the girl, and kill her. As you have said, my friends, these are new times, and science has advanced in leaps and bounds. Now I will find a way to make sure Halíka Dacomé stays dead this time. The age of the Primord Elementals is over.” He strode past them, upright and poised, his confident steps not waning as he walked up the stairs and out of the room. Present Day - West Wiltshire, England It was the beginning of August. Rose opened the car window wider, leaning out with her eyes closed, feeling the rushing breeze on her face. The raging sun was like a furnace in the sky, its burning
rays filtering down. She breathed in a full deep breath, alleviating the anxiety that had built up, finally feeling the freedom that their exodus was nearly over. She leaned back in the passenger seat, sipping from a bottle of water. The air in the car had been intolerable, hot and clammy for most of the five-hour drive. Rose ran her right index finger lightly under the curve of her bracelet, wiping away the moisture where the metal had rubbed against her skin. On the inside of her wrist, the two prongs stung as the blood pumped harder around her body in the heat. She didn’t complain. “Are they still following us?” Rose said quietly to her mother, who peered intensely into the rearview mirror and shook her head. “No, I think we’re safe now,” her mother said softly, but her lips were rigid, pursed closed, her jaw clenched. She accelerated a little more and the car surged forward along the empty road, the distance to their end lessening as the minutes passed. Rose’s mother, Dahlia, was a woman of few words but Rose could feel her mother’s apprehension. Once they reached their destination, it would not be over. This torrid journey was only the beginning. Every element of Rose’s body ached from being immobile too long. Her long, lean legs needed stretching, already aching from idleness. Her throat was parched from breathing the dry, searing air, no matter how much she drank. Her stomach growled again in hunger. Pushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear, Rose looked back out the window. Her long copper locks were frequently tied back away from her bright emerald-green eyes. Her heart-shaped face was faintly impish, her cheeks flushed slightly with the heat, pale pink hinting through cream-soft skin. Her lips were redder now; she had to keep licking them to prevent dryness in the warmth and it was making them sore. Rose was pretty to look at, but through her own eyes, her sister Amy was the one who stood out from the crowd. Amy always received more attention, stray looks and compliments from boys at their previous schools. Her Mediterranean look, the thick, brown, wavy hair, warm brown eyes and olive skin, made other girls pale by comparison. To Rose, Amy was the prettiest, and she envied her but would never admit it. Now Amy was gone, and Rose felt her heart pang at the thought of being separated permanently from her sister for the first time. There had only been one other occasion, when Amy, at fourteen years old, had spent a week in France on a school holiday. The sisters had drifted apart as they grew older. Times changed and they both grew up, heading in different directions, different friends. They had very little in common. But even now Rose already missed her big sister. This was a stressful time for all the family. A new move always was. Rose’s new home was in the southern county of Wiltshire, England. Weird Wiltshire as it was sometimes called. Crop circles, Stonehenge, and abandoned villages were a few examples of the mystic West, and the isolated town of Warminster, Rose’s new home, was on the perimeter of the Salisbury Plain, a 300-mile expanse of grassland rich in history, archaeology, and mystery. Warminster itself was well known for its army base, which had been established before the Second World War, and for the UFO stories passed down through generations. Rose had scanned the Internet extensively in the few weeks before the move date, intrigued by her new home. Even now her copy of Wiltshire Myths and Legends was in her backpack by her feet. Somehow the stories seemed more relevant now as she observed the passing Wiltshire countryside for the first time. How the deep blue sky met the brown earth making the horizon shimmer. The conjoining fields resembled a giant mosaic with their multi-tones of green, yellow, and brown. The contoured edges lined with hedgerow and trees that spread out for miles in all directions. Not a house was in sight and not a building close by. This remote part of England was extraordinary and intriguing. Rose was anxious to reach the end of this journey.
It would be just Rose this time. The family was separating for two years. Jeff, Rose’s father, had an assignment overseas, somewhere in the Middle East, and her mother would be joining him. They had been advised that it would be far too dangerous for the whole family to relocate and Rose didn’t like the thought of an international school abroad. Amy would spend the next year completing her A levels, living under the guardianship of the college Head. It was her final year so it would have been unfair on Amy to move. To Amy’s delight, she had been given the best room at the college, with its own kitchen and study area. The free access to the Internet and phone had also not gone unnoticed. Jeff and Dahlia would be keeping an eye on Amy, whether she liked it or not. And so Rose was moving in to her grandmother’s house. It was only vague holiday memories that Rose recalled of her grandmother, and she had never known her grandfather. When Daisy Frost had offered her granddaughter a place to stay, Rose’s parents had not been enthused by the idea, but Daisy had insisted that it was no trouble and was relishing the chance to know her granddaughter again. Rose was not entirely sure what her parents enmity was towards her grandma, but there had been a falling out sometime through the years, resulting in summer holidays spent elsewhere instead of with the only other family member that Rose knew. Rose had been only ten years old when she last said goodbye but her memories had been happy ones. Dahlia had indicated that living with Daisy would be interesting. Daisy was a social go-getter and had an uncanny knack of bringing people together. Within a week, Rose was to expect dinner invitations, coffee morning requests, and shopping trips. The thought of it made Rose smile. Her grandmother was not the typical frail old lady figure, and from what Rose could gather, Daisy seemed to attend more social events than the Queen of England herself. Dahlia and Rose had had a “talk” prior to the move. Rose was sensible and very mature for her age. She knew about healthy eating, about keeping fit, and getting enough sleep. She’d studied selfdefence with extra kick-boxing sessions whenever there had been an hour to spare, but this time Rose had insisted on one vital clause, as was her right. She wanted her independence. Living with Daisy would be fulfilling all her needs. But Rose wanted to play music loud if she wanted, and to invite friends over or go out without having to ask permission every time. Surely she could be trusted to do these small things now? She didn’t want to be nagged about homework or staying out late, and most of all she didn’t want to be dragged around by her grandmother. Daisy had understood. Rose’s mother had duly provided her with a new touch-screen mobile phone complete with video camera for emergencies only, Dahlia had insisted. Rose had been ecstatic. They had all agreed that from now on, it would be about trust. Her grandmother would trust her to act mature and make grown-up decisions, and Rose would trust Daisy not to be overbearing. If either of them went too far over the line or faltered, they would renegotiate. Rose had never been a wild child, and whilst the popular girls, her so-called peers, might have been drinking and smoking behind the caretaker’s office at school, she always had the attitude that there was more to life. In ten years, was that the kind of thing she wanted to remember of her school days? Or did she want to be a little proud of what she had achieved? Her precious few school friends had all been inclined the same way, too, so school reports had always been good and exam results exemplary. This had worked in her favour. In five weeks’ time, Rose would begin the arduous task of starting at a new school, meeting new friends, forming bonds, and basically beginning her life again. It was her fourth senior school in five years, so she felt like a veteran at it now. At least she knew this was the last time as she would be studying her A levels. For Rose it was a new moment in time, a new glass shard in the mosaic that was her life. Only this time things would be different. Her name was Rose Frost. She was just sixteen years seven days old, and she knew on that journey, somehow, life would never be the same again.
- CHAPTER ONE FOR MY SIXTEENTH BIRTHDAY, my father bought me a diary. I remember my quizzical expression when I opened it, and fingered through the blank pages of the dark leather-bound book. I had never kept a diary before; there had always been enough photos and videos taken when I was young to remember our past. “It’s for when you’re living at Daisy’s. Each night I want you to write in it. Your experiences, your dreams, everything you do that day. It will be a great reminder for you when you finally come back to us.” He hugged me closely, kissing my hair. I never had dreams, not real ones that I could remember, anyway. I just hoped that my days would be eventful enough to at least fill a few pages. My grandmother had bought me a first edition of Wiltshire Myths and Legends, which was appropriate. Every night since my birthday, I had been enthralled by the stories of King Sil of Silbury Hill, the headless horsewoman of Savernake Forest, the Roman legions who march halfway under the ground at Edington, and the story of mysterious birds that fell out of the sky in Warminster. I always loved stories as a small girl. My father would read Greek mythology or Norse tales, while my mother had preferred Winnie the Pooh, or even Harry Potter as I grew older. Amy hadn’t bought me a present but I didn’t mind. She handed me a card and shrugged. Her mood had been strange, sometimes wildly overfriendly, and other times her look would scare me. I had no idea why she was so flippant, and my parents seemed not to notice. Knowing that Mum had already given me a new mobile phone, I hadn’t expected anything else. But that night, after we celebrated with dinner at a restaurant and then a movie, I was in bed and writing my first diary pages about my birthday when she came in and sat beside me. My mother was a quiet person, loving to all of us but somehow quietly sad. I wondered whether it had something to do with our constant moving, or her worry about my father’s job. But this night her eyes were kind as she reached for my hand and stroked it gently. “Rose, you are so special. We love you so much and soon we’ll all be divided, so I want to give you this to remind you of us.” She reached down and lifted her left sleeve, revealing the double-bangle silver bracelet that she always wore. In fact, I don’t think I ever saw her without it. She unfastened the two anchored clasps from the inside of her wrist and the two bar bangles opened at the sides like bird wings opening to take flight, one upper and one lower. She held it tenderly in her hand, rubbing the silver metal. Her eyes sparkled in the light of my side lamp, and she smiled. She was so pretty when she smiled. “This is yours now. You must never take it off. This one was given to me by my grandmother, and she had it from her grandmother, too. It’s our family heirloom and is one of a pair.” “But, Mum, I can’t take it if it means so much to you,” I said weakly. “No, Rose. This is something that must be passed on. I received this on my sixteenth birthday, and Daisy has one also that she was given on the same birthday.” “But what about Amy? Shouldn’t she have it?” Amy was, after all, the oldest; it stood to reason. “No, Rose, this is yours. No one else’s. Here, give me your left wrist.” I held out my arm. She placed the bracelet upon it, and the wings closed on either side. The two bars were a perfect fit. She twisted my arm so my wrist was facing up. “Now, this may sting a little but don’t cry. And whatever you do, don’t take it off. Not even when you bathe.”
Her fingers pushed the two anchors down. At that moment, a surge of pain shot up my arm. On each anchor was a metal pin, small and only about a centimetre in length. They pierced my skin and dug down in between the two bones that jutted through the surface of my forearm. The blue veins of my inner wrist, thin and weblike, thickened and pulsed their way through the thin epidermis. I bit my lip as the pain seared for another few seconds before it died down. The veins returned to their normal state. I cleared my throat. “I don’t understand. Why did you wear it if it hurt so much? What kind of bracelet is it?” I choked back. “Rose, it is our inheritance, and we must endure what our mothers and grandmothers endured. Soon you will understand. This bracelet will help you see better. You’ll find out soon enough. I think Daisy will help you understand more than I. When you live with her, you’ll be able to ask her yourself.” “What do you mean by helping me ‘see’ better?” I whispered. I twisted my wrist around; the strange bracelet felt comfortable and I barely noticed the metal pins now, just a faint tingling sensation. “You know that my eyesight is better than anyone’s.” “Ask Daisy, it’s better for her to explain,” my mum answered, closing the subject. “Now, sleep well, sweetheart.” She leaned forward and kissed me lightly on my cheek, and then left my room. That night was the first night I dreamt, in full colour, and in the morning, I remembered everything. We had argued during the car journey, when we weren’t desperately trying to lose the two cars that had followed us for much of the trip. Mum was a great driver, and the silver Honda saloon car we had borrowed seemed to enjoy the speed as we eluded the two black Mercedes again and again, then permanently. Since my birthday I had dreamed every night, and they were always similar. One recurring dream was of running. Ironically, I loved running but in this dream, I was being chased by an unknown entity. In others I had flashes, images of faces, though the events I never understood. The dreams weren’t always pleasant, either. A ring of fire was frequent; I was at its centre, alone and scared with no way out. Such strange dreams. I was beginning to fear sleep. Twice my mum had asked me, in the time before we left our old house, how the bracelet was feeling. I smiled and said fine. Dad knew of it, but didn’t mention it, and Amy just shrugged as if she’d been left out of the world’s biggest secret but didn’t care either way. I expected her to kick up a fuss about the present but she didn’t. But that wasn’t what Mum and I argued about on the journey. We argued, stupidly, because I couldn’t remember where Daisy lived. I was convinced she was nearer the town but Mum reminded me that Daisy lived in the country. I knew I was being stupid, like Amy in one of her moods, but this was a big change for me. I hated not remembering. “It’s behind Cradle Hill, near the golf course,” Mum overstressed the words. “Do you remember where Cradle Hill is? We used to walk up there to watch the sunsets and wait for shooting stars.” “Yes, I remember. It’s in the middle of nowhere! Behind the town on the left. There’s probably not even a bus to get into town, is there?” “Don’t be like that. It’s not that far out. You can walk it in ten minutes. She’s renovated the old house since we were last there, and opened up most of the rooms. And the gardens are extensive, with a few acres of land. You know how much you enjoy gardens. You’ll love it when you see it,” she said as if in confirmation. Still unconvinced, we arrived into Warminster town and I quietly moaned as we passed along the high street, past the clothes shops. Mum steered through town and turned left onto a quiet lane behind. Buildings, houses, and warehouses began to get fewer as the country ebbed closer. My dismay was deepening. “Warminster is smaller than I remember,” I muttered. Mum frowned in annoyance; I could tell as soon as I spoke I had nearly reached the height of her tolerance threshold.
“Rose-Marie, stop being childish. After the journey we’ve had, you’re lucky I’m an expert driver. Warminster is safe for you. It’s the one place you can hide. They won’t follow you here.” “But why would they follow me? I don’t understand. I thought it was Dad they wanted.” “It is, but they’ll look for all of us. Why do you think we’ve made sure that Amy is under constant watch every hour of the day? Huh? The same goes for you. Warminster is rural, out of the way. They won’t expect to find you here, and you’ll be safeguarded.” “How is that possible when they could come from anywhere?” “Daisy has assured me that it’s fine, and for once, I have to believe her, okay? Listen, Daisy has a car, and she’ll take you wherever you want to go.”. “But she’s seventy if she’s a day. Is she supposed to be driving still?” I said. “And what if I want to be out late? How will I get home? Walk?” “Rose. Daisy is aware of your … requests. She wants nothing more than for you to be happy here. Just ask her nicely and give her advance warning,” Mum continued. “She’s willing to be flexible if you are. She’s making a great sacrifice for us. She hasn’t seen you in years and wants to get to know you properly.” “Okay, I’ll give it a shot, but I’m going to phone you if it’s not working out,” I grumbled. I began twisting a lock of stray hair around my finger, a nervous tic borne of irritation. This journey had been nerve-racking enough. “That’s all I ask. Don’t forget your old friends that are here, either. You remember Mira? She’s still around apparently. And the other girl, what was her name?” Mum tried to recollect whilst changing down a gear and slowing the car’s speed. “Hannah,” I remembered. “I haven’t seen them since I was ten. They won’t know me.” “No, they won’t. But you won’t know them, either, though I bet they’ll want to see you. You always saw them during school holidays and had fun.” I had been particularly friendly with Mira (short for Miranda), but in my mind she still had freckles, two bunches of brown hair and buck teeth like a rabbit. Hannah, on the other hand, had not been so much a friend as a loner who tagged along with us. A slightly heavier girl, once Mira and I had locked her in a room at the old derelict orphanage on the other side of town and we’d whispered using scary voices through the keyhole. When we finally grew bored and unbarred the door, the psychological trauma was enough to send Hannah running back to her parents in tears. Mira and I had laughed for a while in our spite but suffered from a severe reprimand by our parents later. The memory wasn’t a happy one and I still felt ashamed of my childhood antics. From that day onwards, I tried never to utter a nasty word to anyone, and even if I had wanted to, my shame would always have been greater. As we slowly drove over the brow of the hill I could see the house for the first time, naked and solitary. The small area in the vicinity of the house appeared to be walled, like my own little Alcatraz. Perfect. The surrounding fields were all grassy green and filled with wildflowers, poppies, daisies, and buttercups, with thick hedgerow marking the borders of one field to another. Across from one of these fields, Mum slowed the car and we halted at a set of high solid black wrought iron gates. The entrance was as I expected, foreboding, prison-like, with no view of the house. I chuckled as I spied a security camera and barbed wire fencing on top of the high wall. “A lot of crime around here?” I asked. “Daisy has more high-tech equipment than I saw in the whole of Manchester.” I was exaggerating, of course, but the point had to be made. My mum glanced at me but didn’t answer.
The gates opened slowly and we drove through. We carried on down a gravelled driveway that sliced a large green lawn in two, but no one had prepared me as we stopped in front of the largest old house I’d ever seen. When I say old, I mean ark-like old. I’d been to Bramhall Hall in Cheshire so I knew what an old place looked like. This was much older: two floors high at least, possibly a third if the small windows in the roof were additional rooms. My eyes lingered on the Gothic grey stones of the large protruding porch, decorated with gargoyles, sheltering the white wooden front door, the porch roof balanced equally each side with a stone column. Flower boxes edged the columns, and yellow honeysuckle climbed a twin trellis fixed against the porch’s exterior wall. The smell was enchanting. The windows of the house, on either side of the porch, seemed to cascade each way for fifty metres at least. Large, decorated with tiny panes of glass and crisscrossing metal stripes from top to bottom. To the right of the house sat a garage with two closed large metal doors. “Wow, this is not what I expected. I don’t remember her house being so huge! Daisy lives here alone? Unreal!” “See? I knew you’d like it here!” Mum seemed to explode in delight at my comment. Outside the car, I stretched my legs, the relief instant in my leg muscles after the arduous journey. I looked up. “It’s amazing!” I sucked in a breath of awe before I turned back to help my mum get the cases from the car. I had bought a lot of luggage, not wanting to be without any of my more personal possessions. The majority of my things had been shipped on ahead. As my mother heaved out the last suitcase, the white front door opened and my grandmother emerged. She was a tall, sturdy lady with white short hair, cut into a tidy bob. Her face, hardly wrinkled at all, was kind, clearly happy we had arrived. Funny, she was exactly as I remembered; she hadn’t aged much. “Rose!” she exclaimed and came towards me with open arms. Her hug was warm and tight and I smelled a familiar floral fragrance on her blue silk blouse. She held my shoulders at arm’s length and gazed at me closely. I looked into her sparkly grey eyes that held the same clarity as my own. “Just look at you!” she exclaimed again. “You’ve grown very beautiful. I’m so glad you’re here; we’re going to be great friends. And please, call me Daisy. No more Grandma or Grandmother—that just make me feel old.” She laughed as she talked and I noticed a slight cringe as she said the word “grandma.” “Okay … Daisy,” I tried the words out, and they felt comfortable. I smiled. It was much easier than saying “grandma,” even though that’s what I’d always called her. She let me go, moving to hug my mother but I noticed their welcome was cool, chilly almost. Neither smiled or seemed pleased to see one another. Kind of odd, considering. “Rose,” Daisy said, “why don’t you go and find your room while I chat with your mother? Do you remember where it is? At the top of the stairs, turn left and it’s the last door. You have the garden view you so liked as a child. I thought you could keep the same room. I hope you like it.” “Okay,” I replied, half-wanting to stay but really wanting to check out the house and my room, which would be my indefinite sanctuary. I carried my bag and a small case through the porch to the hall area. Now this I remembered. Amy and I used to slide along this floor in our socks, again and again, to see who could slide the farthest. The black and white polished tiles hinted of old, leading directly to the wide stone central stairway, which was older. In the corner to the left, beside the living room door, rested an old grandfather clock, with its intricately carved door and carefully balanced pendulum, which was still swinging. I had often stared at it as a child, trying to learn the roman numerals on the clock face and then jumping when the hour hand pointed north and the chime pealed out.
On the other side of the door was the matching lattice-door sideboard with the house phone atop and some notepaper. Across the hallway on the other side stood a white marble statue of a woman. Whether Roman or Greek, I had no idea, but the stonemason had carved her beautifully in her flowing gown. Around her neck hung a torc necklace, the ends round and balanced on her collarbone. Her arms by her side, in one hand she held a book with the letters “HD” ornately carved. I wondered if she had some history with the house or if Daisy had picked her up at an auction. I headed up the stairway, along the corridor, passing other doors while the huge windows on my right looked out onto the front garden and driveway. I could see my mother and Daisy, still deep in conversation. At the last door on the left, I recollected the dark wood with polished brass handle. It opened with a creak. The room was much bigger than I thought with huge three-panelled, almost floor-to-ceiling arched windows. The original stonework showed through the decorated room beautifully. It was like an old chapel. The light-coloured curtains on each side of the windows were tied back, hanging to the floor. I wasn’t a fan of curtains, preferring natural dark and light, so I doubted they would be used much. From the smell I could tell the walls had recently been painted, the pale yellow bringing a luminous hue to the room. On the left wall sat empty wooden shelves above a long desk similar to a workbench. There would be enough room for my computer and schoolbooks. On the right side of the room the large packing boxes were piled high against a bare wall – evidently my things had arrived. It seemed odd at first, but in the centre of the room and in front of the wide window was a wrought iron double bed. I quickly realised why it wasn’t pushed to the wall. I could lie in bed, propped up by the four pillows, and stare at the glorious view ahead of me now. The hedges and fields looked like a quilt of golds and greens disappearing over the horizon. I sat down for a moment and gazed at the view. My previous houses had been on estates or cul-de-sacs. The most I knew of countryside was staying at Daisy’s through my holidays. I stared into the distance and then my vision lowered to the back garden. Climbing flowers, trees, and colourful shrubs had been carefully planted down the sides of lawn. I wouldn’t have been exaggerating if I said it was the size of four tennis courts. At the end of the garden was a small cottage, which I didn’t recall. Surrounded by conifers to bar the view, the cottage looked no bigger than a summer house. It lacked evidence that anyone lived there, and while the grey bricks looked old, the terracotta tiled roof shone new and clear of mildew and moss in the sunlight. Around the entire perimeter of the garden and house, but somewhat at a distance, was the high solid wall. Beige in colour, its expanse carried in either direction as far as I could see. My mum had said that Daisy owned acres, so Daisy must own the land behind the wall, too. There were no other houses in the view, so I had been right in my earlier assumptions. I was in the middle of nowhere. I moaned as any potential social life ebbed away into an abyss. But then I cursed myself for the selfishness, remembering that at least I’d be safe. I dumped my things quickly and headed back downstairs. Daisy and my mother were still talking by the car. “So, how do you like it?” Daisy said. “It’s lovely, thank you, Daisy.” “Well, I’ll leave you two alone. I’ll be in the conservatory, Rose,” she said. She kissed my mother on the cheek and left us. “Is everything all right?” I asked. “Rose, I have to go,” my mother said. “I’m driving straight to Heathrow Airport to meet your father. We’re flying this evening. I’m sorry, sweetheart.” I looked into her face and saw the same sadness Tears stung my eyes. Her hug enveloped me and for a moment I wished to stay like this forever. “Daisy will take care of you and I’m on the end of a phone whenever you need me. Please remember that,” she said.
I drew back; the tears had already slipped down my cheeks. “This is really it, then. When will I see you again?” I asked quietly, trying to control the trembling emotions in my voice. “As soon as I can, I’ll come back.” She was trying to reassure me, but I knew that flights from the Middle East were not only long but pricey, too. It wasn’t like jumping on a bus or a train. And in that moment I accepted the sacrifice we were all making. I accepted the distance would not only be painful for me but for them also, and for Amy. I accepted that now I really was going to be on my own with a grandmother I barely knew, in a strange home and a strange new town, where I knew no one really. I accepted it and drew strength from it. I imagined my life as a small onion, the layers peeled away. Amy had been the first to say goodbye, one layer, shortly followed by my father, another layer. Now my mother, the final layer, and I was left in the centre, small and vulnerable. Most of all, alone. But I grew bold, brave, and felt a surge of courage I didn’t know was there. “We’ll all be okay, Mum, you’ll see,” I assured her. “And I’ll phone and e-mail every day.” She laughed and brushed my hair lightly with her fingers. “Make it every week, agreed?” “Okay, I promise.” “You’re a good girl, Rose. You’ve always been the strong one!” she smiled widely, relief in her gaze. She leaned forward and kissed my forehead. “Now, Rose, Listen to me carefully. Keep your secret safe. Don’t use your gift if you don’t have to, and never use it outside these grounds. You don’t know who could be watching. Nobody outside our family must know. Only Daisy, but not anyone else, do you understand? Not yet. You are more special than you can ever imagine, sweetheart, but you have to stay hidden. Be careful with your friends. Don’t trust anyone too much, and call me any time you want, okay?” she whispered. “Do you understand what I’m saying, Rose?” I nodded and squeezed her hand as she pulled it out and away. I guess this was why staying with Daisy seemed to be the right choice. I was hidden away where no one could find me. What everyone else outside my family didn’t know was that I’d been born different, a freak. I don’t know why or how, but one day I would find out. My eyesight was better than most. I could see perfectly and sometimes more. I could zoom in on distant objects and clearly identify markings or colours. When my mum had given me her bracelet and said it would help me see better, I hadn’t understood her, but it wasn’t seeing with eyes she meant. I knew that much. My hearing was more acute as was my sense of smell, but the remarkable thing about my gift was my ability to heal. Well, I called it healing but my dad called it “bringing back life.” Whatever the difference was, I didn’t care. I practised alone, sometimes with plants and flowers, patches of dead grass and small bushes that had been parched from lack of water. This was why I loved gardens so much; there was always something small that needed my help. My mother had often told me that her pregnancy with me had been easy—no morning sickness, no cravings, not even any unsightly stretch marks. Her weight gain had been minimal, so it had been a surprise when I was four weeks early. It was the only time when I had pained my mother and after two hours of laborious pushing, I finally came out screaming for air and food. From the beginning, my childhood had been illness-free, and while the other school kids had weeks off for chickenpox or mumps, I’d never contracted anything. I didn’t know what it felt like to break a bone. Sure, I’d scratched and cut myself during falls or scrapes, but the wounds healed quickly, leaving no trace. In fact, I don’t recall ever catching a cold. When my family was stricken with some ailment, usually the yearly flu epidemic, I often sat with them while they rested, holding their hands, and they soon recovered within a few hours.
My parents first noticed these abilities when I was six. They sat with me and insisted I had to keep it secret. I was forbidden to tell anyone, or even help anyone. But what did a six-year-old know? To me it was all a game and I often slipped. Once, when I was eight, during school athletics a friend had been practising long jump. She landed in the sand pit oddly and while the teacher ran for the nearest phone, I put my hands on her ankle and straightened it out. When the teacher returned, the girl carried on as normal, her leg completely recovered. The other girls who had crowded around the injured girl noticed nothing untoward, but the teacher phoned my dad later that afternoon. Soon after the incident, Dad was offered another job so we moved from the area. The only side effect of my gift was that I could harm with it, too. Once Amy kept a pet rabbit. He was getting old and after a while began to refuse food. Amy was sad; she knew he would die soon, so while my family watched TV, I quietly slipped out into the garden to the rabbit hutch. I hoped my healing fingers would help to give him a few more years, but at my first touch, it fell on its side and died. I cried in my room alone that night. When Amy found the dead rabbit, she was so traumatised that we never owned another family pet. I never admitted openly to what I’d done and from that day, I rarely used my gift to heal, except in a garden on plants or flowers. I couldn’t bear it if I hurt anything or anyone. A rabbit on my conscience was one thing. I knew hurting a person would be more painful than I could ever imagine. I always knew that my gift, my ability, came from my blood. Sometimes I could feel it pumping around my body so loudly, it was almost deafening. Whenever I used my gift, I closed my eyes and internally called on it, and then watched as the silvery grey tendrils flickered out from my fingers to wrap themselves around my subject, drawing the badness out, and expelling it into the air before I withdrew the power back inside. The sensation was nice initially, tingly almost, but pleasant. The badness often stung, barbed and raw, but the pain was worth it, and I was often awed by the beautiful aftermath. But now I was back in Warminster, hiding from those who would do me harm, saying goodbye to my family yet again. I hugged my mum tightly before she got back into the car, and waved as she drove through the gates. I stared at the empty driveway and just for a fleeting moment wanted to run after the car. I was sure I could catch up with her. Speed was not a gift like the other things—I was just quick. My feet stayed where they were and I felt that courage again, like a buoyancy belt keeping me afloat. The courage that started in my toes and quickly rose through my shoulders and up through my head to the sky. I took in a slow breath and tucked my copper hair behind my ears before heading back inside the house to find Daisy. Daisy called me from the conservatory at the back of the house. I had to allow my eyes to adjust from the intense light outside. The last door on the left led me into the light, airy room. The dark wooden dining table was still on the left, just as I remembered it. A couple of bookcases nested behind the door. A long settee looked inviting near the windowsills crammed with small cactus pots. The fabric of the curtains and settee cushions were a little dated with their huge flowery chintz patterns but I was glad to sit on something a little more comfortable than a car seat. Daisy sat opposite in an armchair and on the table in-between was a tray of cheese sandwiches and two large mugs of Earl Grey tea. I preferred camomile to Daisy’s favourite but I was that hungry and thirsty, I would have drunk anything. “How was the journey down?” Daisy picked up her cup and stared intently at me. I didn’t know whether to tell the truth or just gloss over it. I picked up a sandwich and nibbled around the edges. “Okay. Long and hot.” Her next comment caught me off guard. “Your mother told me you were followed. Were you frightened?” She put her cup back onto the table.
I thought back to the motorway when I had seen the first car. I had screamed at Mum and she floored the accelerator. Mum yelled at me “Are they still there?” and I yelled back, “Yes, go faster!” while frantically checking behind left and right. The terrifying ordeal was etched in my memory and unlikely to disappear anytime soon. “Yeah, we were. One car followed us onto the M6 just south of Sandbach, but we managed to lose it. And the other car followed us from the motorway at Bath to the Frome bypass. We lost them soon after.” “Why do you think you were followed, Rose?” she asked. This felt more like a Q&A rather than a grandmotherly chat. I couldn’t help feeling that she was testing me to see how much I would talk. I swallowed another bite of sandwich before continuing. “You know the answer to that, Daisy. My father has enemies. Some people are after him because of his job and want to stop his research.” I shrugged as if it was old news, nothing important. “What do you know of your father’s occupation?” She shifted slightly in her chair, her plain expression giving away nothing. “Well, he works as a geologist for the government, and travels around the world looking for rare metals. Some of the metals recovered are experimented with and used in nuclear weapons, bombs and guidance systems. It’s understandable that some people, some countries might want him to stop what he’s doing.” I could feel my face redden slightly. I never talked about this to anyone. I was feeling more than a little awkward. “What do you think about his work? Do you agree with what he does?” I thought for a second. “Um, I don’t know. I suppose that there are those who might feel more secure to have them—the weapons, I mean—and like the idea of using them as a threat, but apart from that, I’m not sure. Every country is different and we shouldn’t dictate what others can and can’t do, should we?” I said. “Well, you certainly have an old head on those young shoulders!” she laughed. “I’m impressed. And because of his job, you’ve had to move so often.” “Mostly, I suppose. If he gets a job in the north of England, it wouldn’t be fair for him to travel so far to work every day. But if he was abroad, it didn’t matter where we lived. Though it wasn’t safe to stay anywhere for too long. Why are you asking? You know this already,” I said. She smiled and I relaxed a little. She lifted and brushed down the cover of the armchair arm. “Of course I do, Rose, but I’m just seeing how truthful your parents have been with you, and if you know the whole story. And I see that you do. Your parents have been fair. It wasn’t easy for them, you know. They wanted you to live a completely normal life. I know they hated dragging you and your sister around the country, and as long as you know that, then I’m happy.” I shrugged again. “We all got by. It wasn’t so bad.” Daisy stood up and walked to the windows, her eyes far away as she looked across the lawn. “I hope we can make this work, Rose. Honesty is always the best policy, and I see that you are an honest soul. I think we’re going to get along just fine,” she smiled at me. She walked back and sat next to me, reaching for my left arm. “Are you wearing the bracelet your mother gave you?” Daisy slid back the loose sleeve of my Tshirt, her fingers cool as they touched my wrist. She stared at the bracelet, twisting my arm over and under. “Um, yes. I wear it all the time,” I added. “Good. You’ll need it here. I’ve misplaced mine so I’m glad you have the other.” “I don’t understand. Why it is such a big thing in our family? Why didn’t it go to Amy? And why didn’t we come back to stay during school holidays?” I pulled the sleeve down, hiding the bracelet from sight. I felt the pins tug under my skin; it just ached a little.
“That’s a story in itself for another time, Rose. Right now, I bet your head is splitting with questions but some things will have to wait. All in good time.” She smiled again, and I stared at her face more closely. Her eyebrows were faint but light in colour, which matched her eyelashes. Her pale skin emphasised her grey eyes, her thin, dark lips. I was struck by how attractive Daisy really was. For an old woman, she had barely a wrinkle but she was pretty all the same. One thing I picked up on was that Daisy didn’t probe without reason. She didn’t push me to find out my feelings or opinions. In that short time, I realised I could speak freely and she would listen. I could be outspoken with friends sometimes but I doubted I ever would be with Daisy. I still didn’t trust her, though; I suppose that would take time. And I didn’t ask the questions I should have. If the answers had to wait, then I would wait. I was very patient. She sat down again in her armchair, and I felt the small amount of tension between us lift. I ate the last of the sandwiches. “These are really good. Thank you. Mum didn’t want to stop at the services on the way down.” She laughed lightly. “No, I didn’t think she would, but with good reason. So, how did you like your birthday present?” “The book? Yes, it’s great, thank you!” I replied with gusto. “It’s in my backpack; I was able to read a little on the way down.” “Really? You can read while you’re in a car and you don’t feel sick?” “Um, no,” I said. “I always read. It helps pass the time. When you’re not being followed, that is.” A heavy pause lingered for a moment so I asked about Mira and Hannah, and was pleased that they would be calling later in the week, both eager to see me. I wasn’t shy at making friends; years of adapting had seen to that. It was either join in or remain lonely, and I had had my fair share of loneliness. I didn’t like it. But being new came with certain side effects. I would be a curiosity when school started, and I was ready for that. All the “So tell me your life story” crap, which I would repeat again and again, only to find out that someone would backstab me within a few weeks. Some kids could be mean. I know I hadn’t been enthusiastic with my mother about meeting them but it would be nice to get to know the two girls who had been my childhood friends. After our lunch, Daisy took me on a guided tour of the house. Much of it was different, newer and modernised, than I remembered. We began with the bedrooms upstairs, all nine of them, on the long corridor. My room was at the end on the left and Daisy’s was at the end on the right. The end corridor door next to Daisy’s was locked but on opening, she showed me the staircase leading up to another level. “This is one of the oldest parts of the house. I haven’t had any work done up there yet, but I’m hoping to make another room at the top of the house just for you. Then you can have complete privacy. It will run the full length of the building.” “Yeah? That would be amazing,” I laughed in delight. “It’ll be massive, though.” “Well, one day this house will be yours, Rose, and I want you to be happy and feel like it’s your home. You’ll have to wait a bit for the work to be done; I still haven’t had the plans agreed. Bureaucracy at the Town Hall seems to be stalling me. So, in the meantime, don’t go up these stairs. They’re not quite safe yet, as you can see.” The old wooden steps were badly splintered with age, layers of dusts ingrained into the surface. Two steps that I could see were already fractured into pieces. I nodded in agreement, as Daisy turned away to shut and lock the door once more.
From the hallway, I could sense for the first time that the downstairs rooms were older, more lived in, maybe from an original building that had once stood on this spot. It felt like the past was seeping from the walls and hanging in the air, waiting to be discovered. Whether it was the way the light hit the windows drawing in the daylight, or the smell of wood and stonework from the walls, the atmosphere was calm, almost happy. “How old is the house?” I asked. Daisy thought for a moment. “The original parts of the house are behind the walls of the living room, study, and our conservatory. It’s all boarded up, of course. I had to make the house functional, but it was originally built in 1793 as a coach house, or way station. People used to stop here to get food or refresh their horses before riding out on their journeys down the track. This road is the only direct route across the Salisbury Plain to the other side, and it was the only way for the villages on the Plain to get to town and buy their food and provisions for the week. Another time I can show you the old archways and stable rooms.” “I’d like that. Sounds so interesting. I’m confused, though.” “What about, dear?” Daisy looked genuinely interested. I could tell she was enjoying herself. “When we used to stay, I don’t remember all these rooms. This hallway is the same, and the kitchen and those rooms there.” I pointed to the doors to our left. “But I don’t remember it being so big.” “Ah, yes. That’s because the house looks smaller from the back, you used to drive up using the back lane, and walk in across the garden to the kitchen. Do you remember that?” I vaguely recollected images of a garden with steps. “I think so. But the bedrooms to the right also, I can’t remember them.” “You were only ten when you last came here. We had a walled barrier up so some rooms would have been off-limits. Maybe moving to so many different houses has clouded your memory. You’ll get back into the swing of things.” Daisy put a reassuring arm over my shoulder and opened the doors in the hallway. The living room was furnished in light colours with two cream sofas, a large coffee table, and a cabinet containing a television inside. Wooden beams adorned the ceiling. I smiled at my grandmother. This room was familiar to me. We used to play board games in the evening here, and charades, DVD quizzes, but mostly watch TV. The once-blank wall on the right was now filled with framed photograph; most of the pictures were old and faded. Daisy was in most. I recognised her even when she was younger as her resemblance to my mother was obvious. Some were group photos; others were portrait style. There were lots of Amy and me at various ages, with Mum and Dad in the gardens here, but one in particular that caught my eye was of Daisy with two young men, sitting on the side of an old well. The three were all so similar. Daisy wore a yellow flowered dress, and the men wore khaki shirts and long trousers. Their smiling faces hinted that they were sharing a private joke. “Daisy, who are they?” Daisy peered closer at the picture I was pointing at, but I noticed a sad flash cross her face. “That’s me and my two brothers when we were younger. Frank is next to me, and Will next to him.” “I didn’t know you had brothers. Where are they now?” I asked eagerly. “Sadly, they both died shortly after that photo was taken.” I gulped, and felt instantly guilty. “Oh, Daisy, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to be insensitive.”
She side glanced at me and smiled sorrowfully. “No, Rose, it’s all right. Frank and Will were both older, and in the army. We were all very fond of each other and I missed them terribly when they went to war. But we always had fun when they were home, and they doted on me, you know,” she smiled, recalling a happier time. “This photo was taken during 1942 at our grandfather’s house in Imber; we were sitting on the well in the farmhouse courtyard. Frank had bought the camera in France and from the minute he got home, he wouldn’t stop taking our pictures. He even roped my mother into taking this one and she had trouble with the buttons. That’s why we’re all laughing.” “How did they die? Were they killed in action somewhere?” I asked quietly, ignoring the fact that if the photo was taken in 1942 and she was a teenager at the time, she must be nearly ninety years old. How was that so, when she looked so young? I added my query to the pile of questions already accumulating in my head. “Nothing so gallant, I’m afraid. Frank and Will were in town on their last night before shipping out to somewhere in Europe. Will didn’t like the way another soldier was eyeing up his girlfriend, so he punched the man. My brother had a fearsome temper sometimes. In the end, Frank had to drag Will away from the tussle, leaving the other soldier with a broken cheekbone and nose. The boys drove back to our village, happy as sand boys and a little bit drunk, unbeknownst that they were being followed. Halfway between Warminster and Imber, another car forced them off the road and they were both stabbed to death. It was truly horrible and we all suffered very deeply.” “Did they find the men who did it? Were they punished?” I asked, shocked. “Let’s just say, they found some men to punish. Whether they were the guilty ones, we’ll never know. The police, at the time, had very few leads. The blackout saw to that, and with no street lighting to see and no witnesses, the case was closed. In those days, people seldom talked out of turn, especially to the police.” She sighed. “So, what did you do?” Daisy pulled her shoulders back. “We did what we had to. We buried them, we grieved, and we carried on. We still had to work and the harvest still had to be cropped. It broke my father to lose his boys, and he swore to his dying day that he would avenge whoever committed this heinous crime. He didn’t, of course. He died about ten years after of a heart attack whilst on one of his farm machines.” “Did you ever find out what really happened?” “I have my suspicions. People in this town don’t move around, except for the army people, of course. But over the years, you hear things. It was all a long time ago, and very tragic. But what’s past is past. There’s nothing gained from holding long grudges. You just end up being miserable.” Daisy put her arm around my shoulder again and steered me out the room. “Enough of that, Rose. Let’s show you the study.” Her mood changed as we opened the next door. The study was the size of my bedroom, complete with dark oak wooden panels and walls full of books. Again, it had a feeling of character and presence with the smell of old bindings and paper. I guessed that Daisy spent a great deal of time here, judging by the central writing desk, its surface covered with papers, a pair of reading glasses, pots of pens, and an old Tiffany reading lamp. Opposite was a low comfy armchair, and beside it a standard lamp to aid reading in the darker hours. “It’s exactly as I remembered,” I gasped. Nothing had changed and I knew that I’d be as happy to sit here reading as she obviously was. Back in the hall, in the alcove under the stairs was a small old wooden sloping door. “Now, Rose. This door is to remain locked at all times,” Daisy said sternly. It was the first time her tone was more forceful. “Why? What’s down there?” I asked. “Nothing that need concern you,” she answered bluntly, but I noticed that she was staring at me oddly. I felt a compulsion to laugh but held it back.
“Why, is it old skeletons and family secrets?” She laughed. “Don’t be ridiculous! Just a few things the workmen left behind. The floor isn’t very safe below and, again, the stairs are old,” she said as she guided me towards the kitchen. “Okay,” I answered but the door held my interest. If it was off-limits, why was the key still in the door? I followed Daisy to the kitchen but couldn’t shake the feeling that a carrot had just been dangled in front of my face. The kitchen was modern, complete with a new-looking Aga stove and American-sized fridge along the back wall. In the centre, the black island countertop had bar-style seats while the large windows let in all the afternoon light. Daisy switched the kettle on and got more mugs from the cupboard above. “Tell me, dear, do you still get headaches?” she asked. Her question caught me off guard. “I remember you having them as a child, sweetheart. I have all sorts of remedies just here if you need anything,” she replied and showed me a cupboard filled with boxes and tablet cases. I’d managed to steer clear of headaches today, which was a small bonus. Sometimes they occurred for no reason, but when I was overtired, they hit as fast as a train. “So, I suppose we should negotiate some ground rules? What do you think?” she said as she placed another mug of steaming tea in front of me. “Well, I suppose,” I stuttered. “I thought that Mum had worked it all out with you?” “The rules are that there are no rules,” Daisy laughed. “You can come and go as you please. You’re grown up enough to know what’s right and wrong. I won’t insult your intelligence by dictating what you must and mustn’t do.” “Um, okay,” I said, unsure. “On one condition.” “What’s the condition?”. “You allow me to do the same.” I placed the cup back on the counter. “I don’t understand.” She sighed. “I have a nice life here, and I come and go as I need to. I’ve lived alone for a long time, and I hope that you’ll accept that I won’t always be at home. There will always be food in the fridge or a hot dinner that can be warmed up. Mostly we’ll eat together but as long as you’re aware of it, then we’ll suit each other very well,” she said. It was understandable. In our negotiations my mum had referred to Daisy’s varied social life and I could see from the calendar hanging beside the fridge that nearly every day had an event written on it. “I think it’s a deal,” I grinned. “Good. I thought you’d understand.” “But, Daisy, is it really safe for me here? Mum and Dad are relying on you. That’s what they said, anyway.” My thoughts drifted back to the chase again. Twisted round in my seat, peering back out the rear window, shouting how near or far the black cars had been to us while Mum swerved back and forth through the busy lanes. We had both only felt a small amount of relief for scant minutes before the Mercedes re-emerged through the traffic to chase us again. Daisy’s unruffled tone eased my concern. “You won’t be in any danger in this town. Everybody knows everyone else here, and if someone strange should come through town, the phone will ring, don’t you worry. I wouldn’t put you in any danger, and personally, I think you’ve been kept in that tight woollen blanket for too long. It’s time to stretch your wings a little and have some fun. Do you agree?” she laughed. I did feel free, finally. I felt as if I had come home for the very first time.
“I agree, completely,” I laughed with her. “Good. Now, I have an appointment in town in an hour, and I’d like for you to join me, just this time. The governor is opening the newly renovated Athenæum Theatre and I’ve been asked to be the guest of honour. It’s just a speech, then some ribbon cutting. Afterwards, I’ll take you out for a special treat tonight. There’s a wonderful restaurant in town run by an old friend of mine, and he’d be delighted to have us come for a meal. What do you say?” Her face shone in delight. “Sure, sounds great.” “Good! Then you go and get ready, and I’ll meet you down here in half an hour. There’s also something else I need to discuss with you,” she said. I frowned and felt tension build in my shoulders. “Rose, don’t panic,” she assured me. “It’s nothing bad. Only that we have a lodger living with us. We’ll talk later. Go on, get ready!” Her warm smile relieved me. So, we had a lodger too. From my bedroom window, the cottage in the grounds had appeared empty, unlived in. I wondered what he or she was like. Maybe they were Daisy’s age and a companion for her. Now I felt like the intruder. Above all things, the bond that Daisy and I were forging had seemed to grow even more in that afternoon, and as I climbed the stairs to my room, I knew I’d be happy here with Daisy. Lodger or not.
- CHAPTER TWO MY ROOM WAS IN COMPLETE CHAOS by the time Daisy called. The clothes boxes, now mostly empty, were lying flat on the landing outside near the stairs. But the clothes and remnants of other boxes still lay across the floor and bed, or in piles along the desk, and anywhere else I could find free space. The enormous walk-in wardrobe that had been hidden behind the high boxes was already brimming with clothes, some new, thanks to my mother who had spared me the immediate job of clothes shopping. I made a mental note to thank her the next time we spoke. All my shoes were now resting on the racks at the bottom. There was even a shelf for my jewellery and a hanger for bags. I threw on a pair of jeans and my favourite purple top, complete with ballet pumps, ready to go by the time I heard Daisy. I rushed downstairs with my khaki jacket in hand, ready for my first outing into Warminster. Daisy drove the simplest route into town, showing me the short cuts through the fields and back alleys for when I needed to walk that way. If Daisy could walk it in seven minutes like she said, I would be able to do it quicker. Truthfully, I couldn’t wait to meet up with Mira and Hannah and take full advantage of my new freedom. We parked in the central car parking area, adjacent to the town supermarket, and strolled past the old working men’s club and brewery on the corner. Here I had my first proper view of the high street where all the vital shops were located. The buildings were a mishmash, some two storey and others three, some painted white revealing dark old English beams while others showed off the grey brickwork most popular during the Edwardian or Victorian era. The town had remained very traditional and olde worlde, in a quaint English sense. Daisy reminded me where I would find the stationers, the theatre, the coffee shops, and the post office. Farther along, out of our view were the banks with the ironmongers and printers opposite. The three clothes shops were down the far end of the high street along with a dressmakers and shoe shop. It was good to know that very little had changed since my last visit. Getting my bearings was crucial. From the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of a small crowd of boys, younger than me, sitting on an old brick wall. One of them had a laptop computer and they were all peering at the screen, laughing. What took me by surprise was when they called over a “hello” to Daisy, and she greeted them in return, calling them by name, like friends. In most other towns I’d lived in, kids my age wouldn’t have given a glance at an old person, let alone greet them with such politeness. Daisy smiled at me and winked. “That’s Kelvin Carter and his friends. They’re good boys. Just bored—there’s not much to do around here for boys their age.” I laughed and hooked my arm through hers. We walked together along the street to where a few people were beginning to assemble outside an old Victorian building. A small shower of rain gloomed the mood as we approached a blue tape cordoning off the pathway, which led out into the road. Daisy and I were let through the cordon and I stood at the far side, out the way, as she walked forward and shook hands with some official-looking men and women in smart dress. All greeted her like old friends except for the tall, silver-haired man who kissed her on both cheeks and clasped her hands in his, talking to her like a much closer companion. It made me wonder, in all the time Daisy had lived alone, if she had been lonely. For a soul mate, or a companion—at her age, anyway—or a lover even. Certainly on the photographs in the living room back at the house there was no evidence of a close acquaintance with any male friend of significance. The silver-haired man finally let her hand go and they both looked at me and waved. I returned the same greeting keeping in mind that I would ask Daisy about him later.
A microphone was brought forward and a small area cleared at the front of the magnificent building. The silver-haired man moved forward to address the crowd, who quietened on his advance. He was Ben Deverill, the governor of the town council. While half-heartedly listening to him, I gazed over to take in the atmosphere of this happy occasion. The rain shower had passed. Sporadic cheers and grand applause erupted from the crowd when the man officially introduced Daisy Frost and handed her an enormous pair of decorative scissors. She duly cut the red ribbon draped across the doors to the building and announced it now open. More cheers broke out from the fervent gathering. Daisy looked at me and cheekily winked, telling me instantly that she had done this a few times already, in and around the town. She shook hands again with other dignitaries, including someone who looked like the mayor, a large sash and numerous badges across his chest, Other council members and a few local politicians greeted her, proudly showing off their coloured party rosettes. A commotion drew my attention away to an area just behind me where a disturbance was breaking out. Four young men in dark suits were leading away a middle-aged man scuffling his limbs in protest and shouting obscenities as he went. One of the men had retrieved a handgun and was now holding it down barrel down. I heard a few cries of shock and surprise, but in no time the incident was over. Left in its wake was the murmuring of gossipers guessing what had taken place, followed by a surge of Chinese whispers. As the ceremony came to an end, the crowd dispersed back along the high street, some lingering to take a closer look at the beautifully decorated theatre. Daisy was quickly at my side again and she whispered, “Shall we go?” in my ear. I grinned and nodded, not keen to meet such high society on my first day in the new town. I asked Daisy if she had seen the man being led off, who had conspicuously disappeared into the back of a black Jeep-like vehicle and been driven away. She said she hadn’t seen the occurrence. The mayor had wanted her opinion on a local matter, but at events like these, there were always a few people who wanted to rock the boat. Ben Deverill wasn’t generally liked as the council leader but, Daisy added, he got results where it mattered, and for that he was acceptable, until someone better came along. We headed back along the high street, which continued along a smaller road. A hair salon on the corner displayed the latest cuts and colours available in its window dressing. Behind the shop, like a great colossus, was the square church tower, with its four pinnacles pointing skyward and a lone cockerel weather vane at its centre. The next building along was the restaurant. I smelled newly cooked potatoes and grilled meat from the high street earlier. My acute sense of smell suddenly provoked my stomach to grumble in protest. We were greeted by a middle-aged man sporting a thick black moustache and shock of jet-black hair, combed down neatly to the sides. I glanced around the empty room at the pretty red- and greenclothed tables. Besides us, a lone chef at the back manned the ovens and whisked something in a large white bowl. The walls showed off an array of fine art watercolours and oil paintings. Towns and rural scenes depicted were bathed in sunshine, cascading down to sandy yellow beaches or fields filled with orange trees. A large old-fashioned clock was the centre point, with a faint ticking that was right on time with my heartbeat. “Miss Daisy, it’s so nice you could join us tonight,” the man said with great courtesy, his English broken, accented. “Marco, I’d like you to meet my favourite granddaughter, Rose,” Daisy said proudly to him. “Ah, Miss Rose, we’re so glad you’ve arrived!” He shook my hand with friendly gusto. “It’s nice to meet you.” “Rose, this is Marco Vilhena, owner of the finest Portuguese restaurant in Wiltshire,” Daisy said. “The chicken and chips here are fabulous.” Mr. Vilhena ushered us to the only window table and was soon putting small dishes in front of us and filling our water glasses.
“We have here some fresh bread, garlicky carrots, the best green olives from Portugal, and some special piri-piri sauce. I hope you like it, Miss Rose.” “Thank you, I’m sure I will.” Daisy and I chatted lightly about the town and her memberships in many societies and groups while we tucked into our starters. The food was delicious, and when the main course arrived, the famous chicken and chips, I was almost surprised by Daisy’s choice of restaurant. “Marco is a gem. I often get a takeaway from here during the week, or if I’m running late,” Daisy said. “I’ve never had Portuguese food before, but this chicken is something else,” I managed to say in between mouthfuls, enjoying the spicy sensation of the piri-piri sauce on my taste buds. “It’s nice to see you have a good appetite,” Daisy said. “So many young girls nowadays either over- or undereat.” “I think I burn up more energy than other girls. I get hungry, so I need to eat,” I remarked. “So, can you tell me about our lodger?” The question had been burning inside for a while, but everything had its time and I guessed that Daisy would tell me soon enough. Marco cleared away our plates and we both declined a dessert but opted for cappuccino to finish. Once Mr. Vilhena had served our coffees and was out of earshot, Daisy spoke. “Morgan McCaw lives in the cottage at the bottom of the garden. He’s been living there for nearly two years now. Actually, it’s turned out well. You can go to school together, although he’s a year older than you are. At least you’ll know someone else before you start.” Morgan. I liked the name. I didn’t know any other Morgans. It would be a bonus if he drove to school, too. I wanted to know more. “So why does he live there. Hasn’t he got a home?” “Morgan’s in the same situation as you. His parents travel most of the time and he needed a permanent base. I suggested to his parents that I would be only too glad to take him in and he’s settled in well. The cottage was empty and needed to be lived in. He did a bit of decorating before he moved in and then made it his own. He did such a good job that I offered him the house rent-free. It’s his house, Rose, so don’t go over and pry. He likes his privacy too much, although he joins me for breakfast and the occasional nightcap. Otherwise I see very little of him. It’s not good for young people to shut themselves away but hopefully you can help change that. He’s welcome in our house any time, though, as much as you are,” she said pointedly. I shrugged. “Okay, he’s welcome, I get it. Be nice to Morgan, check.” Daisy continued. “It’s Morgan you have to thank for painting your room and putting up the shelves and your desk. He did it all on his own. He’s so excited about you coming to stay.” “Really,” I said, well aware that my answer came out a bit dismissive. “Why wasn’t he home today?” “His parents are passing through for a few days. He’s been staying over at the family house.” “So he does have a house elsewhere, then.” “Yes, but he didn’t want to live there on his own. The McCaw house is much bigger than ours is. And legally, at the time, he was a minor. His parents signed over guardianship to me until he was old enough to live alone.” “When is he due back?” “Tonight or tomorrow, I think.” Something nagged at me, but it took a few moments to pinpoint it. “Do my parents know about Morgan living with you?” I asked shyly. “Of course they do,” Daisy exhorted. “Though I’m surprised they didn’t tell you. Your mother and Morgan’s mother knew each other well. Before your mother met your father, of course.” “Why didn’t they tell me themselves?”
“Rose, they probably didn’t think it was important, in the grand scheme of things. Does it make a difference?” Daisy’s brow furrowed, and I noticed an anguish I hadn’t seen before. “No, Daisy. It doesn’t make a difference. Morgan’s welcome if you say he is. But I don’t like secrets.” “I know that,” Daisy said. “There are many times when I was out of the loop, as it were, and I wished I hadn’t been. It isn’t a pleasant place to be. No more secrets, promise.” I laughed. “I suppose Mum and Dad did that to you, too.” She nodded. “Make friends with Morgan. Get to know him before you judge him. You can trust him with anything. I do.” “You trust a seventeen-year-old?” “I’ve known him since he was a boy. Our families have always been very loyal to one another. A loyalty of our magnitude is almost unheard of these days.” “But his parents left him. They deserted him, and left him to you.” “They needed to pursue their own lives once more. Morgan accepted that.” “That’s so sad. Poor Morgan.” She chuckled. “Poor Morgan? Your parents have left you in just the same way. The only difference is that we’re blood, and he isn’t. Don’t feel sorry for him. He won’t thank you for it. Tomorrow we’ll talk some more. There are a few secrets of your own that we need to discuss, I believe.” Her expression implied that she had no intention of discussing the subject right here and now. But I could tell that she was talking about my gift. So far, today, there had only been the mention of my bracelet. But as she was my grandmother, I knew she would want to know more. And I had more questions for her, too. But a wave of fatigue draped over me suddenly like a soft sheet. I yawned, and quickly apologised, drinking the last of my coffee. “I think it’s time for bed. You’ve had a long day. Shall we go?” Daisy laughed, getting up from her chair. Mr. Vilhena was quickly at her side and with payment made, Daisy wished his wife well and we left the restaurant to meet the bracing, chilly night air. I dozed on the way home and woke up to the iron gates closing behind us. I wanted to ask Daisy about the security but I could only just concentrate on getting through the front door and into the house. “Go to bed, and I’ll see you in the morning.” She kissed my forehead and lightly pushed me towards the stairway. I didn’t fight it; I was shattered. I shuffled up the stairs half-asleep. “Thank you for the lovely meal, Daisy. I’ll see you tomorrow,” I mumbled. “You’re welcome, angel. Sleep well.” In the bathroom I cleansed my face with half-closed eyes and stared hard in the mirror at my reflection. I did look tired, the evidence showing with dark circles under my dull green eyes. That was a sure-fire sign of being exhausted. My eyes were always sparkling bright, except when I had a headache, but not tonight. My skin was drawn and blotchy, too, probably due to the hot day and chilly evening. Usually my skin shone pale and clear. I had never been able to keep a suntan but I always thought that pale skin was more interesting. At least the glossy magazines said so. There was nothing needed here except a good night’s sleep. I drew a glass of water from the tap and drank slowly, then brushed my long copper hair ’til it was silky again and tied it back. Pausing by the bed, I reached over and opened the small top window. Immediately the fresh night air filled the room. With exhaustion finally taking hold, I got into bed and the draining day finally ended. I was running through a forest. Above me the wind fiercely crashed branch, twig and leaf. My body moved fluidly as I ran, jumping over fallen boughs and ducking under low branches.
My candescent, white glow shone under the thin clothes I wore, my urgency sparking the intense light from within. The white light bounced off the forest floor and guided the way. I was my own illuminated beacon, and I had no use for torches or flashlights. I had to hurry. There was no time left. They needed me and I could hear them, frightened and scared. As I neared the small row of cottages I slowed my pace, stopping next to the first building, the farthest one from the rendezvous point. I controlled my breathing and quickly calmed my body. The glow dimmed out of sight, and my white skin was pale pink again. Apprehension gripped me but haste at this time would ignite fear. Fear he might hurt them. I slowly reached the end cottage and with my back to the wall, I peered round trying to get a view of my foes. In one corner of the featureless yard stood two men wearing dark suits. They pointed handguns directly at the six kneeling youngsters whose hands were bound behind them. Their terrified faces stared into a void at something I couldn’t yet see. I moved swiftly along the wall to a better view. My quiet steps did not attract the guard’s attention. But I was wary now; I had one more barrier between my foe and me. Silence was paramount and I couldn’t afford to linger any longer. My fear heightened as I glanced around the corner. My foe stood tall, big, and menacingly still but with a confident air. He held a small handgun ready, waiting. He already considered the capture of both fugitives a victory. The two boys in question were kneeling in front of him, now facing their friends. But their posture was different to the other six captives. They were defiant and calm. Their hands may have been behind their heads in surrender, but they were not afraid to fight. They were waiting for a signal, waiting for me. The yard was soundless, eerily quiet. No one moved or spoke. I breathed in, quickly gathering as much oxygen as I could into my lungs. I stepped away from the wall and slowly entered the yard, stopping in the dead centre. Every pair of eyes was on me. I heard a whimper from someone in the group I had my back to, while someone else hastened them in a quiet “Shh.” “About time, Halíka Dacomé,” the man said maliciously. “I had a feeling you wouldn’t come.” His loud laugh was filled with emptiness; it was pure evil. “What do you want?” I said with my deep, rich primordial voice, much deeper than my light human tone. “Well, let’s cut to the chase, shall we?” he continued with impatience. “You can live by saving one of these two.” He gestured to the two boys. “Or you can die and save them both. But whatever you decide, someone must die. Will you kill to save a life? Or has the great Halíka Dacomé grown soft in her human form?” As he taunted me, he put his hand to his chin, as if to consider my choice. His demeanour did not fool me and his energy force acted as a mirror, reflecting his own emotions, though he tried to shield them from my sight. He was … afraid? No, maybe not afraid, maybe uneasy in my presence. He knew this circumstance could go either way. In my human form, this gift would have gone unnoticed; the human senses were too dull to draw in these feelings. My own emotions were hidden, thanks to the power of my enhanced senses. This man repulsed me and his actions angered me even more. But he would not see my thoughts or my reaction to his demand. My human form, the girl, clearly had feelings for both these boys. I could view her clear recollections, and whilst her bond with each of them was very different, they were both important to her life. I knew I could not allow this cruel man to harm them. I would save them for her. She deserved much more than the complex life she had lived because of me. I would do it for her. “Let them both go,” I abruptly spoke, the echo resounding around the yard. “They are not part of this. It’s me you want. I order you to release them.” “So you are willing to die for them? You would give your life to see them free?” he said, sneering. “No.” “Then you have no choice, Halíka Dacomé. As you can see, you are out of options.” He gestured to the group at the rear who were quiet now. “You know I will kill one of them, anyway, if you don’t choose. Or would you prefer that I kill the girl’s friends instead?” Cries and gasps escaped the hushed crowd behind. I heard a loud smack as someone received a bash to the head. For the first time I looked down and into the faces of the two boys my human cherished. Cherished in different ways. They weren’t really boys, rather young men, though their youth was definite. They were very different. I could sense something about one of them, something I had not felt in a while but could not place it. I looked at the one on the left more closely. He was dark haired, but he refused to meet my eyes. The one on the right, the blond boy, showed human fear but showed bravery to me. I glanced back to the left one. He still would not look and I couldn’t see; there was something …
My attention was drawn back to the large, grey-haired brute standing behind them. “Time is ticking, Halíka Dacomé. Choose or they both die. You know I’ll do it.” He put the small gun barrel to the temple of the blond boy, who flinched but held firm. The boy’s eyes stared only at me with such trust and belief, confident that I would endure. I saw something out the corner of my eye ... something … what was it …? It was there! The boy on the left looked straight into my eyes. He opened them as wide as he could and I saw … him. My friend who I had not seen in seventy years. I felt the connection like locking atoms fusing together, finally, holding fast. Our connection, our link and bond had not been broken as I had feared but had been hidden in this human boy. I had been so blind, I had not seen. The boy blinked, knowing I would finally understand. Nerído had saved this day. Now I knew the only way to end this. I took a moment, stretching the time apart, millisecond by millisecond, to appraise my arena. As swift as I was in battle, I could not be victorious and save them all without a little help. I hoped these youngsters would have the courage to fight. I could do little with the guns held by the guards. My new incarnation had not grasped all my abilities yet so I would falter if I tried to disintegrate the metal. And those guards still had hands and feet to kick and punch. I would not be quick enough. This body still had so much more to learn. I had one option only. “I choose to save him,” I pointed to the blond boy who stared back at me, his amazement clear. “Very well,” said the evil man. His gun arm rose behind the dark-haired boy who looked to the floor, not daring to make contact with me again. He showed no fear. But I was not quick enough to see the ruse. The man moved his arm quickly back to the blond boy. The gun held straight as he pulled the trigger. “NO!” I screamed, my voice resonating in a perfect arc to the highest crescendo as the shot was fired … An ear-splitting crash of metal on roof tiles stirred me. What woke me fully was the sharp, slow scratching noise on the roof above my head, back and forth. The sound like a thousand knives dragging against a long blackboard sent a shudder down my spine. I sat up and looked out the window, but there was nothing. The night was pitch black in its stillness. Another cold chill flushed through me. The noise was getting louder, a resonating boom with a sharp whirring noise pitched in. My skin prickled with goosebumps. The ceiling shook, making the lampshade above me tremble as the vibrations interceded with the heavy shocks. I hid down deeper into my bed. I was shaking so much, I couldn’t feel the bed tremble underneath me. For the first time in my life, I was absolutely petrified. I wondered where Daisy was. I wished my dad were here. And then the noise stopped, leaving nothing to fill my ears except for the sound of my blood pumping. For a few seconds I calmed myself, but dread plummeted again in my stomach as I heard a new noise behind me that I hadn’t wanted to hear. I sat up and stared through the iron bed bars to the door handle; it rattled and shook, then slowly turned. Deep dread filled me once more. I gulped, my breathing erratic, but I jumped again as the door flew open. There was nothing there. The corridor was dark and silent. I strained to listen but my ears just hummed with the stark silence of static. Like a television with no signal or a radio in between stations. I turned my head to look out the bedroom window again for some evidence of the previous disturbance. Still nothing. My alert senses caused nerves to tingle through my skin. I dared not breathe, and I dared not move. Sitting upright and very still, I listened to the normal nighttime noises through the slightly opened window, for any abnormal sound, but it was over. Sleep would evade me now, and my soft pillow would bring me comfort but not sleep.
My ears cleared, finally losing the humming, and the sound of human voices, softly spoken, filtered through from a room downstairs. “How much longer do we need to wait?” “… not ready.” “… more disappearances … should have known about it.” “… powerless… We need her now.” The voices were three or four women talking with Daisy but I couldn’t hear the full conversation. I climbed out of bed and, from the pile of clothes still sitting on my desk, grabbed at the black towelling dressing gown and pulled it around my shoulders. I had no idea where my slippers were; barefoot would be quieter, anyway. The corridor was quiet as I checked the window to the front garden. Three other cars were on the drive next to Daisy’s. Why hadn’t I heard them arrive? I must have been so tired. At the top of the stairs, I could hear the voices coming from the living room, although the door was closed. “What about the sister?” a voice said. “She’s not important. It’s Rose he’s after, I’m sure of it,” Daisy answered. “After all these years, I can’t believe they were followed,” another voice joined. “I learned long ago not to hold grudges. He, on the other hand, has wanted nothing else,” Daisy said. “But your deal still stands for something. He could, at any time, have killed you and the boy. But you’re both still here,” the first voice added. “Meaning?” Daisy again. “Meaning that you still have power over him. He still fears you. You are still his biggest weakness. You can use that.” “What can I do? The girl isn’t ready. She has no inkling, no idea at all of any of this,” Daisy said. “Then you must tell her soon, before it’s too late. You cannot wait any longer.” “She’s only just arrived. And after the distress she’s had today,” Daisy added. “Daisy, there is much to consider. Our lives depend on her now. She must be told.” As I leaned further over to grasp more of the conversation, I bashed my barefoot against one of the old boxes still lying by the stairs. To my dismay, it crashed down the staircase until it collided with the wall, causing the loudest bang. I cursed silently under my breath. I had just given myself away. “Shh,” said the first voice. Then Daisy spoke loudly. “Rose, is that you?” The door opened and Daisy stood looking up the stairway as I walked down. “Yes, it’s me. I needed a glass of water.” I rubbed an eye in mock tiredness, and hoped that she wouldn’t already know I had water and a glass in my bathroom. “Okay, sweetheart, as long as you’re okay.” She smiled and closed the door again. I breathed a silent sigh of relief, and made for the kitchen. As I grabbed a glass and some juice, I listened again, straining as hard as I could, but there were nothing more than whispers now, inaudible and blocked by the solid wooden living room door. I walked back upstairs, my mind remembering the small conversation. It had been about me. And even after her promise, Daisy was keeping secrets. I needed to find out what they were. It seemed like hours that I lay there. Outside the soft wind buffeted the trees and brushed my window. I changed position again and again. Soon my breathing slowed. I must have dozed for a few minutes. When I sat up, a turbulent wave washed over me and all of my senses sparked to life.
My ears strained to pick out the whisper, my fingers releasing energy that flowed from my tips into the air, and my eyes flashed around the room. There was a voice, the gentle, layered tones feminine, soft, and gentle. Not Daisy’s and none I had heard before. I shed the covers, and instinctively stood up. “They’re coming for it. It’s hidden behind stone. You must protect it. It belongs to you now.” “Where … where is it hidden?” I whispered to the empty room. “Don’t let them take it. You must guard it. Don’t trust anyone.” “Take what? What must I guard? What do you want me to do?” I implored. The voice seemed to emanate from everywhere and nowhere “Use your powers. Hide it. Keep it safe. It is your life.” Another wave of energy surged and pulsed through me, almost knocking me off balance. As I lifted my hand, its iridescent glow shone white from within, the bones almost visible through the translucent skin, and then the glow gently faded. This was a dream, I told myself, laughing inwardly. Just a dream. I had never glowed like this before. My gift was a silvery thread but no glowing had ever occurred. But my body felt so alive, as if each blood cell was stampeding its way along my veins, its force gushing up my arms and flowing from my fingertips, down my legs and out through my toes. The flow slowed and I felt weary again. I closed my eyes, finally succumbing to exhaustion, the soft bed drawing me in. Sleep arrived within seconds.
- CHAPTER THREE MY LIMBS TINGLED, ACHING AS I AWOKE. I clambered out of bed and stood in front of the fulllength silver-framed mirror by my window. I hadn’t remembered a mirror being there before. My reflection was different now. The shield-like grey bodysuit seemed strange, but I recognised my bracelet on my left wrist. My grey skin was perfect, flawless but almost transparent in the light. The silver hair was tied back in a high ponytail, and the grey, almond-shaped eyes were not my own. This reflection … she was someone else. I swayed to the left and right but she didn’t follow me. In the reflection, she yawned, putting a hand to her mouth. “Time to wake up, Rose,” her words were stilted, foreign, with the strange echoing low pitch. “What?” I mouthed back. “Time to wake up,” she said again. “Who are you?” I whispered. “Time. To. Wake. UP,” she shouted, anger in her face, and placed her hands onto the mirror, showing me her palms, both tattooed with a large symbol on each one. Who was she? “TIME. TO. WAKE. UP!” she screamed, and with one violent punch, she smashed the mirror. “Rose, time to wake up, dear.” Daisy’s voice made me jump. I was still in bed, and crushing a pillow under my fist. “I brought a cup of your favourite tea,” she said cheerily, and placed the mug on my bedside cabinet. “Did you sleep okay, angel?” “Yeah, I think so. Just a bunch of weird dreams.” I stretched the sleep out of my muscles. “That’ll be our country air. You’ll sleep better here than anywhere else.” I smiled sleepily at her. “I guess I will.” “I’ll be in the kitchen. Take your time getting up. There’s no rush.” With that she left the room, leaving the silence behind. Outside the sun shone and a light breeze wafted through the open window. I felt refreshed, energetic even from my sleep despite the peculiar night. Inside my room, the covers of my bed were half hanging off, my other pillow was on the floor, and the pyjamas I wore were twisted uncomfortably around my body. So much for sleeping peacefully. My room looked like there’d been in a fight, unopened boxes and clothes still strewn everywhere. In the bedside cabinet drawer I had put my diary, the present from Dad. It felt ironic that he should have given me this, and now my dreams were so vivid, I had something to write about. I turned the leaves to an empty page and started to write. The cameo in the mirror was the last entry; I described her in detail. I closed the cover and sat for a moment, reflecting. I remembered some words for the first time, a strange name: Halíka Dacomé. Dreams are considered to be a representation of the subconscious mind, ideas and themes that stick in our memories and serve no purpose. But I still had no recognition of the people or places I visited in mine. And the name didn’t mean anything. As I sipped my tea, my stomach rumbled. I glanced at the clock—it was midmorning. I had so much to do today, the unpacking for starters, to try to make this empty shell of a room my home. The unpacking would be dirty work so I pulled on a scruffy pair of tracksuit bottoms and an old sweatshirt from my wardrobe. A check in the bathroom mirror revealed bird’s nest hair yet again. I grabbed the brush and started pulling, wincing at the knots, and then tied it back into a ponytail, brushing my fringe forward.
As I cleansed my skin, I was relieved that there was now colour in my cheeks. My cheekbones stood out, showing off the simple curvature of my face, and my eyes shone brightly again under my dark lashes. I smiled into the mirror. Yes! Today was going to be a good day! Daisy was busy preparing food on the large central countertop when I got to the kitchen. The smell from the oven was delicious. “Morning, Daisy!” I said as I walked across the black stone floor to the bar seats next to her. “Properly this time.” “Morning, angel!” she replied, switching on the kettle. “So, do you remember your dreams at all?” I sat down, wondering if I should say anything about the night’s events. I hesitated. “Not really. Did you hear the loud noises? I thought something had dropped onto the roof.” “No, dear. I don’t recall anything unusual. Sometimes the army does midnight manoeuvres and if they do, it’s usually loud,” she replied. “Maybe that’s what you heard?” “Possibly,” I said, trying to sound convinced. If the noises were the army, why hadn’t I seen anything outside? Like a Jeep or a tank light or even a helicopter beam in the sky? It didn’t make sense. The noises had come from the roof; that much I was sure of. What would the army be doing on the roof? Lost in my thoughts, I realised Daisy was still talking. “Sorry … what?” “I said, what would you like for breakfast? Toast, cereal, or would you like bacon and eggs?” I screwed my face up at the last suggestion. “Just cereal, please. And you don’t have to do this for me. I can get my own.” I bit my lip. I hadn’t meant the words to sound harsh but Daisy waved them off. “Nonsense,” she said glibly. “It’s your first morning, and I sometimes do it for Morgan, anyway. It’s a shame he’s not here yet.” “He didn’t come back last night?” I asked, taking the cereal bowl from Daisy’s hands. I tore into it, not realising just how hungry I was. “No, dear. So, what are your plans today?” Daisy asked, casually changing the subject. I sighed. “Unpacking, get my things out of boxes and then, I don’t know, go for a run maybe?” “Well, I’ll be out for most of the day so you can get on with it all. I have to visit a friend who’s in need of some help.” “Okay. What kind of help? Is she sick?” Daisy’s brow wrinkled in anguish as she spoke. “No, nothing like that. Maggie’s husband has gone missing, so I’m taking over a casserole. She needs people around her at the moment. I’m sorry I’m not going to be here for you, Rose.” “Was she here last night?” I asked, remembering our encounter on the stairs. “Yes, she was.” “Can I do anything to help?” I said, but she flicked up her hand. “Nothing at all. I just want you to enjoy your time here, and get settled. We’ll talk later about it, okay?” “Sure, okay.” “I’ll leave a spare key on the hall stand so you can come and go as you please. The phone is in the hall so you can call your parents or Amy if you want. Help yourself to anything in the fridge when you feel peckish. Did you enjoy your breakfast?” she nodded to my empty bowl. I smiled. “Daisy?” I asked shyly. “Would you mind if I used your study later?” “Of course I don’t mind, dear. What are you looking for?”
“Have you ever heard the name ‘Halíka Dacomé’?” I wasn’t sure but I could have sworn that I saw Daisy stiffen slightly. “Halíka Dacomé is just an old legend. You’ll find her story in the book I gave you,” she said, her tone slightly abrupt. “I thought I had heard her name from somewhere,” I said. I would sound crazy if I told her I had dreamt it, but I hadn’t recalled seeing it in The Wiltshire Myths and Legends. I cursed silently knowing I should have checked first. “You’ll find your tea in that cupboard, and I’ve written my mobile number on the top of the calendar if you need me. You’ll be okay on your own?” “Of course, Daisy, I’ll be fine. You go and be with your friend,” I said. I got up and put my bowl in the dishwasher. I found the cupboard stacked with boxes of camomile tea. “Wow, Mum really did prepare you for me, didn’t she?” I said. “Your parents wanted you to feel at home here, so, yes, they told me what you liked. Rose, I want you to consider this your home. I know you’ve only been here a day, but don’t think of this as my house. It’s all yours.” She got up and gave me a tight squeeze before exiting the kitchen. With Daisy gone, the house became eerily quiet again, the occasional creak breaking the stillness. So Daisy hadn’t heard the noises, which I found strange. But, at the time, she’d been on the ground floor at the front of the house. Could that have made the difference? My back bedroom would have captured any noise from the garden and the fields behind. Maybe it was the army after all and had just seemed louder in an unfamiliar house. And what was that about Maggie’s husband going missing? How odd. I was still deep in thought when I returned to my room. With a sigh, I embarked on the mammoth task of unpacking. A while later I surveyed my work. Books filled all the available shelving space; my computer was Internet connected and e-mails downloaded, though none were from my parents or Amy, which annoyed me. Some old friends had written a short message—sweet of them. The small iPod flashed as it charged. The wardrobe was filled to maximum capacity. I had an overwhelming urge to talk to someone familiar so I ran downstairs and dialled Amy’s number, eager to speak to her. It went straight to voicemail. I left my message and returned upstairs to sit on my bed and gaze outside. The clock in the hall chimed and I was startled by the time. Lunchtime already. I changed out of my scruffs into a floral green top and jeans before I ran to the kitchen to prepare a sandwich. As I munched, I stared out the window, into the garden, remembering the voice from my dream.
“They’re coming for it. It’s hidden behind stone. You must protect it. It belongs to you now.” “Don’t let them take it. You must guard it. Don’t trust anyone.” “Use your powers. Hide it. Keep it safe. It is your life.”
“It’s hidden behind stone.” As I spoke the words aloud, I began to think of what it could mean. The walls around the house and garden were the obvious choice. But was it too obvious? Sure, the security here was tight so it wouldn’t be easy to hide anything in the wall without it being noticeable. Plus, I had no idea how long the wall was. Half a mile at least. Did the voice mean hidden underground, as in under the stone of a house? Maybe even under Morgan’s cottage, as it was relatively new? And that was something else I hadn’t thought of. Who was the voice? Who was she? Maybe the grey girl in the mirror, but when the girl had spoken, it hadn’t sounded the same. Her foreign intonation had been stilted. She seemed slightly uncomfortable with the English language.
More than inquisitive, and with spare time on my hands, I finished my sandwich quickly and headed out the back door. I knew I shouldn’t but I couldn’t resist as the terracotta roof of Morgan’s cottage glinted in the sun. The grass felt cool under my bare feet as I stepped across the lawn and approached the conifers that hid the cottage well. Around the far side, the front door and a small driveway led to another lane. This I remembered. It was the original entrance when my family and I came for our holidays. We would travel around this lane and park on this driveway. So that was why I hadn’t recalled the gates or the gravel before. It made sense now. This far side of the garden was much prettier. The surrounding plants and trees were much more established. Large pots of yuccas and flowers in smaller pots provided a rainbow of colour and variety. The vista was beautiful and well maintained. I couldn’t help but think that this was most unusual. Most boys my age hadn’t a clue how to look after a pot plant, let alone a small garden like this. Daisy must visit regularly and help Morgan with the watering. I sneaked along the front wall of the cottage and peered into the windows. The room was small but cosy. At the front door, I paused. Should I? Daisy would kill me, for sure. Curiosity overcame all else, though. I had already come this far. Quietly, I tried the door handle. The door opened without a sound. Didn’t anyone lock their doors around here? Then I remembered the security. Of course, what would be the point of locking your door when you were surrounded by a six-foot wall topped with security cameras and barbed wire? The pleasant room inside was studio styled, a single bed against the corner and a TV opposite. A sofa and bookshelf acted as a room barrier facing a small kitchenette. The windowsill above the sink had more plants. This was nice, I thought, cheerfully surprised. It was tidy, neat, and not at all what I expected. The four walls were filled with tasteful posters of waterfalls, sunsets, and aerial views. One was a print of an old Stonehenge painting I’d seen in a book, the one with sheep around the blue Sarson stones. My opinion of Morgan went up slightly but this was only because of the tidiness. I hated slothfulness. I stood in the centre of the room quietly, waiting before I continued. I had to be absolutely certain there would be no interruptions. It was safe. I could feel nobody within a half-mile radius. With closed eyes and my ears keenly tuned in to sound, I stood and focused within. I stretched my palms out, facing up, and reached fully with my gift. The familiar tingling sensation followed with the silver tendrils escaping from my fingertips, like skipping ropes wavering, touching, and feeling the essence in the room. I tried to feel for a loose brick or stone, but stopped at the concrete floor. Even my gift couldn’t get through it. The small cry came from the corner of the windowsill, so faint, ordinary ears wouldn’t have heard it. I moved my head in the direction without opening my eyes. A small silver dot shimmered against the red hue of the back of my eyelids. The dot was a pot plant on the windowsill. I smiled, and blinked my eyes open as I grasped the plant and sat on the sofa balancing it on my knees. This was one of the upsides of having a small gift; I loved doing this but couldn’t remember when the last time had been. Months ago possibly. The pretty plant was a pink begonia that had been overwatered. The saucer to catch water underneath was too large. The brown, dry leaves were a sure sign, but my gift told me for certain. I held my hand over the plant, guiding the silvery threads as they streamed like hundreds of shiny veins from my fingers, touching every petal, every stalk. Their touch soothed and I felt a thrill as they soon entwined themselves around the stem, delving into the soil below. This plant was happy but there was no mistaking, it wasn’t afraid to die. I shoved my shiny tendrils down farther and felt the dampness. Yes, too much moisture at the pot base. The root tips had perished from drowning and the root heads closest to the husk would soon follow.
I whipped the tendrils around the base, gently withdrawing the water and expelling it back out into the air. The begonia shifted in the soil as it began to breathe again. I started pulling the veins of silver to the surface. They flashed back into my fingers and the dry leaves dropped away to the floor. The plant had shown me images of new shoots ready to emerge. It shuddered under my touch, happy now that it could grow bigger. Feeling pleased with myself, I placed it back on the windowsill. I crept out of the cottage, skipping a little as delight of my good deed took over like an adrenaline rush, and quickly ran back to the house, completely forgetting the reason for going to the cottage in the first place. It took the next few days to get everything unpacked. My room was now transformed; I had added a table lamp to my bedside cabinet and draped a sheer scarf over the lampshade for a softer light. The curtains were hooked away from the window to allow complete light into every corner of the room. The paint smell had almost disappeared, now that the windows were all opened fully at the top. Daisy found some soft beige rugs for the floor, and a few old picture frames that I hung on the walls. Photographs of my friends and family now looked over me wherever I stood and brought a feeling of belonging. E-mails trickled through from friends eager for news, but Amy had still not replied to my voicemail or bothered to send a note. I had visions of her enjoying the freedom without our parents around, so I let her have the time away. My parents had written twice since my arrival. Mum wished that she was back home again and hated the heat of the humid desert town where they had rented a house. Dad wrote that he was worried I hadn’t started making friends; he implied that I should get out more. I promised him that when Mira and Hannah came over, I would try. Daisy was exactly as I imagined. We developed a nice-but-no-pressure relationship. She was always out with some committee or another. Women’s Guild, Women’s Network, Women’s Refuge, War Widow’s Society, and more. I laughed when she continued to fill in her calendar. There was barely a space free and though I should have, I really didn’t mind. Being on my own had been refreshing, but I began to crave some away time from the house and couldn’t wait for my reunion with Hannah and Mira. While Daisy was out so much, I spent time in the garden, went for runs around a three-mile circuit I had discovered close to the house, and read up on the history of the town. I still hadn’t managed to read the story of Halíka Dacomé but my dreams had calmed their intensity since that first night. Morgan still hadn’t returned so the cottage remained quiet, tranquil and at night, dark. On Friday morning, I got up and dressed with excited vigour. The girls were due after lunch. I was excited about seeing them again and I hoped they still liked me after all the years apart. I dressed carefully, choosing a new green top I found in the pile of new clothes Mum bought for me. It tied in a small bow at the back and showed off my thin waist and strong, curvy shoulders, while the soft sheen of the fabric’s colour brought out the emerald green of my eyes. The jeans and peep toe flats completed my outfit. I brushed my hair, leaving it straight and loose, and brushed my fringe forward. The light from the window glinted across the top of my head like a coppery halo. Once I applied some mascara and clear lip gloss, I was finally ready. The spluttering clamour of two mopeds entering the driveway had me running for the front door, and, sure enough, there they were. Two tall girls, helmets in hand, stared at me for a second; I stared back and then grinned. I recognised them instantly, of course, but they had changed somewhat in the time away. Mira was a tall, thin girl with long brown hair swept back in a French plait. I could see the little girl I remembered, but she was so pretty now, her arched eyebrows emphasising her brown eyes. Hannah was still a larger girl but had lost her childhood chubbiness, and her brown bobbed hair framed her amiable face. Both girls wore jeans and tops like me.
One minute we were staring, and in the next we were hugging and laughing with lots of screaming in the middle. “When Daisy said you were coming back, I couldn’t believe it until I saw you, and you’re here!” Mira squealed, hugging me again. “This summer is officially going to be brilliant.” “Well, I was sure you’d come back someday,” Hannah added. We linked arms and walked inside to the kitchen. Once laden with drinks, we went to sit on the lawn. “So tell me everything,” I said happily. “Much the same, actually,” Mira said. “What would you like to know? I’m still single; my mum still runs the estate agency in town, and my dad works in Bath as a meteorologist.” “My dad still works on the army base, and my mum stays at home,” Hannah added. “They separated about a year after you left but they got back together. My brother, Michael, is thirteen now and growing up fast!” “Aw, little Michael! He was so cute!” I exclaimed. “So, did you do okay in your exams? Mine were brutal.” “Yeah, I got A’s mostly,” Hannah said. She wasn’t boasting but I remembered she had flair for academics. “Mine were terrible. I studied so hard, too,” Mira said. “Sixth form will be good, though. We need to do well. There are not many jobs around Warminster, unless you want to be in the army.” We all laughed. “What is there to do around here?” “We have a cinema, shops—as you know—there’s a small nightclub in town that we’re allowed in, but strictly no alcohol for us ‘under eighteens.’ It’s pretty good, and everyone goes there. There are a few coffee shops, and after that, we make our own fun. Someone is always having a party! All in all, it’s not so bad. You won’t be suffering from cabin fever, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Mira said. “I was actually,” I sighed. “I had this bad feeling that I wouldn’t see anyone till school started. I was getting depressed just thinking about it. But when Daisy said you’d pop by, I was so relieved.” “We turned up and saved the day,” Hannah added, laughing. “You have no idea how grateful I am!” “So, have you met Morgan yet?” Hannah pointed her thumb to the cottage behind us. “Not a sign. He’s apparently visiting his folks.” “Oh, that’s right, I’d forgotten,” Mira said. “His dad is a famous rally driver who travels the world. He wins sometimes, too. He’s away for most of the year. Morgan doesn’t see him that often.” “What about his mum?” “She’s with his dad,” Hannah said softly, her brows furrowed. “Morgan really didn’t have anyone until Daisy offered to take him in. I mean, he would have had George to take care of him, but he’s more like an uncle than anything else. Morgan’s sister is at Bournemouth University right now, so Daisy’s was the best option.” “Who’s George?” I asked, trying to put the pieces together. “George is their butler. He takes care of the house while they’re all away. He’s been with the family since Morgan was born,” Mira piped in. “They’re very rich, but you wouldn’t guess it from Morgan. He’s so down to earth. Well, he’d have to be with friends like us! Me in my terrace house and Hannah in her flat!” I couldn’t help but think that Morgan was sounding nicer as our talk continued. “Do you see Morgan often?” I asked. “All the time. We come here quite a lot, as a group, you know?” “We have the same circle of friends,” Hannah clarified. “Morgan’s great. You’ll like him a lot.
He’s very much like you.” “In what way?” “Well, rumour has it that you’re a fitness junkie,” Mira laughed, meeting Hannah’s enthusiasm. “He is, too, and he’s a nice guy. We’ve known him a long time. Like I said, he’s a lot like you.” “Really,” I chuckled at her choice of words, looking at both Mira and Hannah. “Rose, you’ve always had a strong personality, even when we were kids. You don’t stand for any messing around, and you call it as it is. You always have done, and it’s why I liked you when we first met. You were always the leader of our little group. Morgan would be good for you because you’re very similar people.” “I don’t like where this conversation is going,” I laughed. “I’ve just got here and getting a boyfriend is not on my agenda!” “Okay, if you say so,” Mira said. “But there are loads of girls who are really jealous of you right now.” “Loads of girls? I don’t know anybody.” “Believe me, everyone knows about you, whether they’ve met you or not,” Hannah remarked. “Daisy has been telling everyone about you coming to stay. She knows most of the town, you know.” I stretched back on the grass, enjoying the sun on my face. “Great,” I muttered. “Which reminds me, next week there’s a party at the woods near Old Mad Cole’s place, but we can talk about that later,” Mira said. I remembered that name. “What happened to Old Mad Cole?” I was curious. “Do you remember when Mira fell in the brook and he found us and carried Mira home? We’d all thought he was nutty as a fruitcake.” “He was mad, that’s for sure. But we never knew what happened to him or his farm,” Hannah said. “What do you mean?” I saw a look pass between the two girls, as if they were wary about the conversation. “I saw that. Tell me.” “Old Mad Cole went missing six months ago,” Mira said quietly. “No one knows what happened or where he went. He just vanished.” “And three months ago, the local council took over his farm and flattened it,” Hannah added. “There’s an old people’s home being built on the land now.” “No!” The quiet little man who was Old Mad Cole had got the nickname from constantly chasing chickens around his yard and shouting at anyone who dared trespass on his land. He had a toothless grin and was often seen carrying a bottle of spirits. Along with string holding up his trousers and the threadbare brown jacket he always wore (we all guessed that it had never been washed), he had suited the name, though no one could remember who started calling him that. But he’d been decent to us and was not inclined to bother or harm anyone. He kept to himself. “The police didn’t find any evidence or anything?” “Nothing,” Hannah added. “They searched for days and weeks, but no one came forward with any information, and the house was so dirty and falling apart inside and out, it was difficult to glean any clues. The police gave up. I still think someone somewhere knows something, but they’re not going to come forward now.” Mira continued. “And he wasn’t the first. There were more disappearances, but never any information that the police could find. The authorities are baffled. We all have to be careful around here. I’m surprised Daisy hasn’t told you.” So, there were more disappearances than just Daisy’s friend. That’s what she had been discussing when I overheard them.
“In the meantime, you’ve just got here!” Hannah threw a warning glance at Mira. “How do you fancy going into town now? Do you have any plans? There’s a cool coffee shop that we all hang out at, called The Catcher’s Call. Well, it’s not great but at least we can sit and chat for as long as we want without being hassled to vacate the table. We can give you the lowdown on everyone in town!” “Great idea! I so need to get out of this house.” I jumped up quickly. “I’ll just get my jacket, and put some earrings in.” “Do you still get the headaches, Rose?” Mira asked quietly. “How on earth did you remember that?” I’d forgotten that they would know about my one ailment. I must have suffered when I was smaller, but I couldn’t remember. “You would sometimes be out for days with those headaches,” Hannah added. “I never knew anyone so young with them; we must have been eight or nine. We’d visit, to see if you were okay, but your mum would tell us to come back another time.” “I still remember your dad finding that metal stuff in … where was it? South America somewhere?” Mira said. “Peru,” I answered, shell shocked that they remembered all this. “That’s it,” Mira continued. “And he made you earrings and hair bands and they seemed to cure your headaches instantly. It was so strange that it had no effect on anyone else when they tried it out.” I stared at them both, smiling happily. “What?” Hannah said, surprised. “I am so glad you’re here, and I’m here! And we have the whole summer together!” I grabbed them both in a bear hug and we fell to the floor, laughing. I had to sit on the back of Hannah’s moped all the way into Warminster town. The spare helmet she always kept with her felt heavy on my head, and for a moment, I was mildly claustrophobic. Once we got into town, we made for the main car park. Hannah held the bike steady as I got off. The ride had not been comfortable and she laughed as I shook my dead legs and jumped around trying to get circulation back into my bottom. The three of us walked along a small alleyway that led to the centre of town. Five minutes later, we were gathered around a central table in the café ordering coffees and orange juices. The Catcher’s Call was a small coffee shop in a quieter area of town, along one of the side streets. Due to the school holidays, the place was almost full, teenagers mostly, and every pair of eyes stared at me as we walked in, followed by low whispers. This will start the rumour mills whirring, I thought. Soon everyone else in the café seemed to be getting on with their own conversations, leaving us to get to know one another. “Is your brother still around, Mira?” I asked. I knew that they had been close. Jason was the same age as Amy and we had hung out together when we were little. “Yes. He’s not at home any more, though. He lives with some guys that hang around with Aiden Deverill. He still works in town, so I see him a lot,” Mira said. “Oh, you guys were close. Did you miss him when he left home?” “Like you wouldn’t believe. But I actually see more of him now. He always pops back to bring his washing!” Mira joked. “Plus, Mum is always cooking him food parcels. I think she’s worried that he’ll starve living with a bunch of boys.” “Do you know most of the people in here?” I whispered to them both. “They’re mostly from our school. Some go to the private school on the other side of town, but we get to meet them at the club. You’ll get to know people soon, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Hannah whispered back.
Mira had lived in Warminster for most of her life, so it wasn’t surprising the number of people she greeted upon our entrance. It was a small town, after all. Hannah appeared to be popular, too, and I was pleased that throughout her unhappy childhood, she had gained confidence in herself. Above it all, I was still unnerved by our conversation earlier regarding the disappearance of Old Mad Cole and the others. Daisy’s friend Maggie had a missing husband, too, though it didn’t feel right to discuss it with the girls yet. I had no idea why but while I found the happenings eerie, I was interested to find out more of the story. “Hannah, earlier you were talking about the disappearances,” I asked quietly, not wanting to draw any unwanted attention. “Were there any links to the missing people? What do the police say?” Hannah looked awkward for a minute, and then slowly leaned forward. “Firstly, be careful what you say. You don’t know who could be listening.” I ducked my head, even more intrigued now, and after glancing around the coffee shop, we all leaned forward so she could continue. “This is only my side, but my dad talks sometimes. He brings news back from the base. It’s just men working in the engineering department. They’re all civilians, but they talk about it there. They’re worse than old women!” she smiled, then carried on. “It must have been about three years ago when the first weird happening occurred. “Agatha Millard was elderly and lived on her own. No one really knew that much about her because she kept to herself. Daisy knew her well, but Daisy keeps her own counsel, as you know. Aiden Deverill’s grandfather used to look after the garden and do odd jobs around the house; he didn’t see anything strange, either.” “Who’s Aiden Deverill?” I’d heard the name somewhere before. “Look behind you, two tables to the left, but don’t make it look like you’re staring at him,” said Mira, her whisper nervous. I turned and looked at the coffee counter, and then twisted slightly to look at the table of people. I turned back. I hadn’t picked out which one she meant. “He has black hair, blue eyes with a black shirt. He’s the one I mean,” Mira asked. I turned back for a proper look this time. Four older boys were occupying the table next to the window, and in the corner, the dark-haired one stared at me. The eyes were familiar somehow and his face was pleasant, good-looking even. I was sure I’d seen him somewhere before but couldn’t place him. His thick, dark hair was long, just above his shoulders. We locked eyes for a second. I blushed, and turned back quickly in my chair, but I wasn’t quick enough to miss a smile from him. The hairs on my arms stood up as I flushed with faint embarrassment. My heart began to gallop like a pack of gazelles. Was it me, or was it suddenly hot in here? Hannah elbowed Mira who whispered, “Are you all right? You’ve gone pink!” “Shut up!” I quickly mouthed back to them both. I shut my eyes, feeling mildly stupid, but I could still see his gaze when I closed them. “So, do you like him?” Hannah said quietly, not letting Mira continue. “What’s not to like?” I said calmly. “I’m a girl and he’s gorgeous. But he wouldn’t be interested in me.” “Are you kidding?” Mira sharply whispered. “Have you looked in the mirror lately? You’re the prettiest girl in the room.” “No, I’m not, you are!” I threw back at her. “Get on with the story before I get really embarrassed!” I said, hoping the conversation would help my redness go away. Mira leaned in closer to me. “Okay, well, it was Aiden Deverill who found the body.”
- CHAPTER FOUR -
“BODY?” I GULPED. “Yes, Miss Millard’s body was on the top of Arn Hill, the one next to yours near the golf course. But get this. The lady could barely walk. She used a frame around the house,” said Mira, unconsciously waving her hands around our small area. “And there she was, in her nightdress, lying down perfectly straight on the top of Arn Hill, with her arms crossed over her chest. It was Aiden who found her at about six o’clock that morning. She hadn’t been harmed in any way. She was just lying there, dead.” “Do they know how she got there? Did his grandfather know anything?” “There were no footprints, and that hill can get pretty muddy, especially after the rain. It’s almost as if she flew, or was very carefully placed. Whoever it was knew what they were doing. The police didn’t have any evidence, couldn’t even find a footprint, and so there was no further investigation. It just got filed as a cold case. Big Ben Deverill was so distressed by the whole thing. He had done odd jobs in his spare time for Agatha for, must be, twenty or thirty years. It took him a long time to get over it. My dad thinks Ben secretly thought the house would go to him in Agatha’s will, because she had no relatives. The house was willed to Daisy in the end.” “Okay, I feel spooked. So that’s Agatha Millard and Old Mad Cole,” I said abruptly. A shiver snaked down my spine. “What did Daisy do with the Millard house—did she sell it?” “Yes,” Hannah took up the conversation. “But here’s what’s weird. No one knew who bought it from Daisy. Not even Daisy. It was all completed through solicitors and the name of the new owner was withheld. Unless you want to break into the solicitors to find out, we’ll never know.” “That’s really weird,” I said. “What do the newspapers say? There must be a theory.” “My dad reads the newspaper every week and not a word has been printed,” Mira whispered. “He’s checked and checked. It’s as though there’s a media blackout on the subject.” “Or maybe they just don’t want to alarm anybody,” Hannah added. “You know what people are like around here. One sniff of bad news and everyone knows about it. That’s what you get for living in a small town.” “But we’re not just a small town, though, are we?” Mira said. “We’re a small town in the middle of nowhere, on the edge of Salisbury Plain, which is massive, by the way. With an army base adjoining us and Lord knows what they keep in those hangars and warehouses. We’re just a bunch of ‘hicks’ living in ‘Hicksville!’ And as they say ‘What happens in Warminster stays in Warminster.’” I shuddered as Mira said the last part. But everyone had the Internet now. It wasn’t like the 1940s where we would have been cut off from all civilisation. I suddenly had a thought. “You said Aiden found the old lady?” “Yes.” “What was he doing on Arn Hill at six in the morning in the first place?” I knew as soon as I spoke that I should’ve stayed quiet, but I couldn’t stop myself. My forwardness won over, a nagging thought that refused to let go. “Apparently, he was out walking his neighbour’s dog. But, Rose, keep it to yourself. Aiden gets very touchy about the subject, and you don’t want to get on his bad side.” “Who am I going to tell? You two are the only people I know, apart from Daisy!” I laughed with them, and the serious moment evaporated.
The conversation quickly changed to other topics. I was keen to learn about who else would be in my year at school. Soon Mira was pointing out people from school. Debbie, from the farm nearest to Daisy’s house, and Sean, who ran a film club at school, and a few others came over to say hello. They seemed nice but I didn’t even try to remember all the names. My memory was good but not that good, and I was sure that they would remember mine, anyway. Aiden Deverill didn’t come over to introduce himself. I stole another quick look at him. He was in a deep discussion with his three friends, and he didn’t notice this time. “Does Aiden Deverill know who I am?” I whispered. “Oh, yeah.” Hannah nodded. “Ben Deverill and Daisy are old friends. He’s governor of the town council and Daisy advises him occasionally on local matters. Aiden will, very much, know who you are.” “It’s so annoying,” I muttered, unexpectedly feeling irritated. “What is?” Mira asked. “Well, it’s all part of it. I’ve done this a dozen times. Moving to a new town, and gradually getting to know everyone,” I said. “If I’m known already, where’s the fun?” “Rose, don’t be upset.” Hannah reached across and squeezed my hand. “They don’t know who you are. They just know that you’re Daisy’s granddaughter.” “I suppose.” But I wasn’t convinced. “And everyone seems to know Daisy.” “So?” Mira chirped. “Well, she’s my grandmother, and I know so little about her, yet the whole town knows Daisy Frost, probably better than I do. It makes me feel a little intimidated, that’s all.” “Cheer up, Rose,” said Mira brightly. “Since when were you worried about what other people think?” I knew she was right. Why was I so bothered? I shouldn’t let it get to me. “So, what do you have planned for our mad summer, then?” I changed the subject. “Well, after this, I suggest we go and have a meal somewhere. I don’t need to be home yet. But tomorrow night, if you’re free, we’re going to an Annual Watch on Cradle Hill. And we have a picnic planned near Shearwater. A few others will be joining us, too. It’s beautiful there. You’ll love it,” Mira said. “Oh my God, you’re going to have to remind me about all of this. I hadn’t thought I’d be so busy!” I blurted. “What else?” “After that, there’s the party near Cley Hill I told you about earlier, then we have a cinema trip, another party at Debbie’s house, and then in two weeks’ time, just before we start school, we have a masked ball at Longleat House. The school has arranged for buses from the town centre to get there. It’s going to be brilliant! Have you got a ball gown or long dress? Everyone has to be glamorous and wear masks, so you don’t know who’s who. It’s so exciting!” “That sounds really nice, but I don’t have a ball gown or dress to wear. Is there a dress shop in town?” “There’s a new one near the courtyard. You can buy or rent a dress, but you have to get in there quick because they’re selling out fast. I’ll take you if you like,” Hannah replied. “Thanks,” I said, cheering up. “Maybe we can pop by later? And here I thought I would be sitting at Daisy’s all summer, bored solid. This is really going to be great.” “Tomorrow night, we’re all meeting up on Cradle Hill. It’s near yours, so you won’t have to travel far.” “What’s a Watch?” “It’s the annual freak show,” Mira laughed. It resounded through the coffee shop. “Oops,” she whispered, and laughed again.
“Hundreds of people descend on Warminster once a year to watch for alien encounters on top of the hill. It’s apparently the anniversary of where the first sightings were,” Hannah explained, throwing a sharp look at Mira’s joke. “It will be crowded up there, but we all go along for the laugh mostly.” “We count the signs saying ‘Take me with you,’ and ‘We mean you no harm’ and such. It’s mostly just geeks obsessed with Roswell or who’ve watched ET one too many times. They all want a spaceship to land and take them away from their sad lives. I think it’s funny,” Mira said. “What time are we meeting?” “About eleven. They have a candlelight ceremony, followed by lots of chanting,” Mira said. “Then everyone just stares at the sky. Last year it rained all night. Everyone got soaked.” We all chuckled at the imagery. “Okay, and the picnic—do you want me to bring anything? Daisy has a stocked kitchen; I could easily throw something together.” “No, it’s all taken care of. Debbie’s arranged it all. We three just need to turn up,” Hannah added. “It’s just a shame Lucinda will be there.” “Who’s Lucinda?” Hannah hung her head when the name was mentioned. It made me uncomfortable. “Oh, don’t mind Lucie. She’s miserable all the time. Just ignore her,” Mira said cheerily. “You don’t like her?” I said, with a concerned glance at Hannah. “She’s nasty, spiteful. I don’t even know why she’s going. She’ll only whinge about everything,” Hannah said. “Debbie’s and Lucie’s mothers are friends, so Debbie has to invite her. Besides, she wants to meet Rose as much as the rest of them,” Mira replied. “And she fancies Morgan like nothing else. You need to watch out for her, Rose. If she thinks you’re playing on her patch, she can be vicious,” Hannah added. “Sounds like a lovely girl. I’ll try and remember to be polite,” I said, not bothering to mask my sarcasm. They both laughed. I didn’t even know this girl and she was already a troublemaker in my eyes. If no one was going to stand up to her, she would meet her match with me around. A few people had left while we were chatting, and others came in. Initially, I noticed the looks from others, the stares and under-breath comments, but I found it easy to ignore them. I was enjoying myself too much. What they had to say was the usual, “That’s Rose Frost,” or “Who’s that with Mira Butler?” I overheard a couple of compliments about my appearance. I didn’t try to listen to most of the room, but I did try to overhear Aiden with his friends. I don’t know why but he intrigued me. I was sure I had seen his face somewhere before but couldn’t quite place it. Sadly, the level of chatter in the room and the fact that Aiden’s group was whispering made it impossible to hear anything. “So,” Mira said suddenly, “shall we go and eat? It’s nearly seven thirty.” “Yep, I’m starved. Where’s good to eat around here?” I said, not realising it was so late. “I’ve been to the Portuguese restaurant. The food is really amazing.” Hannah stood and grabbed her bag. “Let’s go there, then. I’ve never been before.” “Cool!” Mira exclaimed and ran to the counter to pay for our drinks. “Doesn’t she do anything slowly?” I said to Hannah. She shook her head. “Nope, she’s like a Tasmanian devil, and she wears me out, frequently!” We walked along to the courtyard and the dressmaker’s shop. Mira’s mum had already bought her dress for the ball, a lavender-blue long gown, from a shop in Salisbury; Hannah was having one handmade. I had no idea what would suit me but in the window was the most beautiful ruby red bodice dress with a tucked-in waist, the skirt falling to the floor in one long piece.
I rarely wore dresses but I hoped Mum would agree to transfer a bit more of my allowance than our agreed monthly figure. Both girls had unanimously decided that the ruby red dress would suit me, and I had to admit, that colour would emphasise my pale skin. “We’ll come back when it’s open,” Mira announced. “Let’s go eat. I’m starved!”
Mr. Vilhena was only too pleased to see me again, calling me “Miss Rose” at every opportunity and welcoming my “new” friends with his unending hospitality. We sat by the window and I was overjoyed when Hannah and then Mira announced that this should be our regular place. The restaurant had only a few seats taken by older couples and nobody that we recognised. We ate and chatted freely. The girls were keen to hear about my stories of schools and new towns. When we talked about boys, I clammed up, having no real experience to talk of. It was easier to ask questions than to answer them, so I interrogated Mira and Hannah about the local boys and their own boyfriend statuses. I gathered that they had both been quiet on the boyfriend front, though Mira had at least had a relationship for six months with someone called Darren Gray. “He left town, though. I was glad,” she said unaffectedly. “He was boring and expected me to spend my nights watching him and his mates play PS3. Dull or what?” “How old was he? Why did he move away?” I asked. “He was seventeen and lived on the army base. His dad was a sergeant and got a new posting up north, I think,” she replied. “Did you miss him?” “No! Not in the slightest.” “Hannah, what about you? Anyone on the horizon?” I smiled a cheeky grin at her and she giggled. “That would be telling,” she said. “You’ll just have to find out in your own time.” “Oooiioooo,” Mira and I both replied. The noise level of our conversation had increased and I noticed glances in our direction from other diners. “Shh, keep it down, guys,” I whispered, but it was hard to stop giggling. We finished and thanked Mr. Vilhena for his amazing meal. As we walked out, I looked up at the fresh evening sky, dark with shining stars and a few wisps of cloud. The chilly wind made me snuggle deeper into the warmth of my jacket, and I was quickly grasping that no matter how warm the days were, the nights were always cold. The path along the high street was brightly lit by yellow globes from the intermittent lamps. The street was almost deserted except for a few dressed-up girls and groups of guys walking to taste the town’s nightlife, much as we were. “So, who fancies a drink at Monks?” Hannah asked. “Yay!” Mira squealed and checked her watch. “Um, it’s ten thirty. Will anyone be there?” “What’s Monks?” “It’s the only club in town, and they let us in as long as we stick to nonalcoholic drinks,” Mira replied. “Let’s go! It’ll be great.” “Sure, why not? But only if I can buy the first drink,” I replied, remembering Daisy’s talk of “no rules.” “No,” Mira said. “We have to buy your drink first. You’re new, remember?” “Yep, you can’t buy your first drink. It’s bad luck,” said Hannah. “Besides, maybe somebody else might buy us all drinks.” “Like who?” I said. “Mike Silver or Aiden Deverill. They’re always in that place.” “Mike? Pah,” Mira exclaimed. “Mike is incapable of buying anyone else a drink. The skinflint. Believe me, I’ve tried!”
There was a story here that I still hadn’t heard. I was about to ask when something caught my eye, stopping me in my tracks. There was no traffic, the road quiet from the usual rumble of cars, but in the centre of the main street stood a lone figure, a boy. I recognised him instantly. He had been in the group that shouted a greeting to Daisy on my first evening here. “Help me,” he cried. His face was pinched in pain, but his voice was barely audible. “What’s wrong?” I shouted to him. The girls stopped chatting some metres ahead and watched me. “Rose, are you all right?” Hannah called, but I didn’t move, instead continuing to stare at the apparition-like boy. He wasn’t there, and then he was. His shape seemed to shimmer around the edge, and I blinked as the edges flickered around him. “Please help me. I’m scared,” he cried again. I used my eyes to zoom clearer but he didn’t move away. A car was approaching from the small road on the right. It wasn’t slowing down, either. “Move!” I yelled in anguish. “You have to move!” “HELP ME!” he screamed once more, and as the car drove into my line of sight where the boy stood, he vanished. I sucked in a breath and stepped back. “Oh my God, did you see him?” I cried at the girls who were now by my side. “Rose, we didn’t see anything,” Mira said. “There’s nothing there. Look.” Hannah pointed to the white line in the middle of the tarmac. I had seen him. I knew I had. Why hadn’t they? “He was there. I know he was,” I repeated it until Hannah put her arm around my shoulder and tried to calm me down. Then I smelled burning. My nose filled with the odor of acrid smoke, and I coughed and tried to see its origin. Behind the brewery in the sky was a thick, black plume of smoke. It hung in the air before dispersing amidst a quick breeze. I ran across the road in its direction as fast as I could. “Oh my God, he’s going to be there! You have to help me,” I cried. I turned to see Mira and Hannah sprinting after me. “What is it, Rose?” Hannah shouted but I couldn’t answer. I didn’t know myself. All I knew was that something was wrong and this boy was in trouble. As I rounded the corner to the other side, I quickened my sprint to the brewery gateway. The small back entrance was empty but I kept running, following the burning smell. I could hear the girls’ heavy steps behind me. They were close but weren’t as quick as I was. The backyard was ill-kept and rampant with weeds, and there it was, the burning car. The yellow and red flames licked the air, higher and higher, eating the oxygen and spreading until the entire car, inside and out, was alight. The fierce, unforgiving heat was immense. “He’s in there!” I yelled, and didn’t stop running. “Rose, no!” Mira cried. “It’s too late. Leave it!” “No! I need to save him!” I cried back and stepped closer to the car. The flames gnawed at the paintwork as it peeled away with the extreme heat, blowing away like powder. The closer I got, the more I heated up. I cooled my skin using a small amount of my gift. “Get away, Rose!” Hannah yelled, but I was almost within reach of the car door handle. As the smoke poured through a hole in the roof, a side window exploded outwards. I put my hands up to shield my eyes but got close enough to see through the window frame, searching for him, for a movement or a sign of the small boy. “Rose! Stop it! Come away!” the girls yelled together. I think they were crying now. Their voices changed direction as someone else approached at speed. “Get her away from the fire. She’ll be killed!”
More running feet entered the yard and I could hear someone on a phone calling emergency services. “There’s a fire, Wadham’s yard behind the brewery. Come quickly!” “Rose, get away from the car! It’s going to explode!” A new voice, a masculine voice, shouted, still some distance away. “Where are you?” I frantically yelled at the car, without looking back. “There’s someone in there. I have to get him out. Where are you?” I tried to put my hand on the door handle but even as my hand drew near, I could feel the hairs singe on my arm and I flinched away. I ran to the boot of the car. If I could just get close enough, I could release the boot and see if the boy was inside. There might still be a chance to save him. But I stopped for a second as I stared at the number plate. I knew it by heart. I could see the car clearly now. It was a black Mercedes. The very first car that had followed me along the motorway to here. The back window exploded and a fireball threw itself into the sky, knocking me backwards. I was too late in shielding my face and I felt the skin on my cheek singe down to its surface. I cried out in shock but there was little pain. I heard another scream as someone else sobbed loudly. “Rose, get away! Now!” said the man’s voice, closer to me now. I frantically tried once more to open the boot but I felt arms around me, dragging me away. “No, you don’t understand. He’s in there!” I cried. “I have to get him out.” “Rose! No! It’s too late,” he answered in my ear. “It’s too late.” The petrol tank exploded. With the force of the impact, we crashed backwards away to the ground. His weight was heavy on my back as another fireball unfurled and engulfed us with its frenzied flame. The smell of scorched clothing was everywhere, and I stayed down, not able to move under the weight of my rescuer. The yard instantly filled with more screams, Mira’s and Hannah’s, and a few more who had joined. A high-pitched siren sounded from far away and grew nearer. “Rose, your burns,” the man on top of me whispered but didn’t move. My skin was healing quickly. I felt it knitting together and sealing itself. I had no other injuries, except for a smarting jab in my shoulder when my hand landed on the floor with my full weight behind it. “I’m okay,” I said. “You?” “I’m fine. I’m going to get up now, okay?” The weight was off me and I gulped in a breath of air. A hand grabbed mine and pulled me up to stand. Somehow, I wasn’t surprised to find Aiden Deverill staring back at me. Before I could say a word, the firemen arrived and drew us away to a cooler, safer distance. The crowd that had been slowly gathering was herded away back onto the street, as the large fire engine entered the area, it’s blue lights flashing violently and the siren deafening to all. Following was a team of brightly clothed paramedics who emerged on foot through the smoke-filled yard and pulled Aiden and I around another corner to a private area for examination. A woman took me quickly to one side and asked me if I was hurt. “No, I’m fine,” I said. “I’m Louise. Now, are you sure there’s no pain? Let me take a look.” She lifted off the shreds of my torn, burnt jacket, throwing it to the floor. It was ruined. She lifted my top carefully to check the skin on my back, chest, and shoulders. She also inspected under my hairline and around my face. I knew she was stunned at the lack of injuries, but I couldn’t tell her anything. She grasped my hands to lift my sleeves checking my arms. My bracelet stung at her touch. “Nice bracelet,” she commented. “Unusual.” “Thanks, it’s a family thing,” I muttered, hoping she would get on with her job. She lowered my sleeves.
“I don’t believe it,” she kept saying under her breath. “You should have been burnt to a crisp in that fireball. Unbelievable.” She asked me to lower my trousers, as she inspected my legs, searching my skin for scorch marks. I looked around, and noticed Aiden a few metres away, getting the same treatment from another woman. His shirt was off, exposing his bare muscled chest. He grinned as I continued to stare. I hadn’t meant to. “Okay, Rose? Rose!” Louise said, getting back my attention. “You’re all good, but I’m going to check on you tomorrow, okay?” “No, it’s fine, really,” I answered. “Well, I insist. I wouldn’t be doing my job properly if I didn’t double-check.” She peered down at me under her brow and I couldn’t argue. “Okay,” I said, quickly pulling up my trousers and rearranging my top. “How are you doing, Lou?” the other ambulance woman said. “Yep, we’re all clear. Let’s go.” Louise grabbed her medical bag, joined her partner, and disappeared back towards the street. I could hear her talk into the radio that had been strapped to her jacket. They were needed elsewhere. The fire brigade had reduced the car to smoke, its metal frame barely holding itself up. I walked past Aiden, who was pulling his black sweater back on, and approached the firemen who gathered in a group, discussing the car’s removal from the yard. “Excuse me,” I said politely. “Jesus, Rose. You gave us all a shock. Are you feeling okay? No dizziness or sore throat?” one of them said, with an Irish lilt. His badge said Pritchard but I didn’t recognise him. “I’m okay. Was there anyone inside the car? I mean,” I gulped, “a body?” “The car was empty. Someone’s idea of a foolish prank, probably,” Pritchard answered. “Daisy’s waiting for you at the entrance. We’ve needed to get everyone back, away from the flames. Smoke inhalation is a killer.” “Okay, but you’re positive there was nobody inside?” “No one. Now, go home, Rose. You’ve had a long night.” Aiden and I walked in silence across the yard towards the brewery entrance that was barred by two uniformed police officers and a stretch of yellow police tape. The crowd of onlookers was large as we walked into view, and a huge cheer with clapping erupted. The police officers let us through and before I knew it, I was engulfed in arms hugging me, dragging me away. “Rose! We were so worried,” the two girls cried. I could see the pale streak of tears down their smoky faces. “Daisy’s over there. We had to call her. Sorry.” They dragged me farther away from the mass of people and I spied Daisy talking to another uniformed police officer. He wore more stripes and slashes on his black blazer so I guessed he was higher up in rank than the two at the entrance. Relief was all I saw in Daisy’s face when she saw me, and soon I was bear-hugged again by my grandmother. I tried to speak but froze, and the full terror of what I saw finally hit home. I sobbed quietly as she held me, brushing my head with her hand. “It’s okay, Rose, you’re safe now,” she whispered. “I’m sorry.” I wiped my face, ashamed to cry in the presence of strangers. I pulled away, grateful when Mira handed me a tissue. “Aiden, come here,” Daisy motioned to Aiden who had followed us, waiting a short distance behind. Daisy hugged him, too, and I heard her whisper “thank you” in his ear. He embraced her fondly, as though it wasn’t the first time he had done so. The girls were trying to remove smoke stains from their faces with the tissues. If their faces were black, I dreaded to think what mine looked like, but I was beyond caring.
“I’m sorry, you two. I didn’t mean to frighten you,” I said. “Oh, don’t be silly! Of course you did! You’re still the same old Rose. This is what you do.” They wrapped themselves around me. Mira rested her head on my shoulder. “Just don’t do it again, okay?” Mira chirped. “Okay, promise.” “Aiden saved your life. You know that, don’t you?” Hannah whispered. I nodded. As Daisy released Aiden from her viselike hug, I wandered over. I hesitated, thinking of what to say. “Thank you, Aiden.” I held out my hand for him to shake. “I’m Rose, by the way. We’ve not been officially introduced.” He laughed and grasped my hand; I felt his other arm across my back pulling me closer. “I know who you are, Rose. And you’re welcome,” he whispered in my ear. The warmth of his body and the smell of his skin were strangely reassuring, as I remembered lying on the ground with his body covering mine. Confusion muddled my head. Even after sharing such a traumatic encounter, now he was too close, and I didn’t like it. I felt weird, hypnotised almost. As though I should have been repulsed but wasn’t. I almost wanted him to hug me closer but instead I stepped back. He looked confused at my abrupt withdrawal. “Thank you again. I’m sorry if I caused any problems with your mates,” and I eyed his three friends over his shoulder. He turned to look. “You didn’t. I’ll see you around, Rose Frost.” He winked and walked back to his group. They cheered and clapped at the chivalrous hero. Mira and Hannah smirked, but I ignored their telling glances. “Right, well, I should get you home, young lady,” Daisy said. “Do you girls want to come back with us? Or do you need a lift?” They shook their heads. “No, thanks, it’s okay, Daisy. I’ve got to get home, anyway,” Mira said. “Me, too. We’ve got the bikes,” Hannah agreed. “Thanks anyway.” I gave them each another tight embrace and promised to call them in the morning. They walked away together towards the car park and were soon out of sight. Throughout this whole time, the uniformed police officer had silently watched. I’d almost forgotten he was there until the girls had gone. Daisy quickly introduced us. “Rose, this is Chief Superintendent Mark Pemberton of the Wiltshire Constabulary. He was in the area when the emergency services received the call,” she said. “Hi,” I said. “Well, Rose. You gave us all a fright, especially your grandmother,” he said with a serious smile. “I want to come by your house in the morning and take a full statement of what happened tonight, if that’s okay with you?” “Um, sure,” I looked at Daisy and she nodded reassuringly. “Okay. But I have that ambulance woman coming, too, to double-check on my injuries.” Daisy’s face was suddenly filled with concern. I shrugged. “I’m fine, honestly, but she insisted.” “Well, then, how about elevenish, Mark?” Daisy said. “Eleven it is. See you both then. And, Rose, stay out of trouble, yes?” he was mocking me, I could tell. “I will,” I smiled. Mark Pemberton walked towards the now-scattered crowd and spoke to the two officers. Daisy steered me back towards the car, only a few metres behind us. “Now, we’re going to go home, have a nice hot cup of chocolate, and you’re going to tell me everything.”
It wasn’t a question. There was no mistaking the sternness of Daisy’s tone and although I knew I wasn’t in trouble, I was aware that I had alarmed her greatly. I climbed into the car. Daisy wants to hear everything. I sighed. The only foreseeable problem now was exactly how much I should tell her.
- CHAPTER FIVE I SHOWERED AND DRESSED IN MY COMFIEST PYJAMAS, my now-ruined clothes in my arms. In the kitchen, I tucked them into an empty plastic bag and deposited them in the bin. It was a shame but the jeans were slowly shredding into pieces, and no amount of washing would ever remove the smell of burning rubber and ignited fuel from the pretty green top. “Daisy?” I shouted, upbeat as I stepped back into the empty hallway. “In here, Rose!” Daisy’s voice echoed from the study. The door was open and a shard of yellow light spilled across the hallway tiles. Daisy was at her desk, fountain pen in hand. I sank into the soft armchair opposite and looked at her. She looked neat and tidy, her short, grey hair immaculate as always, her lilac blouse hip and modern, not old-fashioned at all. The smell of old books and papers lingered in the air. A stack of leather-bound volumes were piled on the desk in front of her, but as the bindings were turned away, I couldn’t read the titles. “Daisy, I’m really sorry. Do you want to know what happened?” I didn’t want to get into Daisy’s bad book so soon after my arrival. I was willing to grovel. “Had you been drinking?” she asked, looking at me over her half-moon glasses. “No, of course not.” “Had you been smoking or taking drugs, then?” “No!” “Then why are you apologising to me?” “Because,” I shrugged. “You got worried and I didn’t mean to alarm you.” “Rose,” she put her pen down on the desk. “I realise that we’re making up the rules as we go along. But you don’t have to apologise. These things happen around us Frost women. Believe me, I know.” “You think this had something to do with me? Because I’m a Frost?” I said abruptly. “What has a burning car got to do with me?” “Why don’t you start from the beginning and tell me everything.” She sat back in her chair and picked up a cup, drinking from it slowly. I sipped from my own cup of hot chocolate. My throat was parched from the smoke, and although I could smell the resident books in the room, my senses seemed to mute out the steaming, milky chocolate just under my nose. I told her how I had seen smoke, and ran through the yard to the car. I thought I saw a boy inside, which was why I was trying to open up the car boot. The rest of the story she knew. “And you didn’t see anything else, anything unusual?” Daisy pried. “Like what?” “The girls told me you were hallucinating by the roadside. You thought you saw someone standing in the road, but they saw nothing. Is it true?” I cursed silently. Mira and Hannah would have told Daisy everything, I should’ve known better. I blew down into the steam of the hot drink, hoping to stall for a few seconds. “So, Rose, what’s it to be? Did you see the boy in the car or did you see him in the road?” Daisy asked, her tone firm. “In the road,” I whispered, keeping my eyes down. I knew I couldn’t lie. I had never really been a liar in the strictest sense. Some things had to be kept secret but that wasn’t lying; it was just hiding the truth. “Tell me again. What exactly did you see?”
I put my cup down and leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees. “I saw a boy, one of the boys that we saw out that night, one who said hello to you. He was asking for my help, crying for it. He kept vanishing and then appearing again, and no matter how hard I tried I couldn’t ‘see’ him properly.” I broke off. The fresh memory was like a recording, stuck in my head, playing over and over. I could still hear his pitiful plea. No matter how hard I bit my lip, I knew I would cry again. I cried into my hands, hiding my face, the pain of it all still too close. “And then what happened?” Daisy asked. I swallowed and wiped my cheeks. “Then I smelt the smoke. The stench made me almost gag, and I saw the sky was filled with black smoke, above the brewery roof. I ran, following the smell, and found the car.” “Why did you think the boy would be in the car?” I searched her face to see if she believed the truth of it all. I could see nothing but blankness. I shrugged again. “I don’t know. I just had a hunch. I tried to feel around, to see if anyone was in there, but the fire was blocking me. I’ve never felt that kind of barrier before. So instead I tried to open the car but then the windows blew out.” Daisy sighed and returned her cup to the desk. “Rose, you did an incredibly brave and stupid thing. Listen to me now because what I have to say is important. If it hadn’t been for Aiden shielding you from the others, your secret would be out. Do you understand what I mean?” She knew. She knew everything. Why hadn’t I trusted her from the start? We hadn’t talked about my gift at all, even though we planned to. Something else stirred that I hadn’t thought of before. “If I was burned by the fire, why wasn’t Aiden? He landed on top of me when the fireball burst out the back window. It covered us completely.” She paused. “I’ve thought about this. And I think your gift healed him, too. He was touching you, so it must have transferred to his body.” “How is that possible?” I said, aghast. “I’ve only ever healed my family from sickness, and I’ve had to concentrate really hard to make it work. But with Aiden? I didn’t even think about healing him. It was probably the last thing on my mind.” “Your gift only works with your mind set on the subject? Is that what you mean?” “Yes, exactly. My face got scorched so I fixed it. The control I have over it is absolutely pinpoint. I’m sure I would notice if my gift leaked out. This has never happened before.” “I don’t know, Rose. But, despite this, you nearly exposed yourself. You have to take more care! Secrecy must be upheld at all times. We can’t risk a story about you getting out, especially to the press. They’d have a field day,” she sighed and removed her glasses, placing them gently upright on the desk. “Daisy? Do you think Aiden’s like me? You know, different?” She sighed. “I suppose we shall find out soon enough.” I sat back to take in what I was hearing. Questions were still burning on my tongue but after I put my drink down, I hadn’t the strength to continue. “I need to go to bed.” As I stood, the room blurred in a haze. “I should think so. We’ll talk again tomorrow, and don’t worry about the police or the paramedic. I’ll deal with them.” Daisy got up and led me to the door. “You just get a good night’s sleep.” “Okay.” I staggered to the staircase and hauled myself upstairs. I didn’t bother to brush my teeth but fell onto the bed, finally lost in the darkness. In my dreams, the voice spoke to me again:
“They’re coming for it. It’s hidden behind stone. You must protect it. It belongs to you now.”
“Don’t let them take it. You must guard it. Don’t trust anyone.” “Use your powers. Hide it. Keep it safe. It is your life.” I stirred, but couldn’t wake fully. I felt a sharp pinprick in the inside corner of my elbow but didn’t open my eyes. They were too heavy. I turned to lie on my side. It went dark again. Halíka Dacomé “The girl wasn’t listening. She was in danger and I needed her to know. I stood in the shadows of the large house, not the Dacomé house but another, though they did not know I was there. I saw everything from the shadows. She had to know the peril she was in. The black-haired boy entered the room and waited. With his back to the boy, the old man continued plotting points on a wall map. “Did it go according to plan?” said the old man, without turning around. He continued putting pins into the map. “More importantly, were you seen?” “The plan went ahead with one slight hitch, but I wasn’t seen initially.” The old man spun round to look at the boy. He wasn’t really a boy even, but a young man. His six-foot frame was large, strong, his shoulders powerful. His skin was perfect and clear, as would have been expected, but his sapphire-blue eyes shone with radiance and wildness. This young man was troubled, and he knew why. He scanned the boy’s face before speaking. “SO, YOU RESCUED HER?” the old man’s shout made the boy shrink a little. “I had to. I had no other choice.” He pointed his finger roughly at the boy. “You could have thrown her into the fire, that’s what you could have done. Then it would save me the task of killing her myself.” “She had friends with her. They would have seen.” “Who? Which friends?” The boy sighed before speaking. “Mira Butler and Hannah Sambourne. They were with her when I returned to the car.” “The Butler girl and the Sambourne girl are unimportant. You know there has to be sacrifices if we are to reach our final goal.” “It was too risky. I wouldn’t have had time.” The old man paced in front of the boy. The bare wooden floorboards shuddered as he walked. “So, come on, what’s she like?” “She’s different, older almost. And pretty. She was at the coffee shop with Mira and Hannah first, and then they went to eat. I followed them to make sure they were out of the way. I had no idea she would smell the fire.” The old man peered into the boy’s face, as if searching for something. “So you saved her and now you’re the big hero. This could work well for us after all.” “Yes, sir.” The boy hesitated before continuing. “What exactly are you going to do when you get her? Are you really going to kill her first? Or drain her blood? You know Daisy will stop you.” “I’m sure of it. The old lady will guard her well from the house. Her new friends will guard her outside. The trackers will guard her around the town. But her time will come; we just have to wait for the opportunity when she gets lost in the middle. As for her death, I haven’t decided yet. I’m thinking of draining her, or possibly just extracting her heart and keeping her body so her gift remains fresh.” The boy’s face fell in horror. “That’s monstrous. The Seven will never agree to it. You can’t do that to an innocent girl.” “Don’t think for one minute that she’s innocent—she isn’t. You know that. She killed your parents. She deserves death, as you deserved life.” “That’s what you keep telling me,” the boy answered with annoyance. “Just remember, though, Grandfather. Rose Frost didn’t kill them. It was Halíka Dacomé. There’s a difference.”
The old man continued. “Do you think the girl knows yet?” The boy shook his head. “Maybe. She wears the bracelet. I saw it for a short time, but I don’t think she has any idea.” “So, she’s unaware of her true identity and her destiny, even though she holds the other Dacomé bracelet. That’s quite poetic, don’t you think?” He lifted his sleeve to inspect his own bracelet, the saltire cross joined underside by one bar. He lowered his sleeve and continued. “She may think she’s ordinary, with issues like boyfriends, vanity, and angst. She has no idea at the power she will soon be able to harness. We have to stop her before she integrates, then we will be—almighty.” He smirked at this last comment. “But you said all along she would know of her fate. She’s sixteen now. The Primord Elementals change at sixteen,” the boy barked back. “‘Integrate,’ dear boy, not ‘change.’ You know better than that. If it happens, it will be soon, so we must act quickly. The next few days are crucial. As for her being blind to her fate, well, it makes it more exciting, don’t you think? I’ve always loved a good chase. But, we have to find out why she doesn’t know. That’s intriguing. Daisy’s been holding back for some reason.” “How are you going to find that out?” “Not me, boy. You. You’re going to find out everything, and then tell me.” Ben Deverill turned back to his map, looking pleased at his own plan. “But⎯” “When will you see her again?” The old man turned around. “She’ll be at the Annual Watch tomorrow night.” “Interesting. So, you must attend also. Get close to her. Pretend to like her. Take her out, give her a good time.” “And then?” “Then we find her weakness and close in for the kill. You’re the key. Find out everything you can.” “It won’t be easy. Morgan McCaw lives with them. He won’t let me get too close.” “That little pipsqueak is as insignificant as the rest of them. I should have killed his parents when I had the chance.” The old man paused, stuck on a fleeting memory. “Kill him if you have to. Just get close to the girl.” The old man turned his back; the boy knew the conversation was over. He turned and walked out the door, and stopped at the top of the stairs to listen. He frowned. The sound he heard was his grandfather laughing to himself. “Aiden,” the man said gruffly. “What?” The boy returned a cold stare. “Don’t start having feelings for this girl. She is the enemy, you understand?” “Yes, Grandfather.” The boy walked down the stairs and into a small room away from his grandfather’s keen ears. He dialled a number on his mobile, put the phone to his ear, and spoke. “Spencer, it’s me. We need more watchmen tomorrow night. Can you arrange it?” He listened and waited, then briefly answered with few words. “She’s going to be there and we need to be vigilant.” Rose I was up early the next morning and ate breakfast as Daisy slept. I wanted to visit the cottage before she was up, check again for this mysterious object that I had to find. Morgan had still not arrived home, so I had to act quickly in case he unexpectedly returned. My dream last night had been weird. Aiden was in it, but I couldn’t remember much else, which bothered me. I had become quite accustomed to recalling my dreams and writing them down with precise detail. I felt cheated. It was not even seven o’clock as I stole into the garden to the cottage. The door opened quietly, and I crept inside. The room was the same, calm and silent. The begonia sensed my presence immediately and it gave a shiver of delight as I leaned over to the windowsill and brushed my fingers against the new green shoots appearing on its stalk.
An idea instantly struck me that I’d never tried before. If the plant was responding to me so vividly, it could help save time with my investigation. With one silver tendril extended from my fingers, I sunk it into the begonia’s soil and mentally imagined a buried item behind rock or stone. Something hidden. Something where a gap in stone appeared like a cavity and an object placed, with a brick hiding it from sight. Human sight, I emphasised. No, it said. It couldn’t help; the cottage had only been its home for a few weeks. I sighed, disappointed. A new image crept into my head. The yucca in the tall pot by the back door was the oldest; it had lived here since the cottage was built, the begonia said. Thanking the pink plant, I closed the back door behind me and sought out the yucca. The tall terracotta pot was covered in green moss, but the long swordlike leaf shards of the yucca plant hinted of age. This plant was old. Respectfully asking for permission first, I sank my silver veins into the green moss-covered earth. Again, I flashed images of anything hidden behind stone. Old and wise one, have you seen this? I asked. A room downstairs flashed stacked with cardboard boxes, suitcases, an old lampshade, a bicycle. Nothing else? I asked. Nothing. The images continued to flicker across my eyes. But the patch of daisies near the apple tree had been planted last spring. A wooden item was underneath but not under stone. The clover shoots were irritated as they had to push their way around the thick wooden base. How deep? I asked. The low wall around the cottage flickered. Around half a metre? I checked. Yes. Please remove the square. We don’t like its touch. It hums and prevents our flowers from sleeping, and they wilt prematurely. The noise, the hum, hurts the roots. Thanking the yucca again, I promised a garden of sleep for them all once I had retrieved the box. This box was under the earth, but the one I was searching for was behind stone. Were they the same? Had someone got their wires crossed somehow or had I misunderstood? I would investigate, anyway. It was still early. The birds chirped around the garden in the early dawn sun, which was a sure sign that no one else was around. Moving to the centre of the lawn, I stood and closed my eyes. Extending my gift to the house, I sought Daisy’s essence. She was still upstairs, moving between two rooms. Collecting laundry, maybe? I blinked my eyes open in the morning sunshine, now much brighter. The lofty apple tree stood halfway along the wall. It hadn’t borne fruit of late; the buds were brown and rotten on the stems,. Then I recognised the sick daisies below. The white petals were few on each flower head, bending back against the sunrays. The stems were marked with blight and aphids, and the bigger leaves underneath had been chewed by snails and grown badly gnarled. This patch was sick, and the earth looked undernourished, empty of any nutrients. Kneeling close to the flower patch, palms downs, I leaned over the area, slowly moving each hand in circles to feel for an abnormal source underground. As I moved my left hand closer, I felt a vibration, faint but resilient, which pricked the underside of my skin like a sting. Waving the small area further, I ignored the uncomfortable tingling and could feel a clear square against the solid ground elsewhere. I pulled at the earth, using only my hands, digging it up, piling it around the edge in heaps. The farther I dug, the more distinctive the vibrations. Halfway down the hole, the soil colour had distinctly altered. It was no longer the usual ochre colour; the dull brown seams threading their way through the layers were clearly visible. It was while I rubbed some soil from under my nails that I stopped, midmotion. I felt a stranger moving close by and heard a noise behind me. The soft footfalls were getting closer. It wasn’t Daisy. Her steps would have been lighter.
The grass crackled under another heavy weight as the slow steps got closer. I stopped my movement completely and remained still, ready, waiting. Two metres away, then one metre. Without hesitation, I leapt back. My hand impacted the throat. I kicked the ankles aside, and down the figure went, hard, my hand clenched tight around the throat of the most beautiful boy I had ever seen. It wasn’t the short blond hair that tapered across his forehead into his eyes. It wasn’t his suntanned, immaculate skin that emphasised his cheekbones and jaw. Or even his full red lips that puckered and grimaced slightly under my unforgiving grasp. In fact, it wasn’t any of those things, but it was all of those things. He was just dazzling, beautiful. His blue eyes edged with dark brown lashes glistened as they stared at me in amazement and wonder. My heart plunged deep into my stomach, and I felt lightheaded. My hands were a little shaky, but I held on. “Hi, Rose,” he croaked. His muscular throat twitched under my grip. “Huh?” To my horror, he wasn’t the only one creeping around; Daisy had witnessed the whole thing. She leaned out from an upstairs window with an amused grin. I had been concentrating so hard on my attack that I had forgotten to check on her whereabouts again. “Ah, I see you two have met!” She was dressed to go out, a wax jacket slung over one arm while the other held the side swing window handle. “Who is he, Daisy, and why was he creeping up on me?” I said, without taking my eyes off the target. “Morgan meet Rose. Rose, meet Morgan. You can let him go now, Rose,” she ordered. In disgust, I released him with a slight shove, and sat on the grass while Morgan massaged his throat and neck, brushing away soil in the process. “I wasn’t creeping,” he answered with a glare. My breath caught for a moment as I glared back, unable to let go of his thrilling, expressive eyes. “Well, I’ll leave you two to get to know each other,” Daisy laughed again. “And Rose, clear up that mess you’ve made. I’ll be back by eleven o’clock to meet your policeman.” Looking up at her, I saw her discerning expression as she eyed the hole. So much for being secretive. They had both caught me in the act. “Okay, sorry, Daisy,” I muttered, and then shouted, “Oh, remember the paramedic, too!” “Her, too. I’ll see you both later. Please try to get along,” she answered. The window closed as she disappeared out of sight. Neither Morgan nor I acknowledged her leaving as we continued to glare at each other. “You were creeping!” I yelled. “Hey, I saw you sneaking out of my house! I wanted to see what you were burying.” “Next time, mind your own business.” “So, what were you doing?” “Nothing!” He stood, offering me a hand. I ignored it and got up. “Were you burying something or digging it up?” he said casually as he peered down into the opening. “I said, mind your own business. You were supposed to be back ages ago.” That seemed to rattle him. “Oh, so I should apologise for not conforming to your plans? Did I disrupt your stay with my absence?” he yelled. “Why are you being so annoying?”
“I don’t know. It might be something to do with you attacking me.” “You’re lucky I didn’t just punch you in the solar plexus,” I said, gritting my teeth. “Then you’d really be sorry.” He grinned and rubbed the back of his neck. “Maybe. So, you’re not going to tell me what you were doing in my house or what you’ve been doing here.” “Correct. It’s none of—” “None of my business. Yes, you’ve said that already.” He smiled again and for the first time, I looked at him closely. His blue sweater was pulled tightly over his muscular frame, emphasizing his strong stomach and agile, thick arms. His shoulders were relaxed now, pushing his strong chest towards me. His jeans showed off his narrow waist and long, solid legs. His gorgeous blond hair glistened with sunbeams. I was mesmerised. There was no doubt that he was stronger than I was but I had levelled him so easily. “You’ll have to show me how you did that, by the way,” he grinned. “That was impressive!” I laughed out loud, suddenly ashamed of my actions. I nervously pulled a finger through my ponytail hair and tugged at imaginary knots. “It was just basic self-defence.” “Sure, it was. I could have taken you if you hadn’t caught me off guard. I thought you’d just stand up and say hi, not grab my throat.” His tone was teasing but enthralling also. I smiled as I relaxed. “I have to clear this up.” I motioned to the hole in the garden bed. I waited for him to leave but he stayed put. “You can go now.” “No. I want to know.” His persistently stubborn chin stuck out as he folded his arms across his chest. “Fine,” I growled. “But don’t get in my way.” I knelt again and continued digging with my fingers. “Do you want a shovel?” Morgan said. I groaned. “No, just shut up.” A few more centimetres down, my nails scratched the surface of something hard. My fingertips tingled more as I scraped the dirt and soil away and cleared the edge around the box. I pushed farther down each side to feel its depth and wedged my fingers under the bottom. Carefully, I pulled it out and laid it on the grass. Morgan knelt down to scrutinize the dark wooden casing. “How did you know it was down there?” I gave him a glare. “Right, none of my business. Here, let me take it to the cottage and clean it up. It looks like it’s been down there for a while.” He lifted the box as if it weighed no more than a feather and walked to the cottage door. I turned back and felt again into the hole in case I’d left anything, but it was clear and normal again. I quickly pushed the soil back down until the surface was almost level, except for a small divot that I couldn’t fill. I stood and brushed my hands over the garden, removing the majority of the dirt. Inside the cottage, Morgan had wiped the box clean with a wet towel and placed it on the small table in front of the sofa. He was eyeing it as I walked in. “So, what do you think? Roman? Viking? Pagan? Or something else?” he said. “I think something else.” “Yeah, me, too. These markings are unusual, foreign. The question is, was it Daisy who buried it in the garden? If it was, why there? There are a hundred places she could have stashed it in the house.” “I have no idea. About any of it.” I sat next to him and we both continued to marvel at the box. It was dark wood but highly polished with markings engraved around the edges of every side. The top of the lid remained plain, clean of engravings or etchings.
“Are you going to open it?” I thought for a second. “No.” “No? You find this stunningly beautiful box and you’re not even going to see what’s inside?” He raised one eyebrow in surprise. “No.” “Why not?” “Because it’s none of your business. I don’t even know you, so stop questioning me,” I retorted with impatience. “You won’t open the box because you don’t know me? Or is it that you’re scared of what’s inside?” “I’m not ready for whatever’s inside.” “It could be just old jewellery or a pen and ink set. It could even be King Alfred’s missing treasure.” “What missing treasure?” My history was good but I had no idea what he meant. “Alfred had a big battle nearby. Rumour has it that on the day before he fought, he buried or hid his most beloved items secretly to prevent the risk of pillaging should he lose.” “That’s not what’s in there.” He stood and leaned over the box at me. “How will you know if you don’t open it?” I paused, remembering Daisy’s words on our first night out. “Daisy said I could trust you.” “Yes, you can,” he said with a smirk. “With my life?” He nodded. “Yes.” “So, if I show you something, do you promise to keep it a secret, even from Daisy?” He looked thoughtful for a moment. “Okay.” I breathed out with full lungs and stood in front of the box. I took one more look at Morgan, his attention fixed on me. I slowly wiped my right hand over the lid, barely touching it. As soon as my hand met the centre point, a silvery light flashed brightly for a second before dying out, leaving a silver mark, like a symbol, in core centre of the box. “Whoa,” Morgan staggered back a few feet, before gasping. “That’s why I don’t want to open it.” I gazed at him, hoping he would understand my meaning. “I don’t know what’s inside but it could be something I don’t want to see.” “You mean like Pandora. Once you open it, it’ll change everything.” “Exactly.” We were quiet again for a few moments, and our thoughts were only disturbed when his phone rang. He answered it quickly. “Yes? Hannah! How are you?” Silence. “Yes, she’s here with me!” He handed me the phone and I was so relieved to hear Hannah’s voice. “Hey, you!” “Hey, yourself!” I replied, trying to gather some composure. “What you up to today? Anything?” Morgan was looking at me oddly. “Not much. Why?” “A friend of ours needs some help with something. I wondered if you and Morgan could come over?” “Um, I can. I don’t know what he’s doing. Let me ask him.” I put the phone to my chest and kept my voice to a whisper.
“Firstly, can you hide this box here?” He acknowledged with a nod. “Secondly, Hannah wants us to help out a friend. Are you free today?” “Let me speak to her,” he said, motioning for the phone. “Hannah, what’s happened?” Silence. “Oh my God, tell him we’ll be there as soon as we can. Yes, we’ll meet at his house. Bye.” Something awful had transpired and Morgan was suddenly agitated in his movements. Having placed the box in a small store cupboard under some old blankets, he started pacing around the small floor space. “What is it? What’s happened?” He stopped suddenly. “You’ve heard about the disappearances? Henry Cole, Percy Dunbar, Charlotte Mandel, and Regina Stoy?” “I know something of the first two. I haven’t heard of the others.” “Well, add our friend Jez’s dad to it.” “Jez?” “Short for Jeremy.” “When did he go missing?” “Three days ago.” He walked to the windowsill and leaned his hands on it, staring out into the garden. “Damn it! I should have been here.” I jumped as he pounded the windowsill with both fists. “You weren’t to know. What could you have done? Nothing.” I walked to him and put my hand on his shoulder. “What’s our plan? Wait for the police?” “No, the police probably won’t find anything. Luckily, Jez’s dad horded information like a conspiracy theorist. He was sure that the council was up to something they shouldn’t have been. We should find something in his files. That’s why Hannah needs our help.” “Okay, then let’s go!” I opened the door. Morgan hadn’t moved from the window. He seemed reluctant to follow. “Rose, are you sure you want to get involved? Even after last night?” He looked me in the eyes and shrugged one shoulder down. “Yes, I know about what happened.” I was slowly realising that in this small town, nothing was sacred and everything got noticed. Morgan hadn’t had time to speak to Daisy, I was sure, so someone else must have furnished him with the facts, such as they were. But I trusted Morgan, even though I’d only just met him, and I think he knew it. I scowled. “You’re well informed. I want to be involved, especially after last night. You never know, I might find some answers to my own questions while we’re at it.” He smiled. “Okay, then let’s get those questions answered. Exactly which ones are they?” “None of your business,” I snickered. He laughed as we walked back towards the house.
- CHAPTER SIX -
“SO WHERE DOES JEZ LIVE?” I SAID as we drove along the lane from Daisy’s. Morgan’s black Audi turned through the corners and smoothly tackled the badly tarmacked lane. “Bishopstrow. It’s on the Salisbury road. It won’t take long,” Morgan said. He stopped at the end junction and waited for two cars to pass. Soon we passed through the main town and turned left, then right onto the small road, with identical semidetached houses on either side. Morgan brought the car to a purring halt as I glimpsed a very tidy-looking house with small garden and lawn in front. I got out, slamming the door closed, and waited for him. As Morgan passed through the small garden gate, the front door opened. Hannah stood in the doorway. She stepped out of the way as someone else came forward. A tall, black-haired boy with spiky, gelled hair greeted us with a wide grin. “Hey, Morgan,” he said with a tentative smile. “Hey, mate,” Morgan said back. They shook hands and shared a short manly hug. “How are you holding up?” “I’m okay. The police came round earlier. No more news.” Jez folded his arms and stared at me. A big grin told me he was glad to see me. “Jez, meet Rose,” Hannah said, introducing us. “Hi, Rose. Nice to see you finally.” He put his hand forward and I shook it. Then Hannah stood by my side and draped an arm around my shoulder. “You okay after last night?” she said, her voice worried. “Yeah. Less said about that, the better.”. Morgan and Jez both laughed. I deduced from Jez’s and Hannah’s fleeting looks that Jez had heard most of the story from her. Jez piped up. “Come in. I’m upstairs,” and led us into the house. While the others started talking in the hallway, I turned my back and used my gift. There was no one else home. If I was going to ask and answer questions, I wanted to know exactly who else was within earshot. It was small inside but comfortable. Off the hallway, I could see into the lounge and kitchen. The walls were mostly lilac, the carpet beige. The decor was a little too spartan, though, as though the house had not been privy to a woman’s touch in a long time. The shelves were bereft of ornaments and sides were devoid of family photographs. The television remote controls were halfway down the arm of the settee. It was definitely just Jez and his dad usually living here. As I turned back around, Morgan raised an eyebrow at me. I gave him a one-sided smile before looking away. When Jez turned to walk upstairs, it was the first time I noticed his emo punkishness. His hair was dyed black and very spiky, and his trousers had buckles and chains attached. The black T-shirt was of a rock band I’d never heard of. He wasn’t what I expected at all. I’d imagined a geekish bookworm with thick-rimmed glasses. It was funny how wrong I could be in my perception of people. At the back of the house, we walked into his room, which again looked comfortable and tidy. His desk was an array of books, charts, and papers. The walls were full of bookshelves and posters of more unfamiliar rock groups. Hannah and I sat on his bed, while Morgan sat opposite next to the desk. “So, are you ready?” Jez said. “What do you know?” Morgan looked at a stack of books piled on the floor near his feet. “What happened?”
Jez didn’t answer Morgan’s question. “Firstly, Rose, do you know anything about Imber?” he asked. “Um, not really. Only that it was a village in the middle of Salisbury Plain and it’s now derelict. The army uses it for training practice.” I was glad I’d done my research before my arrival here. Apart from that, I had little else to offer. “Oh, Daisy used to live there when she was a girl.” “Really? I didn’t know that,” Morgan said, giving me an amused smirk. Jez glowered at him before continuing. “Imber is a village directly in the centre of Salisbury Plain, as you know.” Jez raised his eyes at Hannah and Morgan, grinning. “The Plain is a huge expanse of chalk plateau that largely takes over 300 miles of Wiltshire’s area. Another site on ‘Jez’s Magical Mystery Tour’ is, of course, Stonehenge, otherwise called ‘the Druid’s timepiece.’ Let’s not forget our next-door neighbour, the Westbury White Horse, which is in Bratton and not Westbury.” He had my full attention now; even Morgan was waiting for Jez to continue. “But Imber’s story ended after the Second World War began. During 1943 the citizens of the village were given forty-seven days notice to leave their homes for the war effort. Given false promises of a return, the people left their homes to do their bit. Shortly after the U.S. Army moved in and used the area for close combat and live-firing practice, getting ready for their war in Europe. Once the war ended, the war ministry wouldn’t allow a single person to move back to the village. The people of Imber were allowed to visit on certain days of the year, either to visit graves or attend a yearly church service at the Church of St. Giles, but nothing else. That was it. Their family histories and all landmarks are now gone. The houses are now crumbling ruins and wouldn’t be fit to live in, anyway.” “So, why do you want us to research it?” Hannah said. Jez breathed slowly before he continued. “The church, St. Giles, is 13th century. The 15thcentury wall paintings are priceless. It’s one of the oldest in the county. The walls and ceiling are slowly crumbling and it’s suffering from subsidence.” At that moment, he looked down into his hands. “My dad was investigating an image found on one of the walls. Rumour has it that it was ‘out of place’ to a 15th-century painting.”
“What kind of image?” Hannah said. “Well, I don’t know, hence the research. My dad was always on some quest, Rose, busy researching this and that. I couldn’t keep track of all his projects.” “So, you think someone kidnapped him, because of something he found in the church?” I said. I thought it was an obvious question. “My dad went missing three days ago and no one has seen him since,” Jez said, sorrow running across his furrowed brow. “Few people knew of his research, but somebody wanted him silenced.” Morgan and Hannah bounced glances off each other. For some reason, I wasn’t getting the full story, I could tell, but I let it go for now. If it was a trust issue with Jez, I knew I had to earn it. “Have the police anything to go on at all?” Hannah asked. “He was on the top of Arn Hill and then, I don’t know, just vanished,” Jez said. His whole manner had changed since our welcome. His posture was now slouched, dispirited. “Isn’t that the same hill that Agatha Millard was found on?” I said. “Yes, it is.” “What was he doing there?” “He was checking for ley lines from the hilltop. There’s a clear view to Cley Hill and beyond. I don’t know whether it’s true, I’ve never checked. But he was on to something and I think that’s why they’ve taken him,” he answered. I was beginning to get lost with the information. I must’ve looked puzzled as he continued.
“Ley lines were discovered long ago. They’re natural lines that link old buildings, circle stones, prominent hills, forts, and sometimes churches and cathedrals. It is said that the straight lines hold some kind of energy, possibly a beacon, and they often finish at pagan ritual sites, in Wiltshire particularly. They’ve often been linked to UFOs which, of course, Warminster is famed for.” Their faces showed knowing expressions, but mine was filled with amazement. I had never heard of these lines, but Jez was, for a moment, lost in his own thoughts. Hannah stared at me, although I couldn’t tell why. “Jez, who do you think has taken him? You must have some ideas,” I said. “I do, but I don’t want to involve anyone else with my assumptions.” He gave me a wry grin. “No offence, Rose, but I just want to find my dad and this research will help.” “Okay,” I said, feeling vexed. “All of you can keep the cryptic going for as long as you want. But if you don’t tell me what you know, I’m out of here,” I stood up and walked to the door. “Rose, just wait, please.” Morgan held his hands up. “It’s not about you. We’re just being careful.” “Ever since I arrived, I’ve heard the strangest stories. If you can’t tell me, then why did you even bother calling for my help?” I pleaded. “If I’m going to help, you have to tell me what’s going on.” “I know, Rose,” Hannah said softly. “It’s just—” “Just what?” I answered quickly. “We don’t want this to get back to Daisy,” Jez finished Hannah’s words. “Daisy? You think she’s involved? No way,” I said, too quickly, though in truth, I really wouldn’t know if she was or not. “We don’t think she’s involved,” Hannah said, her voice still soft. “She’s asked Jez to stop interfering. To leave it for her to deal with, get some answers, quiz the police more, and hopefully find him with her own sources. Her friend Maggie’s husband, Percy Dunbar, is missing, too.” “And I can’t just sit back because she says so. I’m sorry, Rose, I know she’s your grandmother but this is my dad. Wouldn’t you do the same for yours?” Jez said. “Okay, Daisy told you to leave it alone and she’ll deal with it. Why would she do that?” I said, puzzled. “She’s well connected with the police. She’s worked with New Scotland Yard before, and other authorities,” Morgan replied. “But you don’t think that her sources are going to find your dad?” Jez shook his head. “Because?” “Because of who’s involved, who we think is behind the disappearances,” Hannah said. “Sorry. Now I’m even more confused,” I said. “Going back to Daisy, okay? She told you to leave it, but you think or you know that she won’t find out any more information. How am I doing?” The three of them nodded. “And you think Daisy is telling you to leave it because she knows who’s really behind it?” They all nodded again. “And whoever is behind it is meticulous in leaving no traces or evidence so there would be no proof for the police to find, anyway?” Again, agreement. I continued. “For God’s sake, don’t you see? Daisy’s protecting you. If you find out the same thing as Jez’s father, you’re in danger of the same fate!” “We know. But my dad went out one day and never returned. Daisy was the first person I called. If anyone would know where he might be, she would. Daisy and my father go way back. She spoke to the police and they’re keeping her informed with the ongoing inquiry. But it was Daisy who told me the police wouldn’t find anything,” Jez said.
“So, you think that Daisy not only knows who is behind it all but may be protecting him?” “No, she’s not protecting him, but she knows how dangerous he is.” Jez held up a book. “I need to figure it out from the start. I will not let my dad down. If I don’t try, I might lose him. He’s all I’ve got.” “Who do you think is behind this? And don’t tell me to stay out of it. I’m here now and I can help, especially with Daisy,” I said. “We hoped you’d say that.” Hannah beamed at Jez. Morgan shook his head and stared at me. “What are friends for?” I answered. “So, come on. Tell me, please!” “Rumour has it that Ben Deverill has been doing some shady deals for a while now. He’s the governor of the local council for the area. He gives the impression of only doing well for the town. There’s been a new school, converted town buildings, repairs to the old theatre, new care facilities for the elderly. We even have a new hospital, although it’s only in planning stages at the moment,” Morgan said. “It sounds like he’s doing well, and what growing town wouldn’t want those things?” Hannah asked. “But what isn’t widely known is that he’s buying large areas of land around the outskirts of the town, all in the council’s name, all above board,” Jez continued. “And?” The confusion was coming around again. “We think some of the land is old war ministry land, what is now the Ministry of Defence. You see, the army’s getting smaller and they don’t need so much space any more. But we also think that Ben is buying up the old premises belonging to the missing persons. You know about Agatha Millard? Well, I bet anything that Ben bought the house from Daisy using the council as a front.” Jez’s face was deadly serious; this wasn’t a game or history project anymore. “Have you found any proof?” I said. “There’s got to be signed papers or copies of the land registry in the town library. Usually those documents have to be available for the public to view.” I was met with blank stares. I explained. “My dad taught me a few house moves ago about legal documents. We’ve moved a lot.” It was true—my dad thought it would be useful for me to learn in case something terrible happened to them. He’d started with house deeds and continued forward from there. “So, you think that Ben Deverill is behind your dad going missing?” “I do, but Daisy has officially tied my hands,” Jez said, his voice soft. “Although unofficially …” He was tough, I’d give him that much. Jez’s exterior was rock solid, which he probably encouraged with the use of his image—his jet-black hair and Goth appearance—but he was kind and seemed to care very deeply for his father. I had no idea about Daisy, though. She must surely be able to find something if she had contacts with Scotland Yard; even her mutually amicable relationship with Mark Pemberton proved that she was a trusted ally. I realised that I still knew very little about her. We hadn’t really spent much time together for me to get a bearing on her life. I didn’t know who her friends were, having never met them, or where she went when she popped out. All I knew was that I’d have to be more vigilant from now on. “Right, then,” I said. “Let’s start at beginning. Why does Ben Deverill want land and old houses? Have the disappearances been linked specifically?” “What do you mean?” Morgan said. “Well, have you marked on a map the houses or land that’s been bought by Mr. Deverill?” I looked for a map around the room but couldn’t see one. “There’s got to be a clue here somewhere. I mean, is it particular areas or buildings that he’s interested in? Is he looking for something? Are there mines or underground shelters? We need to chart this. Have you got a town map, Jez?”
He knelt to reach for something under the bed and pulled out a long tube. “This is a new ordinance survey map,” he said, extracting the roll of paper. “My dad was checking it out for recently discovered burial mounds. I kept it hidden from the police in case they took it.” “Let’s have a look, then. Open it up.” We sat on the floor around the newly unrolled map. Jez started to mark with pencil various points pertaining to woods, areas void of houses, and the outskirts of town. Soon we were staring at a very different picture, although it still didn’t yield any clues for me. “I don’t see anything peculiar,” I pointed out. The crosses circled the outer perimeter of the town with a few exceptions, but there was nothing out of the ordinary. “I don’t, either,” Hannah said. “We’re missing something. We need to go back further in time. Before Agatha Millard’s death,” Morgan said. “How long has Ben Deverill been governor?” I asked. “Eight years,” Morgan said. “I think I need to check the locations again and the histories. Just to see if I’ve missed anything,” Jez said. A new spark had ignited in him; his approach was more hurried now, as if he had purpose again. “Okay, Jez, you start on that, but tell me,” I said, “what exactly was your father researching? It might be the key to all this.” I pointed to the map that he was now hanging on a pin board. Jez handed me a book. “Well, this is what I started with. You can read through the passages and see if you can find anything useful.” I opened the cover and flicked through the first pages. The book was dated 1947 and was simply called Imber: A History. “What an original title,” I laughed. “Look for anything in it about St. Giles Church, the Parish, or the wall paintings,” Jez said, handing me some sheets of paper and coloured pens. “For different references you think might be appropriate,” he said at my quizzical expression. “Ah, okay,” I answered. “Blue Peter style.” “You’ve got it.” Jez turned and handed a pile to Hannah who had been sitting quietly. She wasn’t always a giver in conversation but when she had her mind made up and had reached some verdict, she would give her opinion, and she was normally right. It was one of her most endearing qualities. While Hannah and I read, Jez and Morgan popped downstairs. I could hear them in full discussion but I didn’t listen closely. They arrived a little while later with a plate of sandwiches and cans of drink. We had missed lunch, having been so preoccupied with our search. We ate in silence, lost in our own endeavours. I started reading through the fragile pages, and nibbled on my last sandwich. Much of the book was written in such complex text, it was difficult to extract exact mentions of the church as most related to the parish in general. There were a few vague references; one mentioned the church font, which was apparently priceless, and another couple mentioned murals on the walls. “Were the murals in the church any good?” I asked. “Yes, they were quite innovative apparently. Way ahead of their time. The artists are, of course, unknown. Here’s another book, with pictures,” Jez said, handing it over. “Ah, I like pictures,” I grinned at him. The pictures were crude pen-and-ink copies of the murals made before the walls of the church had been destroyed. The usual churchlike images of Mary, Jesus, God, and angels were included. I flicked through a couple but they were all similar in artistic style.
The last picture was of something I hadn’t seen before. It was a mural depicting a scene of a house, possibly a farmhouse. On the wall of the house was a circle with three starlike points of an equilateral triangle. It seemed out of place in a church, that much was clear. “Have you ever seen this before?” I asked, holding the page open. “Maybe it’s a symbol for the three wise men?” Hannah said, putting her book down. “But on the side of a house, in a mural?” Morgan rubbed his forehead in frustration. “Does it give any information about the house? Has the mural got a name?” “There’s nothing,” I said. “I’ll look through some others, see what I can find.” I started flicking through an old history of Wiltshire and had a thought. “I wonder if we’re looking in the wrong place. I mean, these are history books. What about an art book? We need something from local artists back through the ages.” “I don’t know. I think I’ve seen the house before, and the symbol, but I can’t think where,” Jez said thoughtfully. He turned and started thumbing through other books. “Here. What about this?” He showed a page from a newer paperback. The picture was of a shield used in old warfare. The three stars made up an emblem in the centre of the wooden circle. This time the stars were clearly shown: each had five sides, much like a pentagram. One was white, one red, and the other blue. “That’s got to be it but isn’t it too much of a coincidence? There must be lots of three-starred icons around,” I said, not wanting to dash any hopes. “Where’s this shield from?” Hannah asked. “It was used by King Alfred during his battle at Edington,” Jez read from the description. “It says ‘he had in his employ a soothsayer who implored him to use the shield for it would save his life.’ He also had an alchemist in his camp who tried to find an elixir for long life.” Jez looked up at us. “Where is the shield now?” I asked. “Salisbury Museum.” “So do we think this is a clue?” Morgan said. “It’s got to be. I’m going to look on the Internet for any more information.” He turned and switched on his computer. “Maybe I can find some more references to the three stars and the origins.” “So the big question now is,” I pointed out, “what has the Imber Church got to do with Ben Deverill buying land around Warminster? It doesn’t make sense.” We all stared at one another for a moment. Not one of us could think of an answer. “Tell me about Ben Deverill. What do you know about him?” I asked, trying to find a new angle. Hannah and Jez both looked at Morgan, who appeared to be considering my question with great thought. I breathed out a frustrated sigh. “Yet again, I’m missing something, and you won’t tell me what it is.” “Rose, please don’t.” Morgan muttered as I grabbed my coat ready to put it on. I’d had enough. If they didn’t trust me, then they could do without me. “You told me I could trust you earlier, remember, Morgan? So why can’t you trust me?” I implored. “I do trust you, Rose,” he murmured. “I’ll tell you the basics.” “The basics?” “Yeah. The basics. Ben has been around forever. He’s been head of the council for eight years. He’s Aiden’s grandfather and rules Aiden with an iron fist. Now Aiden works for him. The Deverills have always been bad news, but somehow, Ben always seems to win back his seat as governor,” Morgan explained. “Is Ben married? Any other children or grandchildren?”
“He’s not married. At least, I don’t think so. He’s only ever had Aiden to look after,” Hannah answered. “Yeah, after your parents refused to have the evil, conniving swine-bag,” Jez sniggered at Morgan who glowered back. “You’re going cryptic again,” I declared. Morgan’s stare darkened. A pregnant pause ensued and Hannah interjected awkwardly. “Look, guys, we’re not getting anywhere. Why don’t we call it a day? Jez, you carry on your research. I’ll do some of my own. Rose, search Daisy’s study. She’s bound to have something there. Morgan, you can help Rose.” It was agreed by all, but I glared at Morgan again. He refused to meet my gaze and turned away. Hannah shrugged at me; Jez saw but said nothing. “Jez, thank you for lunch. I hope I’ve been useful,” I said, hoping that Morgan would turn again so he could see how much I meant it. “You’re welcome.” He handed me a piece of paper. “Here’s my mobile number. Call me if you find anything.” “Sure.” I pushed it into my bag. “Do you want a lift home? I’ve got a spare helmet,” Hannah asked me. Morgan was still being obstinate, filling his backpack and muttering to Jez. “That’d be great, thanks,” I said. “Okay, I’ll see you later,” Morgan said without looking back as he left the room. His speedy pace down the stairs and slamming of the front door did not go unnoticed. We three stood in silence as we listened to his car revving, and then the sharp roaring engine grew fainter into the distance. “Oh, God, what on earth did I say?” I cried out to both Jez and Hannah. “You weren’t to know,” Jez said. “Morgan’s very touchy about it. I mean, I think he overreacted. What do you think?” Hannah nodded. “Sit down, Rose. We’ll tell you.” I sat back on the bed. Jez leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “All I know is that after Aiden’s parents died, Morgan’s parents refused to look after Aiden. At the funeral of Aiden’s mother, Ben agreed to take full custody of the younger Deverill. I think Aiden did some terrible things to Morgan’s family before that time, and that’s why they refused to look after a twelve-year-old boy. It’s not a question of money. Morgan’s family is rich. He won’t talk about it, and Aiden avoids everyone, anyway. So who knows?” Jez said. “Hannah, you know Morgan well. Has he ever said anything?” I asked. “We’ve never talked about it. Morgan’s open about most things but when Aiden is mentioned, he closes up. Like a book. There’s history there but I’ve never wanted to pry.” “Maybe I could talk to him,” I uttered. “If he’ll ever speak to me again.” “I think he’s working later, at the Brokerswood Timber Mill,” Hannah offered. “He won’t be coming tonight to the Watch.” I nodded in understanding; my thoughts flew back to our encounter this morning. I had felt Morgan’s goodness; it seeped from every pore in his body. So why had he clammed up on me when I asked about Ben Deverill’s family? This mysterious Ben Deverill could be wholly responsible, but was Daisy involved, too? This was something I couldn’t understand. If people thought Ben Deverill was bad, then why had Daisy tolerated him? How was she involved? The puzzle pieces were moving farther apart. We were on the brink of forming some dangerous assumptions based on only a few hard facts. I needed to talk to Morgan, more than anything now. It hurt inside that he could think badly of me. And I selfishly wanted—needed—him on my side.
Hannah checked her watch. The time had flown. I hadn’t realised it was so late, already after 7 p.m. “Do we have to go? This is pretty important,” I said. “We promised Mira we’d be on time. We can’t back out now. I need to drop you off and get ready myself,” Hannah replied. I understood. To not turn up would appear rude but I couldn’t shake the feeling that I should be helping Jez more. “Jez, we’ve got to go. The Watch?” Hannah said. “You go. I want to check into this some more. Maybe I’ll pop by later. Are you going to the usual place?” “Yep, by the barn.” “Okay. Listen,” he said standing up, “thank you both for this. I don’t expect it but you’ve helped me a great deal.” “You’re welcome. Let me know how it goes with the shield. I’ll have a look in Daisy’s library, too, and see if I can find anything. Hopefully I’ll see you later?” I said, smiling. Hannah hugged him tightly. “I’ll call tonight, see how you’re getting on,” she said. “Chin up, we’ll get through this.” “Can I ask one thing?” he said, looking sorrowful again. “Can this be kept secret, just between us? I don’t want the others to know anything yet.” “Sure, no problem,” we both assured him. His need for secrecy was understandable. He was scared. Anyone could see that. “Rose, Morgan will come around. He’ll be fine tomorrow, I promise,” he said. Jez sat down again and turned back to his computer. Hannah and I took our cue to let ourselves out. “What am I going to do? Was I out of line?” “No, you weren’t and I’m going to have a few words of my own later with Morgan McCaw,” Hannah whispered back. “He was out of line, not you.” “Okay.” “By the way,” she continued, “you were amazing up there with Jez. I haven’t really known the right thing to say, to console him, and Morgan and Jez have been friends since they were tiny, but guys are guys. But you? You’ve given Jez a direction, a purpose that we didn’t. He’s a great guy, and he won’t forget this.” “Let’s just hope we find his dad. That’s the most important thing now. By the way, are you two … you know?” “No.” “Really, ’cos it looked to me that you both want to,” I said boldly. “My mum doesn’t approve of him.” “So? Do you do everything your mother tells you to?” “Well, no, but, I don’t know. She’d get really mad at me. I don’t want the hassle.” “So you’d rather be miserable without him. I get it.” “You don’t know my mother.” “True.” I actually didn’t remember much about Hannah’s mother from my holidays other than that she was someone to be afraid of. The only run-in had been when Mira and I had upset Hannah. She was a large, rude, outspoken woman. I didn’t envy Hannah. I even understood her reticence. I put on my helmet, hoisted my bag onto my back, and got onto the pillion. “Just drop me at the gates, okay?” I said, as Hannah mounted the bike and started off. My heart pumped unexpectedly fast as I thought of Morgan. He was mysterious, and a little bit beautiful. This morning we had shared a connection, but now, I felt like I had ruined everything. I hadn’t meant to pry, and I knew that I was right. But it hurt me to know that maybe I had hurt him. I wouldn’t have wanted that in a million years.
Hannah’s story of Morgan’s family intrigued me. Why had they treated Aiden that way, if he was only a boy? They had refused him a home at such a vulnerable age. Morgan was the key; I just had to find a way for him to trust me again.
- CHAPTER SEVEN “ROSE, IS THAT YOU?” DAISY CALLED FROM THE STUDY. “Yes, sorry I’m so late. I didn’t notice the time,” I yelled as I took off my jacket and placed it on the staircase. I walked to the study where she sat in her usual place, writing pen in hand and notes of paper scattered about her desk. “You don’t have to apologise, Rose. We’ve talked about this.” She continued to write. “I know, but I don’t want you to think I’m being impolite.” I sat in the armchair across from her. “It is your home, after all.” “It’s yours, too. I’ve told you that already.” I sighed. “Yeah. I suppose I don’t think of it like that yet.” “We’ll discuss this again in a few weeks’ time then. You’ll have changed your mind, I’m sure,” Daisy said. “So, did you have a nice time today?” “Yep. I was with Morgan, Hannah, and Jez. It’s bad news about his dad. How did it go with your friend Maggie? Is she bearing up?” I said, trying to sound casual. “Maggie’s a tough old girl, a bit like me,” she said, unfazed. “I just hope good news comes soon.” “Did the police come this morning?” “Yes. And Louise, the paramedic. Both left completely satisfied with my report of you. I told Louise that you escaped the fire, thanks to the heroic actions of Aiden. And I told Mark as much as he needed to know. They left their cards on the hall stand in case you want to contact them. I said you had an urgent matter to attend to that couldn’t wait.” “And they were fine with it?” “Completely. There’s nothing to worry about.” I breathed a heavy sigh. “Thanks, Daisy.” I got up. Daisy clearly wanted to complete her task and I didn’t want to intrude further. But I felt I had to ask. “Daisy?” “Yes, dear?” “I’m going to meet Mira and Hannah tonight on the Hill. Would you like to come?” “And join the mob on their quest for enlightenment from otherworldly beings? I don’t think so,” she frowned. “I might be late, that’s all.” “Well, I’ll stay here, have a glass of cocoa and read a book in bed, but you enjoy yourself.” “Okay, thank you! I’ll see you before I go.” I walked around the desk and planted a kiss on her cheek. She patted my shoulder and whispered, “Right you are, angel.” The evening was still early so I answered e-mails from my Manchester friends, telling them all about my arrival and the new people I’d met. I kept it vague but upbeat. They were all missing me, which was nice. Amy was still not answering her phone. I left another voicemail, urging her to get in touch. The time zone to the Middle East would mean it would be late for my parents, so I decided against calling. I sent a short e-mail, though, telling them how I was settling in and about my new friends. Dad would be happy that I was making friends.
Mum had packed a couple of sweaters, luckily. I threw on a cream cable knit and added a belt around my waist and jeans. I didn’t want to feel cold unnecessarily. My tan combat boots were the perfect addition, good for mud—and running. I brushed and pulled my hair back with a new jewelembedded hair band and applied a little mascara. The difference between the last few nights’ view and tonight’s was incomparable. My skin was bright and clear, minus the dark circles. My eyes and hair shone in the bedroom’s soft light. I was tidying my room, filling my laundry basket, when I remembered my dreams again. I had been so caught up in today’s activities and meeting Morgan that I had forgotten about the other visions completely. I sat on my bed and read through the details I’d written, of the noises and the scraping on my first night here. No one had mentioned the din on Friday night, so an earthquake or other phenomenon was out of the question. The part that did alarm me was the grey figure in the mirror. I was certain I hadn’t ever seen that image before. I still had time to waste, so I switched on the computer and checked my purse for necessary money, glad when I saw a few notes. My parents had agreed to transfer money every month in case I had need of it, and I was grateful I wouldn’t need to get a part-time job. Plus, should I require anything extra, I just had to ask them. I didn’t want Daisy to feel like I was a burden, so I wanted to be as self-sufficient as possible. The first name I entered into the search engine was Halíka Dacomé, which pulled down hundreds of pages, mostly folklore and world mythologies. She was a mythological creature from the dawn of time and together with three otherworldly beings sought out civilisations to expand and advance technological sciences. The Mayans, the Egyptians, Orientals, and Africans all benefited from their advanced capabilities resulting in the formation of pyramids, buildings, and more importantly, war craft. Earth dwellers at the time, kings and men alike, lacked the skills or expertise and used this newfound knowledge to build great civilisations and wonders. Rumour had it that the Great Pyramids at Giza, Egypt, had been forged from this advancement. Many theories speculated that one of the pharaohs was, in fact, an otherworldly being due to his misshapen head. After he had died, many of the giant statues and wall paintings he had commissioned during his reign were destroyed to hide his features. It was all a bit far-fetched, possibly the ideals of some science fiction fantasy writer. People didn’t honestly believe all of this, did they? Halíka Dacomé was linked in particular with Wiltshire (as we know it); it was written to be the first location that prehistoric man had dwelled in the area that stretched from across the Salisbury Plain down to Cornwall and the Dorset region. I knew that Wiltshire was old, judging by the burial sites and stone circles, but not that old. I couldn’t find any images, drawings, or artist impressions of what Halíka Dacomé looked like, but the articles didn’t feature any new information for over a hundred years. The last “sighting” was in 1863. I did find an article called “Halíka Dacomé—Myth or Legend?” by Paul Pemberton. Although it registered on the search engine, the page itself was blank. I gave up after that as nothing new appeared in my research. I started to write down the important notes. Was there a connection between Paul Pemberton and Mark Pemberton the police officer? Why was the website blank? I checked on a repetitive phrase: “The Warminster Triangle.” Noted as an imaginary link between key areas of interest in the vicinity, was it related to the triangle of stars on the King Alfred’s shield? Or the three points on the mural from Imber? One article noted that if the local sights of Bratton Castle, Cley Hill, and Scratchbury Hill were joined together, a triangle was formed almost perfectly, while others maintained that the towns of Shaftesbury, Salisbury, and Warminster were the actual triangle. Not one article agreed on the definitive “triangle.”
The hall clock chimed. It was 10 p.m. already. I put pencil and paper in my pocket, filed my notebook in a drawer, grabbed my coat, and headed to the library to say goodbye to Daisy. She was at her desk, still scribbling away. I walked in and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “I’m going out, so I’ll see you in the morning.” “Then I’ll say goodnight, my angel. Enjoy yourself,” she said softly and patted my arm. “And Rose?” “Yes?” “I think we need to talk soon.” She met my gaze for a second, then looked down again at her work, closing the subject. “Um, okay,” I said. I didn’t need three guesses to know what that was about. Daisy wanted to talk about my gift. By the time I got to the end of the lane, I didn’t need a flashlight or torch to guide my way. The lights on top of the hill were enough to light the whole town. I was glad I had on my thick combat boots as the ascent was slippery, the grass wet. At the top of the rise, I stood in awe at the huge numbers of people who had gathered. Mira and Hannah could be anywhere. I’d never find them in this horde. I walked closer and soon saw the central arena for this evening’s event. The cordoned-off area bore a small dais near the centre, with huge spotlights that shone into the sky, making it as bright as day. The arena was already surrounded at least six people deep. Luckily, through the advantage of my height, I could see the faces in the crowd. They were engrossed in the preparations being made by a man wearing a long beige tunic. He looked like a hippie with lengthy grey beard and whitish-grey straggly hair. Navigating the crowd, I moved towards the back end and was grateful when I finally saw Hannah’s face illuminated by the spotlights. “Hey, you made it,” she said. “Where’s Mira?” “She’s not here yet. She’ll be here any moment now.” “There are so many people!” I surveyed the area and tried to count. There must have been at least two hundred milling around. “Do you want to get something to eat?” She nodded towards the hot dog stand at the back. The sweet smell of onions frying made me feel hungry. “Sure, let’s go,” I said. “I’m always amazed that they get all the equipment up here. I pity the person who has to carry the stove,” Hannah remarked. “What about the gas bottle? They weigh a ton just on their own,” I laughed. We paid for our food and then stood at the back munching, away from the crowds. Hannah was chuckling at the variety of clothes, capes, tunics, kaftans, Rastafarians, and camper types mixed in with the ordinary folk of this world. There were people of all ages, races, and from the accents I could hear, countries, too. I somehow couldn’t get my head around why certain people wanted an alien visitation and for that same reason, I had planted everyone in one definitive pot. Weirdoes, wackos, nut jobs, and the crazy sprung to mind. But it could have been a melting pot. These people were so vastly different but they all had one thing in common: they wanted to see an astrophysical phenomenon. They talked of ideas and previous encounters, including reported visitations and abductions. The chatter was loud, and my head was beginning to thump at the roar. “Hi, everyone!” Mira ran towards us laughing. “Isn’t this great?” “I’m not sure ‘great’ is the word I would use,” I said, and threw my napkin in a nearby bin. “Just wait ’til they start the chanting. You won’t be able to stop laughing. They take it so seriously,” she said. “You’ll never believe who I just saw on the way in. Aiden Deverill! I mean, what is he doing here?”
said.
“His grandfather’s on the council. Maybe he’s just checking that they don’t leave any litter,” I
No matter how hard I was trying, I couldn’t call this event anything more than a circus. A whole gathering waiting to be beamed up. I could show them a thing or two about being different, if that’s what they wanted. This was all just a freak show. “Morgan thought he might be able to get away and meet you here,” Hannah said. “It’s his parents’ last night so he’s having a meal out with them after his shift ends.” “Did you speak to him?” I said tentatively. The thrill of hearing his name caught me off guard. “Yeah, I phoned him earlier, and I gave him a telling off, too. I wanted to find out if he was coming to the picnic tomorrow, but he can’t. He’ll be back at Daisy’s later, though.” “Did he mention me at all?” “Um, yeah. He said to tell you that his neck is still sore. He said you’d understand what he meant, and that he’s sorry for walking out on you.” Hannah opened her eyes wider hoping to get an insight, but I didn’t give her any. Hannah wouldn’t pry, anyway. It wasn’t in her nature. “Oh, okay.” She didn’t ask any more. I was glad. But I could have done with some cheering up. My ankles were getting chilly, while the earth under my feet was cold with the night’s damp air. I picked at a tiny corner of my gift, enough not to draw attention to my present company, and sent it down to warm my legs. “There’s Aiden and some of his cronies,” Hannah whispered, pointing a digit towards an old barn to our right. The four boys hovered near the barn and stopped to chat to some of the crowd. I could barely see Aiden. He had chosen to wear a black jacket and trousers. Black seemed to be his favourite colour. My eyes focused and then zoomed in, lightening my view. “Oh, yeah, there he is. Is Jason with him?” I said, curiously. “No, he’s working, so he can be free for the party at Cley Hill. If it’s any consolation, he hates this event, too,” Mira said. Her spirits were dampening and I knew I was the cause. “Okay, guys, let’s get this party started. So how about a bet?” I straightened my shoulders, trying to show a bit more enthusiasm. “We have to make this more interesting.” “Brilliant!” shouted Mira. “What shall we bet on?” “How about the number of people wearing long tunics?” Hannah asked. “They all think they’re druids, you know.” “Um, what about the number of people wearing long white tunics?” Mira added. “Did someone mention a bet?” the familiar deep voice said over my shoulder. I didn’t turn around. I knew who it was. “Aiden, I didn’t think this was your kind of thing,” Mira said, leaning around to address him. “The town’s completely deserted with everyone up here, so we thought we’d see the show,” he laughed. “So, what’s the bet?” “I didn’t mention a bet, did you, Hannah?” I said coyly. “Nope, not me.” He moved around and stood beside me. I could feel his body heat against my arm. It was reassuringly pleasant. “You definitely mentioned it,” he whispered into my ear. I looked at him now fully; his hair was shiny and soft, like a halo in the surrounding lights. His eyes looked as dark as his hair but he was smiling a cheeky grin. “Okay, I did mention a bet. But how about we just put in ten pounds each and pick a number of signs that get held up. The winner with the nearest number wins,” I said. “Well, there must be about a hundred and fifty people here,” he said.
“Close to two hundred, I think.” “I like it, but I think most people are going to have signs, so my number is hundred and fifty,” Mira said, handing me her money. One of Aiden’s friends handed over his notes, too. “Put me down for twenty. I’m Mike, by the way. I can’t see any Warminster people making signs, and there are plenty of us here.” “Hi, Mike. Hold on, I need a pencil,” I pulled out my pencil and paper and wrote down the names and numbers. “Hannah? What do you think?” “I’ll be middle of the road and say a hundred,” Hannah said. “No, make it ninety-nine.” I looked up at her grinning face. “You would say that, just to be difficult. You’re going to help me count them all now.” While I wrote down the details, a small group had surrounded us. Some faces I recognised from earlier at the coffee shop and some were chatting with Aiden, Mira, and Hannah like old friends. They were all pitching in numbers and names. My hand was full of ten-pound notes. Someone was going to be luckier than a lottery winner tonight. I filled one sheet of paper and tried to find another in my pockets. “Here, it’s an old receipt but you can write on this,” Aiden pulled a scrap from the inside of his jacket. “Thanks. I hadn’t realised I’d be a bookie tonight,” I said, my smile grateful smile. “What do you think? Have you thought of a number?” “I’m going to go with ten. I can’t see anyone holding anything yet so unless they know origami, I’m guessing low,” I chuckled. “You’ll be surprised. Put your name down—you might be right.” “What are you going to go with?” “I think, nearly all. Two hundred.” “Really? You’re wasting ten pounds.” “Don’t be so sure.” I wrote it down, anyway. The girls were talking with other people; I felt a little shy. There were no more bets, so I put the money inside my jacket, my hands in the pockets. “You okay?” Aiden said quietly. “Yeah,” I sighed. “I just don’t really know anyone here, that’s all.” “Well, you know me.” “Yes, I do.” “And I know you.” “Marginally.” “And my grandfather and your grandmother are friends.” “Do you actually have a point or shall I let you continue?” I said with a bemused grin. He smiled sweetly. “Well, I saved you from a fire. That must account for something. What I’m trying to say is that I shouldn’t be a stranger to you. And that you’re amongst friends.” “Well, thank you, Aiden, I feel so reassured.” I tried to sound nonchalant. Truth was, I was enjoying myself, and his flirting was amusing. “You know, we have a lot more in common than you think.” “Like what?” “Well, our families have always been friends, through the years.” “That doesn’t mean anything. What else?” “Um, we’re the same height.” “You’re grasping now,” I laughed. He chuckled. “Okay, I can’t think of anything at the moment, but we do share common interests, you might say.” “I’ll take your word for it.”
“Maybe you’ll let me take you out sometime?” I waited for a moment. This was all going way too fast. “I’m not getting involved with anyone at the moment. I’ve just moved here.” “I didn’t mean on a date, silly. I just meant, you know, as friends. I can show you the area. All the nice places, all the local haunts and favourite spots.” “Like where?” “There’s Longleat and the Park, Heavens Gate, Stourhead, Cley Hill, Stonehenge. Do you need me to go on?” “I don’t think I could handle all that travelling on a bike.” “You wouldn’t have to. I have a car.” “Oh!” He caught me by surprise. I’d thought we were the same age. “A nice car, too.” “Oh, a nice car! Is it red?” “How did you know?” “Men always buy a red car first. It’s a well-known fact. Is it really red?” “Yeah. So, what do you think?” Before I could answer, Mira skipped over to us. “They’re starting!” Aiden’s friends had moved from behind us and were now on the other side of Mira, who was on my right. Hannah stood next to me. Aiden was on my left and I was surprised when he didn’t join his friends. “I’m not going anywhere,” he said quietly, close to my ear. I stared at him. How had he known what I was thinking? That was uncanny. The car colour had been a fluke. I gazed at him for a moment. “What?” he whispered. “Nothing!”. The garbled chatter around us quietened down as the man in the beige tunic stood high up on the dais and began by giving thanks to everyone for the tremendous turnout. I wanted to listen a bit harder but I didn’t dare use my gift in such close proximity to these people. Aiden was periodically glancing at me, as well. I had to be on my best behaviour with him around. “We have to hold hands and chant now,” Mira whispered across to us, her voice mischievous. “Do we have to? No one will notice if we don’t.” “Oh come on, Rose, you have to join in,” Hannah grinned at me. “It’s tradition.” “It’s not my tradition,” I retorted. “Whose hand is Mira holding?” I peered around Hannah. “She’s holding mine. She has really rough hands. Ew,” Mike said and laughed. “I do not!” Mira slapped him on his sleeve, took his hand firmly, and grasped Hannah’s in the other. I felt Aiden’s warm fingers tickle my palm before he held my hand securely but gently. It was a nice feeling, and his hands were warm against mine, which were cold in comparison. His touch stopped my breath for an instant. I looked at him as if I were seeing him for the first time. He was looking back at me, too, his face soft and serene. I turned to Hannah trying to find her hand. “Don’t,” he whispered. “What do you mean?” “Just trust me. Don’t hold her hand.”
I sighed, and going with his word grasped Hannah’s sleeve in my fingers. She was chatting to someone on the other side of Mike and didn’t appear to notice. On the night of the fire, I had been almost repelled by Aiden but tonight, it was comforting to have him so close to me, shoulder to shoulder. He may have an ulterior motive in befriending me, and I was cautious, but I wanted him here, holding my hand. My thoughts flickered to Morgan, and my trust in him together with his trust in me. Was I betraying him? I wasn’t doing anything wrong, was I? My mind muddled into confusion. All I knew at this moment was that I was glad Aiden had chosen to stand by me. We didn’t say anything for a while. The ceremony started. The air was redolent with wafting incense from burners that four other men in the arena were waving back and forth into the crowd. But all I could think about was the hand that was holding mine. I was also fighting a small battle inside with all my strength, to keep my gift down. For some unknown reason, I could feel it trying to surge up into my arms. This was new. I usually had strong control over it but it seemed to have its own will. Aiden’s thumb started gently caressing the back of my hand, slow, meaningful strokes. He was looking intently at the view ahead, almost unaware of his actions. I moved quickly and grasped all his digits in my one hand. He turned and half-smiled. “Stop it,” I whispered. “Sorry, I couldn’t help myself.” He manoeuvred his hand back to the original position and it remained still. My gift calmed down and I could breathe properly again. The man in the arena moved up onto the dais and held a huge leather-bound book. He started chanting, singing almost, some phrases or words that I didn’t know. “What’s he saying?” I whispered. “It’s Aramaic. He’ll repeat it in Hebrew and then old Spanish.” “Why does he need to do that?” “Some think that people from another world might understand older languages. They used to try Sumerian but the alphabet isn’t complete in our translations. We have no Rosetta stone in Sumerian, only a rough translation via Greek, which is incorrect.” I gazed at him, amazed. He suddenly looked older somehow, knowledgeable, almost wise. “How do you know so much about this?” “They’ve held these events for years, and I’ve been to a few. After a while you have to ask questions,” he answered.. He let go of my hand and touched a lock of hair that had come loose from my headband, gently tucking it behind my ear. His eyes never left my face. The gesture had been kind. Soft and sensitive. “You’re beautiful, Rose,” he whispered and brushed his free fingers against my cheek, then reached to hold my hand again. The ground felt like it was spinning. I was reeling from his words so I looked away. He thought I was beautiful. Why had he even noticed me? I was nothing to him. Just a stupid girl who got too close to a fire. But he had singled me out from everyone else here. I felt drawn to him in an indescribable way. It wasn’t like this morning with Morgan. Morgan was gorgeous and I felt physically drawn to him like no one I had ever known. Like a love I’d never had. But with Aiden, I felt like I belonged. Like we were part of something greater. We shared a bond that no one else could ever hope to understand. As if a thread joined us both and nothing could cut it. It wasn’t physical; it was much more. I was so confused now. This new sensation was unexpected. I had to be cautious, and I tried to concentrate on what was happening. From the dais, the man was now chanting in a newer language, and I heard two words I recognised. A chill shivered down my spine.
“Hago un llamado a ustedes, grandes seres poderosos del cielo. Saca de su elegido, Halíka Dacomé. Estamos a su merced, y su ídolo en su grandeza.” “What does that mean? Do you know?” I whispered. Aiden answered slowly in hushed tones. He didn’t take his eyes away, fixed on mine as he spoke. “It means: I call upon you, great powerful beings of the sky. Bring forth your chosen one, Halíka Dacomé. We are at your mercy, and will idolise her in her greatness.” I noticed others listening to his translation, nodding in agreement. I had no idea whether this was at his translation skills or in agreement with the meaning of the words, whatever they meant. “Halíka Dacomé?” Aiden looked at me intently. “Yes. I’ll tell you about her later.” I nodded and looked on into the arena. The man in the centre was repeating the words again. Soon some of the crowd followed in his stead. The chanting began and was growing louder as more people joined in. I could hear Mira’s voice above Mike and Hannah. A painful sharp scratch bothered the inside of my temple and I rubbed it to try to draw away the pain. My stomach was reacting oddly, too. This must be what it’s like to feel sick. It rolled over and over inside, and I felt a chill on my face. I swayed slightly and it had nothing to do with Aiden’s warm hand still clinging to mine. It probably had more to do with too much incense in the air. The chanting was so loud now, getting louder, soon reaching its crescendo as the words echoed up into the sky above us. I had to get away, just for a minute. Away from the crowd, and the thickness of the atmosphere, away from the noise. I stepped back, quickly releasing Aiden’s hand, and ran. I reached the other side of the barn in no time, opened the door, and got inside, closing it behind me. In the darkness, I sought and found a small rusty bolt and pushed it up into the doorframe with all my strength. I sat down on my heels and rocked slowly to calm down, burying my head in my arms. My head pierced with pain, pushing me over onto the floor. I clawed through my hair with my fingers trying to find some spot to get a respite from the intense agony. Finally, I ripped off my hair band, hoping for relief. I lay for what seemed an age, though it must only have been minutes. I couldn’t hear anything. The chanting had quietened down. My head calmed and my stomach stopped churning, allowing me to stand again. It was over. I breathed in deep breaths, exhaling misty air into the dank, musky barn. I looked down at my hands, which were pins and needles. Did I see something? It looked like a faint glow, and it was getting brighter. I held my hands up before my eyes, turning them each way as they shone bright and radiant. Each finger, each thumb, each palm. The flare of white light filled the barn until suddenly the spark went out. It was dark again. What the heck was going on? I inhaled a deep breath, picked up my hair band from the floor, and unbolted the door, stepping out into the cold night air. “Are you okay?” He was leaning against the barn side.
“You don’t miss anything, do you?” “Well, someone has to take care of you.” His words annoyed me. I didn’t need a babysitter. “I can take care of myself, thank you very much.” “I know. But I wouldn’t be doing my job if I just let you run off like that.” “Your job?” “Well, yeah. If someone is feeling ill …” “I wasn’t feeling ill, I just needed some air.” “You needed air in a damp, soggy hundred-year-old barn?” He reached over and pulled a stalk of straw from my hair, questioning me with a look. He turned me round and brushed caked mud from my jacket. “Looks like you had a brawl in there.” “Okay, I got a headache. The darkness helps.” “Headaches. That’s a new one,” he said, almost to himself, still checking me over. “You’re clean now.” “Yeah, a headache. Is that a crime?” “Nope. Here, drink this. You’ll feel better. Just not too fast. You don’t want a sugar rush.” He handed me a can of fizzy drink that had been at his feet. For this I was touched; he had been thoughtful. “Thank you,” I said with sincerity, and drank slowly, breathing between gulps. “You’re welcome. What’s this?” He pulled my hair band from my grasp. “It fell out.” “It’s pretty. Unusual. Looks expensive. What’s it made from?” he said, twisting and turning it in the light. “I don’t know.” I continued drinking, but hoped my one-word answers would stop his questions. “Here, let me,” and with that, he pushed the headband over my ears and secured my hair back into place. “As good as new. No one will ever guess.” “Thank you.” He smiled, pleased. “Come, it’s almost sign time. The ceremony’s ending.” He felt for my hand and gently pulled me through the crowd. I was still wondering at his selfassurance with me. His air was confident, as if he knew I wouldn’t object. Was I giving that impression?
- CHAPTER EIGHT -
“THERE YOU ARE. I WAS GETTING WORRIED!” Mira skipped over and threw her arms around me. I laughed at her. “I’m back. No need to worry.” I leaned into her hug and released her. Aiden was still holding my other hand. His grip told me he wasn’t letting go at any cost. Hannah joined us. “Are you ready? I’m here for my punishment,” she said and rubbed my arm in comfort. “Yes, let’s go!” I said, pulling away from Aiden’s reluctant hand. Hannah and I walked towards the central area. The tunic man was ordering that the lights be switched off, and the finale was over. “What’s going on with Aiden?” Hannah asked quietly. “I have no idea, but he’s sticking to me like glue.”. “Be careful with him. He can charm, but he can hurt people, too,” she warned, putting a reassuring hand on my arm again. “What do you mean?” “He hasn’t a great reputation with girls. Let’s just say he won’t be handing out the tissues if it all goes wrong. He’ll have moved on to the next conquest.” “Thanks, I’ll keep it in mind.” “Do that. I know he saved you and everything, but don’t let him hurt you, Rose. You can do better than him, anyway.” “You really don’t like him, do you?” I asked. She shook her head in reply. Hannah’s wise advice hovered in my thoughts. She looked back at me but I kept my glances elsewhere. I was questioning myself already; her warning was like a sharp barb under my skin. Around us, candles were lit and lighters were sparked and held high. All eyes were now on the dark starry skies that twinkled above us. Coats were buttoned up and scarves were tightened as the temperature sank. For an August night, it was cold. My breath was a cloudy mist dissipating into the chilly air. Hannah and I walked around the central area, waiting. At first, there was nothing. I was disappointed; no one had picked a zero for the number of signs. We waited. The shadows were drawing in. A few cried out as a shooting star flickered across the darkness. Some must have seen it as a precursor and slowly people shuffled and reached to the ground. They had been standing on their signs the whole time. No wonder I hadn’t seen anything. One by one, small and tall, round and square, written notices were lifted, messages to the kings of the stars. “Here we go,” Hannah whispered. “I’ll start on the right, you go left, and we’ll meet in the middle.” I was trying to make out the words rather than count. “I’m here, Mother Goddess,” one said. “A new dawn begins now,” said another. “Take me with you,” was another. I laughed inwardly at this one; it reminded me of Mira for some reason. “A new world—take ours!” “Halíka Dacomé, I’m your son.” Again I sniggered. That person must be seriously deluded. I started to count from the left and had already reached seventy-seven by the time I got to the centre. “How many?” Hannah puffed, out of breath. I told her.
“I got seventy-three.” I checked my papers and scanned the totals quoted by everyone. “Oh no! Everyone’s going to think it’s a fix,” I exclaimed. “Why? Who got it right?” “Mira did. She said a hundred and fifty exactly.” “Let’s go and tell her,” Hannah laughed, guiding us back to our friends. We pushed our way back to the small group. Eager and excited faces stared at me. I held the papers in my hands. “Okay, here’s the moment of truth,” I said loudly. “The winner is Mira with a hundred and fifty exactly!” Sighs of “Oh, well, never mind,” and loud groans were almost drowned out by the sudden scream of delight from Mira as she jumped up and down on the spot, clapping her hands. “Yes! How much did I win?” I counted out the notes. “Here’s two hundred and ten pounds, you lucky girl!” I laughed, handing over her winnings. She shoved them into her jacket pocket and carefully zipped it shut. “This has been brilliant! See, I told you it would be fun.” There was no calming her happiness now. She was like a bouncing tiger, and we all cheered her on. “So, where are we going now?” Hannah asked. “Well, I don’t know about you guys but I need my bed. Long day.”. “That’s cool. I’ll pick you up in the morning for the picnic. Okay?” “Sure. Definitely.” I nodded. I’d forgotten about the picnic. “Bye, Rose. I’ll see you at the … you know what,” Mira hugged me again, whispering the last part. Aiden was hovering nearby. I guessed that Mira didn’t want our plans discussed openly. There were too many prying ears. “Okay, see you then.” “Remember what I said, Rose,” Hannah added, looking in Aiden’s direction. I nodded in acknowledgement of her warning and smiled faintly as she dragged an exuberant Mira away down the hill towards the car park. I waved goodbye to my friends, then headed in the opposite direction towards home. “Rose, wait up,” Aiden called, running after me. “Aiden, I’ll see you around,” I said coolly, and continued walking. “Wait. You’re going to miss the best part. Don’t you want to hear the stories?” “What stories?” “About Halíka Dacomé, the earlier alien encounters, flashing lights over the town. I thought you might find it interesting, as you’re new here. It is our legacy, after all.” “Our legacy?” “Yeah, Warminster’s legacy. If you don’t know the stories, you won’t be one of us.” There was nothing like reverse psychology to make me feel even more out of place. He had a point. I should stay and get to know the myths surrounding the town. “You’ll stay, too? You won’t leave me here?” “Of course I won’t. Come, there are some people I want you to meet,” he held out his hand to me. After a moment, I took it. We walked back to the site area in silence. The cordoned arena had been dismantled, opening up the wide, grassy clearing. It was hard to believe that we were still on top of a hill. People were sitting on deck chairs, in groups mainly, surrounding small fires. Some were melting marshmallows and others were peering into telescopes, appreciating the bright starlight. But most were still staring in awed silence at the twinkling sky above, holding their signs high. “Hey, Aiden, over here!” a voice called out.
“Hi, Barry, just the person.” We walked towards the small cluster. All were seated. Aiden shook hands with Barry and then introduced me. “How did you like the evening, Rose?” “Um, interesting, actually.” I looked at Aiden and laughed. “I thought you might be able to help Rose with some of the myths of this town,” Aiden said. “Rose, that’s Agnes, Daisy’s friend, Bert from the Down End farm, the one near your house. Doug owns the off-license in town and Reg runs the local paper.” I said hi to them all, and they all smiled back, welcoming me. “Well, you’ve come to the right person,” Maggie said. “Ain’t no one knows the stories as Barry does, ain’t that right?” “Aye.” “Tis right.” “Sit down, Rose. What would you like to know?” Someone brought two more chairs and made room for us. The fire crackled in the centre, launching yellow and red light onto the faces around me. “Why is Warminster linked with aliens?” I asked. “Well, some say that it’s ’cos we’re out in the open here. Nothin’ surrounds the town, and the area is filled with mystical energy. Some folk say that the mounds like Cley Hill and Silbury Hill are in fact beacons to extraterrestrials who want to land on the area. Truth be told, no one really knows why they come, but there’s plenty who’ve seen ’em.” “Have you seen one?” I asked. “As a matter of fact, I ’ave. It were a cold night, an’ I was walking my dog, Bessie. She loves to run on this ’ill, lots of rabbits and some such, you know. Anyways, Bessie were missing, I called and called but she never returned. I walked down the hill and ’eard something behind me. I looked back and there it was.” “What? What did you see?” I said, my eyes wide in anticipation. “A green man, tall as me, eyes large as saucers.” “Wow, what did you do?” “Well, me thinks I would run, but I couldn’t move. I just stood and he walked right past me, as if I weren’t even there. ’Course I looked round after but he’d gone, disappeared.” “And then?” “Well, Bessie came back, scared out of ’er wits at summat. She’s ne’rn gone near this hill since. Prefers the back ’ills. I tried to bring ’er back but she jus’ digs ’er ’eels in, won’t move. Daft dog.” “And you think it was an alien?” “I ’ave never ever seen one since, and I’ve looked, but I swears on my soul, it were an alien man. I can still see him, clear as day in my ’ead.” “Were you scared?” “Funnily enough, I weren’t. I was more worried about Bessie to really take it in.” “What about flashing lights? Lots of people see things in the sky?” “Well, I have a different theory about them flashin’ lights; I don’t think they’re no alien spacecraft. I think that’s Halíka Dacomé.” He spoke the name so reverently, I was shocked. I needed to know more. I glanced at Aiden who was silent, his hands in his lap, staring into the fire. “I keep hearing that name, Halíka Dacomé. They said it tonight in the summoning.” “Aye, you may ’ave dun.” “She be a myth, a legend, from these parts,” Maggie said. “Monster more like. She’s a killer,” Doug added.
“She’s not either, and you know well enough what she’s done for us in the past,” Barry said. The others were silenced. “Halíka Dacomé’s real?” I said, surprised. “Aye, as real as you an’ me.” “So, where does she live? Why isn’t she here?” I asked, even more intrigued. “No one knows where she is. She hasn’t been seen for a long time now. Rumours are that she’s gone and left us, to go somewhere east.” “What? Like London?” “No, Rose. Like China, Japan, the old Orient.” “I don’t understand.” “Well, I’ll start at the beginning. Some say at the dawn of time, she fell from the sky. Others say that she reincarnates into another living being. ’Course no one knows for sure.” “At least, none that’s telling,” Reg piped in, and winked at me. He was an odd man. “Aye, she landed on this earth for whatever reason and can’t get home, or don’t want to. Either way, she’s been around these parts for centuries.” “So why do they call for her return?” “She’s got healing powers, and there’s folk around here who need healing. Farmers and such like, mostly. She’s a defender of many, a mercenary for few, and bad folk see the evil side of her. It’s said that during the Second World War, she helped the farmers yield maximum harvests for the war effort, kept the folk fed when rationin’ was brought in. Ain’t nothing’ evil ’bout that.” “Why do you think she’s gone away?” “Dunno, couldn’t say. She’s not been seen for many a year. Folks say she’s gone home, deserted us, or gone east. Some rumours claim she has a same such friend in Japan, one like her, but who knows. But there’s bad folk in town now. They spread fear into people’s minds. But Halíka Dacomé saved my mother once and we don’t forget it.” “What happened?” “Years ago, when my family lived at Imber, where your grandmother comes from, there used to be a cart regularly visit town. One night, it was late. The wind took over the empty cart and pinned my mother for near on six hours. There were no lights and the way was long. Halíka Dacomé lifted the cart as if it were a feather. My dear Ma’s legs were so broken, they were like matchsticks, but Halíka Dacomé healed them with her magic power.” “Was your mother all right? Did she walk again?” “Walked, danced, you name it. She were better than before the accident. She grew old quickly, though, but woe betide anyone who had bad words for Halíka Dacomé.” “Did your mother ever see her again?” “Nope, never. My ma’d liked to have thanked her proper like but she never saw her, just had her mark.” “Her mark?” “Those who ’ave dealin’s with Halíka Dacomé are left with a mark, a sign of her presence, like.” “What does it look like?” “Like nothin’ I’ve seen before, A few lines over one another. An ‘L,’ then reversed. Like a … a … what’s them Egyptians use?” “A hieroglyph,” Aiden said. I was so engrossed in the story I hadn’t paid mind to Aiden. He sat calmly with his fingers entwined together in his lap, staring into the fire. His face was powerful but angelic at the same time. He seemed at peace. Then, for the first time, I noticed his eyes gleaming in the fiery flames. I shrank back into my chair, dumbfounded.
Aiden’s eyes were sapphire blue with exactly the same sparkle and clarity as my own. I was so taken aback, I stopped breathing. My pulse quickened. I had never seen eyes so brightly coloured. I was so lost in my observation, I hadn’t realised that Barry had continued the story. “That’s it, one of them. An ’ieroglyph. My mother has it on her forearm, inside of ’er elbow. She tried to scrub it off but it stuck for good.” “Wow,” I uttered and breathed again. “There’s some who say they’ve seen ’er with a black dog. You look out next time you be drivin’. Black Dog Farm, Black Dog Inn. It’s all ’cos ’ov ’er.” “She has a dog?” “Used to. Some used to see her regular, like in Imber with a dog. None seen it since, mind. Maybe it died.” We were all silent for a moment, staring into the warm flames. The mood lost some of its buoyancy when others starting speaking. “Halíka Dacomé is just an ol’ wives’ tale, told to scare children,” Reg said. “She steals yer will, makes it her own, then yer dun for,” Doug added. “No, she’s real, she’s absolutely real, and no mistake,” Barry confirmed. “Barry? Why do they always call her Halíka Dacomé? Why not just Halíka? It’s such a mouthful!” Barry inclined his head back and stared up into the night sky. “’Tis considered a great discourtesy to call her anything else other than ’er full name. ’Er name is her status, ’tis who she is. She was of noble blood ’parently, so no one dared call her anything else.” Aiden, who had been silent throughout, suddenly sprang up in alarm, as if hearing someone calling his name. It made some in the group jump. “I’ll be back in a minute,” he said and ran, dodging around the small congregated groups until he was out of sight. I leaned back into the chair, feeling comfortable and warm. “So, anything else you’d like to know about our weird Warminster, Rose?” Barry asked. “Yeah, there is something. Does an emblem of three stars, like a triangle shape, mean anything to you?” I asked with extreme trepidation. “With a black background?” he replied. I shook my head. “I’m not sure.” “Well, the only emblem I’ve ever seen like that was the old priory emblem. I think I saw it in the Longleat library, they still have a flag on the wall to show where the old building stood,” he said. “Is that the priory ruin that Longleat was built on?” “That’s the one. The Monks were members of the Black Canons of the Order of St. Augustine. They devoted their lives to God, became chaste, weren’t allowed to own possessions or land, but were allowed to offer pastoral advice and care in the local communities.” “What happened to them?” “In the 15th century another band of monks took over the priory, and the Order was dissolved. They’d run out of money, and couldn’t continue as a going concern. Some say they turned to black magic.” I was so engrossed in Barry’s story that I briefly forgot the others at our fire. They were all listening with eagerness, nodding in confirmation. “What about the emblem? How is that linked?” “They wore velvet cloaks, with a triangle on the back stitched in gold. The three points was a motif of their most treasured possession donated to them from an ancient king. They weren’t allowed to sell it but had to keep it safe for when the time came.”
“What was the ‘possession’?” “No one knows. An’ if you ask me, the time came and went for them poor monks. ’Parently some went to Longbridge Deverill, others to Hinton Charterhouse near Bath. The priory was passed to the Crown, who bought it for next to nothin’ and then the family of the present owners of Longleat bought it from the Crown. ’Tis a long and complicated history but, needless to say, ther’re no monks round here any more.” Doug spoke then. “My mother used to tell tales of the old monks. She used to say if you went to Ragland Wood at night, you’d better watch out ’cos the Black Monks would turn your body inside out.” “My old ma, too,” Agnes said. “They’d practise black magic in those woods, behind the priory where no one’d see ’em. Used to torture animals, goats and such like. ’Tis rumoured the woods are still haunted.” I breathed in sharply. “Really, even now? With all the tourists around the place?” “Even now, young Rose,” Doug answered, sternness in his voice, almost like a warning. “Don’t you go there, ’tisn’t safe.” “I won’t, don’t worry. Things like that creep me out.”. Aiden touched my shoulder, telling me it was time to leave. I hadn’t even noticed he’d returned. “We’ve got to go. Thank you, Barry. I’ll pop by and see you soon,” he said respectfully, and shook hands with Barry again as I said my goodbyes to the others. “Everything okay?” I asked. “Yeah,” he said. “Just something came up. Nothing to worry about.” We walked in silence to the edge of the hill. This time, he didn’t try to hold my hand and I was glad. Something had upset him in the time he’d been away from our fire. His head was down, as if he was contemplating something. I wondered why he was even walking me to the hill edge. In the distance, Daisy’s house was lit up like a beacon. Apart from the house, it was like looking into a black void, the country scene completely diminished. It was such a contrast to the other side of the hill, which had the town at its basin, the lights bright, emblazoning the sky. We reached the edge and I stood for a moment, waiting for him to acknowledge the end of our walk. “Can I see you tomorrow?” he whispered softly. I stopped, and looked at him. “I’m busy, sorry.” “Okay, the day after, then.” “Um, why so urgent? I’m here all summer!” I held my hands out. “Because I like you and I’d love to show you around the area, and get to know you better,” he reached a hand forward and touched the side of my face, fingers softly caressing my cheek. I hesitated under his touch, and then turned my head away. I wasn’t ready for this, for him. He smiled and dropped his hand to his side, unaffected by my response. Remember the eyes. Remember Hannah’s warning. The thoughts were filling my head, making me confused. “Sure, if that’s what you want,” I said. “It is. Nothing would give me more pleasure.” His eyes blazed in the low light as he smiled back. “Okay, I promise. Just give me a few days and then we’ll go out. Just as friends, though, okay?” “Just as friends, promise.” He reached down for my hand and held it up. “Your hands are cold again,” he whispered and stroked my knuckles. His touch made me shiver. “It’s a cold night.” With gentle, soft lips, he kissed my hand, just a hint of pressure, before releasing it slowly. “Bye, Rose. Sleep well.” “Bye,” I whispered back.
I walked down the hill quickly, careful to avoid the small hillocks of wild grass. My hand, where his lips had touched, tingled with warmth. The tingle was slowly spreading over my body. I shuddered in exaltation. Halfway down, I turned quickly. He still stood, watching my departure, and then turned. I watched his silhouette as it disappeared into the hill lights. I started to run, continuing my descent, but I had to stop to tie up my bootlace, which had wound its way undone. As I was kneeling, I sensed a movement. A presence coming closer to me. At first, I thought that it must be Aiden returning, but it didn’t “feel” like him; the body vibration was different. I searched the darkness for a place to hide, spying a large juniper bush. I crawled, staying low until I was behind it. A silhouette emerged slowly from the side of the hill, not as tall as Aiden, and slighter in frame. His walk was slow and stealthy, as though he were walking with bended knees. Closer and closer, he stole forward not five metres away. I used my eyesight to see closer but the high hill lights were blurring my vision. As if he could sense me, he walked towards me, his low walk treading every step with care. He stopped to listen and I held my breath. I didn’t know what to do. Should I jump out or stay where I crouched? My choice was taken away from me as he stepped forward almost into my hiding place. His boot just touched my foot. As he looked down, I lunged, grabbed his arm, and kicked his legs to the side. His balance was lost and he lay on the ground as I pinned him down with both arms. “Who are you?” I shouted. “Rose? Is that you?” a familiar voice whispered. I thought for a second to where I had heard his voice, and soon remembered. The Irish accent gave him away. “Pritchard? What are you doing?” I whispered back. “I’ve been tracking you. Can you let me go, please?” he whispered in a humoured tone. “Um, yeah, sorry.” I let go of his arms and helped him to his feet. Then I noticed his uniform. It wasn’t the uniform of the fire brigade where I had last spoken to him. It was the green and khaki uniform of the army. “Why are you wearing that?” I gestured to his clothes. “And why are you tracking me?” “Wait,” he stopped and listened. I heard the quiet crackle of twigs, too. “Someone else is here,” I whispered and he nodded. “Quick, I have to get you home,” he said and grabbed my arm to meet his slow run back to the house. I looked behind but couldn’t make out anything untoward. As we ran, Pritchard spoke slowly into a radio he had pulled from his pocket. “This is 22495123, repeat, this is 22495123. I am in the open, confirm,” he pressed a button and waited for a reply. “Copy 22495123, is the subject safe?” the crackly radio returned. “Subject is safe. We have a tail. Confirm.” “Copy that. We will intercept.” We reached the end of the field and I turned to see our tail. A single shadow was approaching at significant speed. Even if we ran our fastest, it would still get to us before we reached Daisy’s house. Pritchard saw it, too, and stopped. He motioned for me to get back into the hedge. He followed suit and crouched, next to me. “The tail is too quick, need interception, ASAP!” he ordered. “Pritchard, have you a gun?” I asked. “Yes, but we’ve been ordered not to fire our weapons when you’re in our vicinity,” he said. I looked back across the dark ground. The tail sat in some long grass, waiting. “What’s it doing?” I whispered.
“I don’t know.” “I have another tactic,” I suggested. “How about I crawl around the field to the side of him and get closer, to see who he is?” “No, you’re staying right here with me,” he ordered firmly. I sat waiting. He turned to his side and retrieved a small pair of binoculars from a pouch, and held them up to see our stalker. It was now or never. “Sorry, Pritchard. I don’t take orders from the army,” I whispered and ran on low knees away from him to the right. I kept my eyes on the black shadow in the centre of the field. It stayed put, waiting for us to move. I could hear Pritchard whispering curses at me but I didn’t answer him or stop. The grass was longer and shielded my body from sight, so I picked up the pace and was soon at the side of my prey, about a hundred metres away. I moved closer in, quietly, and then with my whole body on the ground, I crawled forward, closer, in silence. Thirty metres away, then twenty metres. I covered the ground swiftly and stopped ten metres from the black shadow. Even from this distance, I could smell something bad, putrid and off. Either there was a cowpat close by or the shadow really needed a shower. The shadow watched Pritchard, without movement, without sound. I leaned up onto my arms to get a better look. The shadow was a man dressed in black. Even from my vantage point, I could see he was dirty. He flicked his head around oddly, as if every owl hoot or rodent squeak was painful to his ears. His hands continually flapped up and down to his head to shield the noises. So this was why he hadn’t pursued us any further. He couldn’t bare the nighttime noise. I had found his weakness, and I stood up, walked towards him, and shouted. “Hey, you! Who are you? Why are you following me? Are you deaf? Is something wrong with your hearing?” I continued shouting as I moved gradually towards him. He lay on his back and cowered as I grew closer. The more I ranted, the more he cringed and trembled. I could hear him whimper as he held his ears again. He hid his face down into the earth, his body quivering as he heard my voice. “Rose Frost. Step away. Now.” The order came from a soldier who was flanked on either side by at least ten others. All had rifles across their chests with torches attached. They walked slowly towards us. “Step away, now,” he ordered again. “It’s okay. He’s not dangerous,” I shouted back. The man on the floor was weeping and snivelling into the ground. He was clearly terrified at the approaching armed men. Once they were nearer, the soldiers walked around and encircled the man and me completely. Pritchard was amongst them. “Rose, this is Captain Robinson. He’s in charge,” Pritchard said, moving aside to let the captain closer. “You shouldn’t have moved in like that, Rose. You should have left it to us,” the captain said. “And what would you have done? Shot him?” I questioned and motioned towards their rifles. “Can’t you see he’s terrified?” I knelt down beside the man. His repugnant smell was overpowering, and in the torch light, I could see him a little more clearly. “Can someone shine a torch on him, please?” I asked. I whispered gently to the cowering man. “It’s okay. I won’t harm you.” He backed away using his feet, not letting me closer. Then I glimpsed his face as one solitary torch picked out his features. I was speechless and unable to move at the horror that I saw.
The purple blistered and burned skin across one side of his face had healed, leaving a septic layer on the surface, green and fetid. His eye, caught in the disfigurement, was pulled down to one side, the iris now completely white. He turned his head as an owl hoot echoed in the night air. His hands flashed to his ears and I saw that they had faired no better. The right hand was missing three fingers, cruelly removed, leaving a stump of bone protruding. But the worst part was his ears. They had gone completely: no lobe, no shell, callously severed all the way to the skull. No wonder he was frightened of sounds with no ear to lessen the noise. “My God, who would do such a thing?” one soldier whispered, but no one dared speak again as the man sat, his knees drawn to his chest, head in what was left of his hands. “Sir, what is your name?” I asked.. He looked at me, as if not understanding the question. I put my crossed hands on my chest. “I’m Rose Frost. What is your name?” I pointed at him to show it was his turn. “H-h-h-henry. H-henry C-cole,” he uttered, stammering as though speech was troublesome. I gaped in surprise. “Old Mad Cole?” “Th-that’s what they u-used to c-call me?” he asked, in recognition. “Yes! I remember from when I used to stay with my grandmother.” “Y-you’re D-daisy’s granddaughter?” he said, attempting a smile. “Yes.”. “I h-had to f-find her. I have to let h-her know.” He became agitated then, as though he couldn’t get to his feet, his body only allowing him to get to his knees. “Can you walk?” I asked. “N-no! They broke my knees! Only m-move on fours.” He sat again and began to weep with such might, I felt tears welling in my own eyes. “Henry? How did you run so fast with broken kneecaps?” “J-just can. H-had to l-learn. S-scampering on fours is easier then twos,” he stuttered, putting his arms across his face to hide the torchlight. I stood up and faced the captain. “We need to get him to Daisy’s, right now,” I ordered. “He needs a hospital,” a soldier commented. I held up a hand. “No. This man has been missing for six months. Who knows what he’s been through, but he’s been tortured, we can all see that. He needs to see Daisy.” The captain pondered my request. “Okay, we’ll get him to the house. Collins, Archer, you two can carry him but be gentle, poor sod.” The two soldiers lifted the man until he stood, then carefully placed him over Archer’s shoulder. The man might have been in pain but at least he didn’t have to walk. I could hear Collins whispering soft words to Henry as they walked towards Daisy’s. The captain pulled out his radio and spoke. “This is the XO. We have two soldiers on their way to the Frost house. They have one casualty, repeat, one casualty. It is NOT Rose, confirm.” “Copy that, XO. We’ll inform HD. A medic is on the way. Out.” The radio crackled and went silent. “Right, Rose, let’s get you back home. I want single file, either side, one at the rear and one ahead. Let’s move it.” Before I could blink, I was surrounded by the soldiers as we began walking the short way back to Daisy’s.
“Pritchard, can I talk to you?” I sought him out and he joined my side. “What is it?” he whispered. He kept an eye on the captain up ahead. I kept my voice low, hoping the other soldiers wouldn’t hear. “Why were you tracking me?” “I’m following orders, miss. You’re to be followed whenever you’re out of the grounds of the house.” I was dumbfounded. The puzzle pieces had begun to get closer, but at my expense. Daisy had said that it was safe here, that I didn’t need to worry about the town or my own safety. I hadn’t realised that she would go so far as to involve the army. “Daisy’s orders. Since you arrived, we’ve been tracking you, making sure you’re safe,” he said bluntly. “Is it just you?” “No, it’s all of us here. You have round-the-clock security. And at the house, too. No one goes in or out without permission.” “And you report back to Daisy about what I do, where I go?” I said, irritated. “No, that’s not our objective. Our objective is to avoid any threat on your life. The rest we’re not interested in. Although your relationship with the Deverill boy is raising a few eyebrows,” he said with honesty, and chuckled. I cursed loudly under my breath. A few soldiers sniggered. “I think I need to talk to Daisy. I’m so mad at her,” I said through my teeth. “Sorry, Rose, but you weren’t to know. Top secret and all that.” Pritchard sounded apologetic.. We walked the rest of the way in silence at an even pace. At the entrance, the gates were open and I walked through with the captain. The men stopped at the gates; their duty was done, I presumed. I stopped for a moment and stared at them. So, this was my security detail. Wherever I went, they wouldn’t be far behind. I was angry at Daisy. She should have told me. But these men were here to protect me from whoever’s chasing my dad. I owed them more than my anger. “Thank you,” I said at them. “To all of you.” A couple of them lifted hands in acknowledgement. “See you around, Rose Frost,” Pritchard shouted as the gates began to close. Soon they were gone. I skipped across the gravel and caught up with Captain Robinson. “I think, Rose, that you’d better leave your fight with Daisy until the morning. She’ll want to tend to her friend tonight. The army doctor is here already and judging by Mr. Cole’s injuries, he’ll be a while. Maybe it’s best.” I nodded at the captain, unable to speak, anyway, in light of all the deception around me. The green army Jeep on the driveway had a red cross on the door, and two other soldiers were already carrying medical equipment in through the hallway. The captain entered the house and walked directly to the study, whereas I walked directly upstairs to my room, making more noise than I normally would. I slammed my door and fell on the bed, staring out into the darkness. There was nothing to see but at least I could lose myself in my thoughts without distraction. What a night it had turned out to be. Aiden Deverill was all I could think about initially. His voice was in my head; I remembered all of his words. His hand on mine, how safe it felt when he held it, his last sweet kiss on my fingers. And his eyes. Most of all, his eyes. The truth was that I had never felt like this, this conflicted before. My emotions were teetering on the edge of a rocky plateau, ready to fall either way. This morning I had felt such an instant draw to Morgan, and now this. I felt something for Aiden. I was drawn to him, but it wasn’t a schoolgirl crush or even a fancying him type of feeling. It was so much more, like we belonged together. Barry’s story about the monks chilled me more than I let on. Something there wasn’t right and I wondered whether I should mention his story tomorrow when I saw Hannah and Jez.
Then Old Mad Cole and his pathetic form. I felt such sorrow for him now, the poor wretch. What must he have endured in those missing months? I sat for a while under the duvet and watched the night continue outside my window, my arms wrapped tight around my knees. My curtains were wide open but the room was still pitch black. It was the same outdoors. Not a light or star in the sky, except for the lights on in the cottage. Morgan was down there in the darkness. Within my reach. Morgan. For the first time ever, I closed my curtains and shut out the world. Sleep finally pulled me down into the dark abyss. Halíka Dacomé I was surrounded by a hundred cloaked men. I couldn’t see their faces as they circled me, getting closer. The circle was decreasing, me at its centre. My back was against the wall of the tower. I couldn’t move any farther; the wet bricks jarred against my shoulder. But still they drew nearer and I had no escape. I screamed as the fire erupted around the brick turreted building. I was trapped. A fire in a perfect circle between the men and me. The only thing separating us. They halted at the fire’s edge. Roars and shouts filled my ears. “Kill her!” “Kill her!” I cried out again as a solitary shrouded figure drew closer through the mass. They moved aside for him to pass. The figure brandished a lighted torch, burning brightly, etching the smoky sky. The flames licked the air and grew higher as the swell of the roars increased. They roared in anticipation, their maddened chants filling the vastness, their anger erupting into a frenzy. “KILL HER!” The shrouded man walked through the fire towards me, unburned and untouched by the scorching heat of the flames. His torch pointed towards my frightened body. He stopped as he neared, only a few steps away. “Halíka Dacomé, you must die.” I screamed as he lifted his head and I could see his face clearly in the fiery doom. It was Aiden. I jumped up in terror. Tears trickled down my face as I screamed in horror, again and again. My body was burning hot against the cold air. I breathed as I cried, shrieking into the empty room. It had only been a dream, a terrible dream. But I could still hear it. I could still feel everything: the terror as my body pressed against the cold hard brick trapping my escape, the evil shouts of the cloaked man calling for my death. And I could still see his face, angry and twisted. Full of hatred towards me. Goosebumps prickled my skin and the hairs on my neck rose up in dread. I pulled at my head, trying to rid my memory of the images. Aiden. What are you? What will you do to me? My body shuddered as I sobbed. I was so afraid. “Rose! Are you all right?” Morgan’s distressed but gentle voice entered the room. I didn’t answer. I couldn’t speak. He encircled me with his arms and pulled me against his chest. “It’s okay. It’s over now,” he soothed, stroking and kissing my hair. I wrapped my arms around him, drawing him closer, and cried into his chest. He lay me down next to him and drew me in, cradling my body like a magnet, protecting me from the world. His arms held firm as I calmed a little. He wiped the tears away with his fingertips.
“No more tears, Rose. I’m here. I’ll protect you.” His golden voice was all I needed. I hid my head in his shoulder and he touched his head to mine. “I thought you were mad at me,” I choked on my lessening sobs. “Don’t be silly. How could I be mad at you?” and he rocked me gently. His body was bare except for the tracksuit bottoms. The faint musky, woodsy scent on his skin was comforting. I breathed in deep. “You’re cold,” I said. “It’s cold outside. The lawn was wet.”. I looked up into his shadowy face. The outline was all I could see. I touched his cheek, cold against my palm. He kissed my fingertips. “I’ll warm you.” I reached inside for my gift. The warmth trickled through my veins and spurted out of my finger onto his lips. I cupped his cheek against my palm. He didn’t flinch, but softly pushed his face closer to my warm hand. “That’s nice,” he whispered. I ran my hand down his neck to his cool shoulder and stroked the length of his arm, warming his blood, heating his skin. As he sucked in a sudden breath, I felt him shudder in response to my touch. I left my hand resting on his chest, and his cheek lay down against mine as I fell asleep. I was no longer scared of the darkness.
- CHAPTER NINE THE BED WAS EMPTY WHEN I WOKE. Morgan slipped away during the early hours of the morning to avoid Daisy finding us. I couldn’t imagine her reaction if she had found Morgan in my room. But he had been. The dream had been real and so had Morgan. I’d opened up to him last night as I had never done to any boy before, and now I felt self-conscious, if not embarrassed. Last night hadn’t been me. In my distraught state he had comforted me, nothing else. I hope he realised that was all it had been, as I did now. I reached for my dream diary and wrote everything I remembered. The skin on my neck prickled as the raw fear remained fresh. They were getting worse. More terrible and horrid. I wasn’t looking forward to tonight. What would happen in the next nightmare? I showered quickly and towel-dried my hair. In the mirror, I could see the aftermath of my disturbed sleep. The dark circles had returned under my eyes; I looked pale and tired. No wonder, that dream would have disturbed the dead. I dressed in jeans and threw on a comfy white tunic, ready for the day. Outside the sun shone but a cool wind brushed through the trees. After I cleaned my teeth I leaned on the washbasin and looked at my reflection closer, remembering how frightened I had been of Aiden. The circle of fire I had seen so often before had led to this point. Visions flickered of Henry Cole and his wretched form. And I cursed softly about my encounter with Morgan. Oh, crap. How would I explain that one? I sighed. Maybe I should stay away from Morgan for a while; maybe I should keep my distance and let the moment pass. On the landing a solitary soldier stood outside a bedroom door. Henry Cole must still be in the house. I closed my door and walked quietly over. “Is Daisy with him?” I asked Collins. He still wore his army uniform, but I was relieved that he no longer had the rifle slung over his shoulder. “No, ma’am. Daisy left the house a little while ago.” “Do you know where she went?” “I believe she was meeting with the police, ma’am,” he offered. “Thank you, Collins,” I said and headed down the staircase. In the kitchen, Pritchard was making a cup of tea. “Want one?” he asked. I sat on one of the stools and nodded. He put my cup down and sat next to me. “Why were you dressed as a fireman when I saw you first?” I asked, staring into my cup. “You have to understand that we’re here to protect you but we’re supposed to be incognito,” he said. “We couldn’t get near you at the fire without sending up a helicopter, and by then it would have been too late. The only way to get closer was for me to hop on and dress in the gear as the engine pulled into the yard.” “So, you and the others have been tailing me ever since I arrived.” He sipped his tea. “Yep, pretty much.” “Do you know why you’re even doing it? I mean, why me?” “I’m just following orders. It’s not my place to ask questions.” I sniggered. “What I can’t get out of my head is that the army doesn’t offer protection to anyone. Not even the prime minister has army security; he has Secret Service, MI5 or some such.” “So?” “Do you track Daisy when she’s out?”
“No, just you.” “Have you had to intervene with anyone yet? Has anyone been a threat on my life?” I said cautiously. “Yes, twice now.” I spun on my stool to see if he was joking but his face was stoic. I held my hands up in defence. “I don’t even want to know when.” “Just as well. But, Rose, maybe you could help us out?” “How?” “Tell us your movements so we can be in place before you get there.” He threw a side glance at me and I saw from his creased brow that he was completely serious. “Isn’t the whole idea of tailing me so that you can do just that?” He chuckled. “Yeah, but if we knew where you were going we could be in place before you got there, instead of spending our time guessing which way you go.” I thought for a moment. “Okay, but how do we do it, without being obvious?” “Text me. The minute your plans change, text me. When you decide to visit somewhere else, text me again. We’ll be following but it’ll give us a chance to move a second unit in ahead of you. You won’t even know we’re there, I promise.” “But, Pritchard, what about my privacy?” “You really think you have it here?” he flicked his head at the walls and the hallway. “There are cameras all over this place, at the gates, on the walls, even in some rooms.” “In my bedroom?” “I don’t know,” he shrugged. “But if you mean, do we know McCaw visited your room last night, then we know.” “’Cause of the soldier outside Henry’s room. He would have reported it.” “He didn’t, but he told me. McCaw isn’t a threat on your life. You just had bad dreams, and you have them a lot.” I stared open mouthed in shock at him. “Does Daisy know?” “About your midnight visitor? No, Rose, she doesn’t want to know your personal stuff. And it’s only Collins and I who know about last night. It won’t go any further, I promise.” I exhaled a sigh of relief. “Had it been the Deverill boy, though, things might have been different.” His ice-cold stare told me he didn’t approve of Aiden. They must have seen how friendly Aiden was last night on the hill. “You don’t like him?” “It’s not that. There are good people who do bad things from time to time. And there are bad people who do good things occasionally. The thing is, your Aiden boy fits into both categories. Kind of confuses things a little.” He raised his shoulders and gulped down his drink. “Who authorised all this tracking and tailing? Daisy?” “Yes. She knows people in high places,” he offered. My head shook again. “Unbelievable.” “But one thing, Rose.” “What?” “Keep it to yourself. Don’t look for us; don’t make anyone else aware that we’re out of there.” “What about Morgan?” “McCaw knows everything. He has full clearance.” “Full clearance? What, is he a spy?” “McCaw passes information to us, if he thinks it’s important. But he’s not a spy, and he doesn’t spy on you.” “No, that’s your job,” I replied, sarcastic.
“We don’t give a damn what you do, Rose, or who with. It’s not our objective,” he said as he stood and cleaned his cup in the sink, returning to his unaffected demeanour. “Where’s your phone?” I pulled it from my pocket and handed it to him. He tapped the buttons, looking closely at the screen before handing it to me. “The first number is mine. It’s marked ‘AAA.’ Text a number, street address, or your intended location. It will really help us.” I placed the phone on the side and nodded. “I hate this. I just want you to know. I’m mad as hell with Daisy. All because of my dad’s job.” “I don’t know anything about that, Rose. Just be careful, keep me informed.” He left the kitchen via the back door, his boots heavy on the concrete outside. I finished my tea alone. I wasn't in the mood for any breakfast so I went to the library. The door stood open and Daisy’s desk remained messy as it had been before. I drew the curtains wide, letting light filter into the semidark room. The view of the back garden was beautiful from here. Daisy had planted some miniature roses in a variety of colours in a rock bed near the window. My mood was only blunted slightly when I caught site of Morgan’s cottage. I started pulling books from the shelves, paying attention to where they came from. I sat in her chair and started writing notes. If I was going to Jez’s again, I needed more information to help him. The first book I checked through had nothing of interest. Mainly just information about Wiltshire in general. No myths or stories. I even checked the pictures to see if any three pointed objects were depicted but there was nothing. The next one had information about King Alfred and his battle at Edington but there was no alchemist or shield mentioned, or buried treasure or monks. I put both books back and tried another from my pile. The next one was more about Imber and the history, the usual stuff. Not much mentioned about the church and no pictures of murals. I put it back as well. The last one I picked up showed promise. It was called Treasures of Wiltshire,” the cover beautifully displaying a picture of a diamond-shaped jewel encased with gold. I looked at the inside cover and read “King Alfred’s Jewel - One of four made. This jewel is currently located in Salisbury Museum.” The museum again. The same one where the shield was exhibited. Was it a coincidence that they were both related to King Alfred? I jotted down the information. There was always a chance it could be useful later. I folded the corner of the page, flicked through to the section on the jewel, and read through the paragraph. The stone was a white crystal embedded with gold filigree and held in place a green emerald cut into the centre. It was said to be the headpiece for a cane or staff. The tale told that in times of need the crystal shone brilliant white and filled the bearer with the magic. There were four made altogether; the other three were plain white crystals, similar but with no central emerald. They were the conduit that gave the King Alfred jewel its power. The article noted that if the three stones surrounded the jewel, it would illuminate and its power would be initiated. What power exactly, it did not reveal. Probably just old-age superstitious mumbo jumbo. I flicked through another couple of books but they held nothing of great importance. The next book was a soft cover much like a paper leaflet. The cover read “Halíka Dacomé and Nerído Xipilé The Truth.” At last, I thought. However, to my dismay, the entire volume was empty. The inner pages had been ripped out, and the back page featured only a small biography of the author. Paul Pemberton again. He had been the author of the Web page I’d tried to read. The biography stated that he lived near Warminster in a place called Heytesbury. Written in Daisy’s hand was an address. I added it in my notes. Maybe I could persuade Hannah to take me there. The books that were of no further use I returned to the shelves, keeping back just two to take with me to Jez’s.
I stowed it all in my room before heading back down to tidy the kitchen. As I put the stray plates in the sink, I saw Morgan striding towards the house. Oh, pants, this was all I needed. I should have bolted to my room before he reached the house. But I had a feeling I’d already been seen. I kept my head down and stacked the dishwasher with glasses, then casually grabbed a tea towel and dried the plates left on the draining board. Morgan was through the door, and he paused, appraising me for what seemed like the longest awkward moment. I took a deep gulp of air, putting the last plate away in the cupboard, and started walking away when his voice halted me in my steps. “Rose, please stop.” I didn’t turn. My hands shook. I was more afraid of what he’d say next, than what he would do. “Look at me,” he said across the room. I turned, unable to hide my pained expression. “Did you sleep okay?” I nodded. “You?” I croaked, my voice stuck in my throat. “Yes, I did,” he smiled faintly from one side of his mouth. “Thank you for asking.” I breathed. I had to get this over with, sooner or later, and then I could get away. “Morgan, I’m sorry about last night. I have bad dreams sometimes,” I whispered, keeping my eyes to the floor. My fingers brushed through my hair in a self-conscious gesture. “I’ll try not to disturb you again.” I caught his gaze. He smiled, but then his lovely face dropped as a show of concern furrowed his brow. “You were screaming so loudly, I heard it from the cottage. I was afraid someone had gotten into the house and was hurting you. I can’t believe that soldier boy didn’t look in to see what the racket was about.” “You mean my newfound security? They’re not allowed to interfere, apparently. It was just me being stupid.” I wrapped my arms protectively around my body. “Rose, what did you dream that was so awful?” he asked, lessening the distance between us. I frowned, remembering. My eyes flashed across the floor again as I saw, once more, the angry face of my nightmare, heard the shouts ringing in my ears. It was still so fresh in my mind. It was too much. I couldn’t bear it. I stepped back, away from him as my arms broke out in goosebumps. A chill swept over me like a wave. I wrapped my arms tighter. Morgan saw my distress. “Okay, don’t worry. But you must tell me soon. How’s Henry?” “I don’t know. Still sleeping, I think. Collins is outside his room.” “Yeah, Daisy’s seeing the chief super right now. She told me what happened when I got home. In the meantime, I have something to show you. Will you come with me? Just to the cottage,” he flicked his fingers out, beckoning. I nodded and followed, swallowing my fear. Inside the cottage he motioned me towards his sofa and told me to sit. Something about his tone warned me to beware. What was coming wasn’t going to be good, I was sure of that. The cottage was unchanged, apart from a small suitcase at the foot of the bed. Morgan disappeared for a moment and returned carrying a laptop. He placed it on the table and sat next to me. “There’s something I want you to see,” he said quietly as he pressed a button on the keyboard. I gave him a curious glance, then watched the blank screen. It changed to a black-and-white picture showing the full expanse of this room from one corner. A picture from a hidden camera. I froze, and then put my hands to my face to hide my shock.
“What is this?” I said through my fingers. “Just watch,” he answered. His frame was poised with calmness, and he continued to stare at the monitor. I looked again, watching his room from the camera viewpoint. Then to my horror, I knew exactly what was going to happen. The camera had picked up my first entrance. In the view, I saw myself look around the room, stopping for a moment. A strange whirl of circles, silvery grey, poured out from my entire body, and I sought the plant from the windowsill. I shuffled uncomfortably on the settee. I could barely watch as I saw my arm rise up, almost disfigured, and my fingers poised downwards sinking grey, silvery shoots into the plant pot. I gulped. Oh, boy. I was deader than the deadest man in Dead Land. Morgan was unperturbed in his seat, scarcely moving, only to flick stray glances in my direction. Once my form finished on the monitor, he closed the screen and took my hands lightly in his. “I’m not angry with you. I just wanted you to know that I knew about your gifts,” he said calmly, peering into my eyes. “Before this, before last night, and before you showed me the box.” I stayed silent, thinking, trying to understand his words. I looked down at his hands delicately holding my own. “You said I could trust you,” I whispered. “You can, with anything.” My heart was telling me that Morgan was good and everything he said was true. But my head told me I had to be cold, calculating, and most of all, mean. My head ruled over my heart; I had no choice. I needed distance. This was getting too claustrophobic. “How dare you spy on me,” I fired back and leapt from the sofa to the other side of the table. He got up, surprised by my reaction, but still calm. “When I saw you leave my house on that first day, I had to find out what you were doing.” “You have no right to have hidden cameras in here! This whole estate has enough cameras already, and now I find that there are soldiers everywhere and I’m being tailed wherever I go. Did you know about that? Did you ever even think to tell me? Or that I had a right to know? My every move is being watched. Do you have any idea how that feels?” I shouted. “But, Rose, you must understand, this is my private home. You shouldn’t have come in here,” he said. “Is that all that’s important to you? Fine! I won’t ever come in here again, and do you know what? I don’t even want to.” He gestured to the computer. “Have you anything to say about the footage?” “No,” I said, blinking quickly. “I have nothing to say. It’s none of your business.” “You can’t deny your own actions. Rose, you didn’t come in here to see my poor dying plants. There was another reason. Just tell me and I’ll delete the episode.” His eyes widened as he pleaded for answers I couldn’t give him. I gritted my teeth and glared. “I don’t have to explain anything to you.” “Okay, was it the box you were looking for or something else?” he said, calmer now. “I can’t tell you.” “So, we’re finally coming back to this again. Rose, just talk to me. I’m trying to be your friend,” he said, despair in his voice, his arms imploring me. “It’s personal. I can’t discuss it, I’m sorry,” I answered. “That’s not good enough. Not for me,” he sucked in a breath, frustrated. Morgan sighed and stepped closer again. So close that I could feel his warm, intoxicating breath on my skin. As we argued, my head spun in a whole spectrum of emotions. I wanted to be mad but I couldn’t. I wanted to be cruel, to push him away, but I couldn’t.
I wanted to yell and scream that he was being unfair but I crumbled. His beautifully sculptured body was so enticing and his eyes, oh, his eyes were glistening at me in a tenderness I had never known. I tried bitterly to unleash my full anger at him, but I was weeping inside. Because most of all, in that moment, I wanted to reach up and hold his cheek in my palm as I had done in that tender moment last night. But all the words I wanted to say wouldn’t come out. My insides were knotted up so tightly I couldn’t think straight. He broke the moment of silence. “You used your gift on me last night.” “I’m sorry,” I said angry and quick, gritting my teeth. “I was trying to make you feel better. My mistake. That won’t happen again, either.” He looked mystified, and his shoulders tightened. “I know you don’t mean that.” “How do you know what I mean? You barely know me,” I fired back. “Because last night you felt something when we touched, as I did,” his voice quivered, and his face was soft again. He fixed his gaze on me, and suddenly I felt like I was drowning in the pool of his eyes. I spoke slowly, my voice flat. “I didn’t feel anything. I was half-asleep. Whatever you thought was happening wasn’t real.” “Don’t do that. Don’t pretend like it didn’t happen. We shared something last night. Rose, it was amazing. Can’t you see that?” His brow gathered above his eyes, and I stalled for a moment, taking in his meaning, comprehending the admittance of his feelings. Tears welled up quickly as my voice finally broke. I wanted to hurt him now for the shame I felt, and he had no right to make me feel this way about him. “You know, ever since I came here, everyone has been singing your praises. ‘Morgan’s great,’ ‘Such a trustworthy person,’ ‘Morgan will look after you,’ “He’s dying to meet you.’ And you know what? All these people were wrong. You’re nothing like they say you are. You’re a conniving, deceitful person who pretends to be my friend. I don’t want anything to do with you.” I was at the door ready to run, when his hand on my arm caught me off guard. I stopped, yanking it out of his grasp. “Get off me,” I said. “Rose, please,” he said, his hands high in surrender. “I’m not your enemy. I would never hurt you. You must know that.” He held my arms, pinning them tightly to my side. My tears finally fell freely. I blinked, trying to stop their flow but I couldn’t. “What do you want from me, Morgan? I can’t give you anything.” “Don’t cry. I don’t want you to cry anymore,” he whispered and pulled me into his arms, holding me close. My breath caught as his hand pushed the middle of my back against his body, and in that moment, I lost the will to fight. The seconds felt like minutes as he cradled me so close. The sensation of his nearness brought alive a passion inside that I had never known, and never thought could exist. I wrapped my arms around his body and ran my fingertips across his back. I felt him shudder in response. The begonia plant brought me back to reality. In its pot on the windowsill, a flower opened fully before my eyes. What was I doing? I withdrew my arms from him and backed away again, his surprised face questioning. I opened the door and ran to the house before he could say another word. I didn’t want his affection; I didn’t need it right now. There was too much going on, and if I’d stayed in his warm hug, I knew I would have kissed him. I just managed to sneak a text to Pritchard as Hannah came up the driveway.
“Hey, you!” Hannah said. “Hey! Someone’s in a good mood!” I said. Hannah carried a happy glow about her. “I saw Jez this morning. He’s in a better mood now that he knows about Henry Cole,” she said. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so hyper.” “Good. Did you talk about anything else?” She smiled but didn’t answer. “Hannah! Come on! Did you talk about you getting together?” She nodded and her grin spread across her face. “That’s great! It’s about time!” She laughed and handed me a helmet. I groaned. “Come on, girlfriend! Let’s go have a picnic!” I laughed and climbed on behind her, gripping tightly. “Tell me about it later!” I shouted over the noise of the engine. “Let’s go!” The ride to Shearwater was hairy; the dual road we travelled on was the main road from Bath to the south of England. We took a turnoff to Shearwater that led us through forests of maples and oaks, their leaves a stunning array of greens, golds, and reds. These should have been halcyon days, and days like today—moments like these—truly were. I could breathe again in the greenness of the woods. I felt at peace here. When we were near, the lake shimmered in the sunlight, fragmented as the light winds sent ripples across the blue-green water. It was mesmerising. The air smelt fresher here, and the shaded areas brought the fragrant aroma of wildflowers. We passed through a car barrier and paralleled the lake for a mile. The lake house was easy to spot in the distance. It was the only building and jutted out to the water’s edge. Under a shade of trees, I spotted three or four people sitting on the ground. Someone had been thoughtful enough to bring blankets and cushions. I spotted Mira straight away and waved, excited to see her again. On the edge of a small clearing, we stopped and parked in the shade. As soon as we rid ourselves of helmets and bags, we joined the small gathering. Mira jumped up on seeing us, smiling widely. “You’re here!” “Hi, everyone,” Hannah said warmly. “Rose, you remember Debbie, organiser extraordinaire of the finest picnics. We met at the Catcher’s Call.” I did remember Debbie’s face but not her name. She was tall, svelte, her face partly hidden behind a curtain of long red hair. She grinned as she continued opening wicker baskets of containers, sandwich boxes, and salad bowls, placing them into the centre of the blanket. Mira continued. “And this is Lucinda.” The small-framed girl seemed timid. Her wavy blond curls bounced around her thin but stunningly pretty face. She waved a hand and said hi. “And this is Sean. You met him at the coffee shop, too.” Sean stood and offered his hand. He was short with rounded red cheeks and a dimpled chin but sported a cheeky grin. “Film club, right?” I recalled vaguely. “Well remembered. Glad you could join us.” He guided me over to sit next to him on the blankets.
Soon we were sitting in a circle around the plates and open containers of food. Debbie removed the lids and told us to help ourselves. There were chicken legs, spare ribs, cucumber slices, cherry tomatoes, potato salad, fruit salad, nut salad, and so much more. I hoped there would be others coming to join our gathering. We certainly wouldn’t finish all this delicious food. Debbie had really outdone herself. “So, how are you liking Warminster so far?” Debbie asked. Should I mention the weirdness, how the army is tailing me, or about Morgan, the strange dreams, Henry Cole, the oddness when Aiden held my hand? No. Keep it simple. “Great, thanks. I used to come here on holidays, so it’s not completely strange,” I said. “I always loved coming here. Mira, Hannah, and I used to play together.” “That’s right,” said Sean. “I remember Daisy telling me. I bet it’s changed a lot, though, since you were here last.” “A little. She’s still in the same house but it’s so much bigger than I thought. The town hasn’t changed much,” I said. “Do you have any hobbies?” Lucinda asked. I was unsure but her tone seemed dull and her eyes didn’t smile at all. “What do you like to do?” “I like running,” I said, racking my brain for something interesting to tell them. “And history, and the odd party, of course. Shopping, music, films. That’s about it!” “I can’t stand running,” Sean answered, and everyone giggled. His heftiness had already told me that he wasn’t a fan. “But I like films and there’s a cinema in town. We’ll have to go sometime.” “Sure. What kind of films do they show?” “Mostly art films but they do run the odd box office hit,” he said. “You have to catch them quick and get the tickets days in advance.” “Oh, okay,” I said, glad I’d found someone with a similar interest. “I’ll give you my mobile number and we can arrange something.” “Great. You have no idea how dull my summer has been so far,” he said, picking up a plate of tiny sandwiches and offering them to me. I took a couple, and nibbled. Mira was chatting to Debbie about someone named Spencer. Lucinda sat quietly, looking bored. Hannah reached into a basket and offered bottles of water. “We should make a toast. Here’s to a great summer and to Rose,” she looked at me. “We’re glad you’re here!” “To Rose!” they all cried, then everyone clanked their bottles together. “I like your earrings. They’re really pretty,” Debbie said to me. I fingered my ears trying to remember which ones I had put in this morning. The ruby stones, my salvation when my headaches occurred. “So, how was last night at the Watch?” Sean asked. “Did you go?” “It was okay. Better than I expected, chanting notwithstanding.” “Rose arranged a bet and I won,” said Mira, clearly still delighted. “I hadn’t noticed the signs, everyone stood on them. Mira had an unfair advantage,” I said. “Not so!” “Aiden turned up with his buddies. He chatted to Rose most of the night,” said Hannah. “Oh, be careful with Aiden. He’s a nasty piece of work,” said Sean. “Really? He was nice enough to me,” I replied. “Aiden being nice, that’s a new one,” Lucinda chimed in. “What? He’s that unpleasant? We got along great.” A little too great, I thought. “Be careful. He used to bully me at school. He can be very cruel if he wants to,” said Sean. “Mind you, he changed when he came out of juvie.” “Juvie?”
“Oh, yes, our Aiden was a juvenile offender at the age of twelve. He was away for a couple of years. He came back a little quieter, but still bad.” “I’ll bear it in mind, but I can take care of myself. Anyway, Mira and Mike seemed to hit it off.” I changed the subject. “I only held his hand for five minutes.” “Looked cosy enough to me!” Hannah laughed. “It seems like we missed a good time. I wished I’d gone now,” said Debbie, disappointed. The conversation drifted to school matters, more gossip about people from town. It was weird not knowing whom they were chatting about. I still felt a little like an outsider. From the corner of my eye, I noticed Lucinda glance my way a couple of times, staring or maybe glaring. Sean kept me entertained, making sure I never sat too long in quiet. Lucinda barely spoke but Hannah chatted eagerly with everyone and Mira, with Debbie’s help, kept the talk flowing. “So, you haven’t met Morgan yet?” Debbie said across from me. I felt a flush rise to my cheeks but I managed to calm it down. The question had caught me out of the blue. Oh, yes, I’ve met him. “Er, yes. I saw him yesterday, and this morning briefly,” I managed to say. “He’s been so excited about meeting you. He’s been on and on about you coming to live here. I think he’s going to be grateful of your company being as it’s been only him and Daisy living in the sticks,” Debbie continued. “You better watch out though, Rose. Now he’s a favourite with the girls. Some think he is to die for, in the looks department. I can’t see it myself, but what would I know?” Sean winked at me, grinning. “Well, good job for him that I’m not interested,” I laughed, stowing my emotions. “Have you got a boyfriend in Manchester still?” Sean asked me. I noticed that everyone had stopped talking and listened for my answer. “No,” I said, embarrassed. “I don’t.” “Are you kidding? Why not?” Debbie asked. “Well, the guys I liked were too old for me. And the guys who were interested in me were too young,” I said truthfully. I hated talking about this subject. I’d had crushes but nothing that didn’t pass away within a few weeks. A few hopeful boys had asked me out on dates but they didn’t appeal to me in a romantic way. For one thing, they always seemed much younger, less mature, even though they were usually from my school year. The older guys that I had wanted to get to know better always balked at my age, which was confusing because I was constantly being told that I looked older than I was. “I don’t believe that for a minute. You just wait ’til school starts. All the guys will be swarming around you,” Mira laughed. “Why? Is there a girl shortage here?” I said. Mira had such a gorgeous, slender figure, it’d surprised me that she was single. “Rose, you look like a supermodel. What guy wouldn’t want to go out with you?” I glared at her in disbelief. “Don’t look at me like that, Rose, it’s true!” “Mira, shut up! Why are you single?” I threw a paper towel at her. “I know everyone, and I don’t fancy any of them, that’s why!” she answered, throwing the paper towel back at me. “Lucinda? Do you have a boyfriend?” I asked. She had been too quiet and hadn’t joined in at all.
“Oh, Lucie has fancied the same boy since we were twelve. I keep telling her she should give up on him,” Debbie said, flicking her hair out of her face. “I mean, he knows Lucie likes him but he just leads her on.” “No, he doesn’t,” Lucinda said defensively. “Actually, he was with me last night. Well, until about two this morning. And I mean with me.” “You mean, you and he⎯” Mira asked, but it was clear that Mira would never say the “S” word. Sex was something you did only when you were ready for it, and I guessed Mira and Hannah shared my view that sex was something worth waiting for. I wasn’t ready to give myself to anyone yet. Of course, there were always those who did it earlier, and felt that they were grown-up because they’d crossed that imaginary bridge, but I was in no rush. “Well, not exactly but almost. It’s only a matter of time,” Lucinda flushed red, and smiled. “No!” Debbie stared in amazement. “I hope you were careful.” She flushed redder. “We were.” “At your house? While your parents are away?” Sean asked, grinning. “Yes. He finished work and came straight over. He was so sweet,” she said coyly. “So, you didn’t exactly do it,” Hannah said. “Not all the way, but next time we will.” “Lucie, you hussy!” Debbie exclaimed. “When are you seeing him again?” “I’m not sure, maybe later?” “Who is he?” I said. “Oh, it’s Morgan. Who else?” Debbie blurted out. “She’s had a crush on him since forever. Seems like she’s finally got her man!”
- CHAPTER TEN THE SHARP PAIN IN MY CHEST FELT LIKE A DAGGER PIERCING MY HEART. No one noticed my sudden silence or lack of movement. Just as Debbie had spoken his name, my stomach dropped to the floor. I felt … ill. As if my food was going to land on my lap again. After everything that had happened, last night and this morning, Morgan had been with Lucie before coming to my room. I felt suddenly dirty, betrayed, and most of all, crushed. I swallowed quickly, and recklessly used my gift to halt the red flush that was rising in my cheeks. Everyone was still paying attention to Lucie, so the tears that pooled in my eyes went unseen, as did the tiny sparkle that shot out from one of my fingers. I wallowed in my solitary despair. I wanted to cry, to scream away my anger and my hurt. I wanted to scream at Morgan. How dare he use me? I gulped down some more water to compose myself. I would deal with this later, but thank God I’d kept our intimate actions quiet from the others. I couldn’t have borne their sympathy; it would have been too much. “Shut up!” Lucinda cried out. “Just tell everyone, why don’t you.” “Well, they all know except for Rose. It’s not secret.” Now Debbie was being defensive and I saw a dark look cross Lucinda’s face aimed at me. What did I care if she liked Morgan now? She could have him, with my blessing. Sean changed the subject and confessed that he’d never had a girlfriend but admitted that he wasn’t sure yet about the girl species. “I’ve just never met anyone I’ve had that thing with.” He tilted his head when he said “that thing,” but I knew what he was talking about. I’d already felt it. “That thing?” Debbie mimicked. “Oh, I’ve had that thing! When you meet someone and you stare into their eyes, and they stare into yours, and the whole world disappears around you. It doesn’t last; something always spoils it, or gets in the way.” “But what’s it like, when you have it?” Hannah asked. She was thinking about Jez, I was sure. Her eyes gave off the same twinkle I saw earlier. “When you see that person for the first time, it’s like a spark suddenly ignites inside you,” Debbie explained. “You don’t know where it starts—your heart, your stomach, who knows. But you know when it’s there. It races around your body so fast that your heart can’t keep up. You can’t breathe. You feel the ground slipping away from under your feet as if you’re walking on air. Your body goes cold and hot all at the same time. And you know, absolutely, that he’s the one. And in that moment, you would do anything for him, be anything for him because he is your world. Nothing else matters.” “Wow,” Mira said. “I’ve been out with guys but I’ve never felt like that.” “Maybe we’re not meeting people in the right places. We need to get out more,” Sean said. “I’d like to meet a girl who would do anything for me.” We all laughed again. It was sincere and Sean knew it. “So, are you going out with anyone now?” I asked Debbie, keeping my voice under control. She shook her head. “No, not at the moment. I like someone but he ignores me, and pretends that I don’t exist.” She gave Lucinda a knowing glance as she said this. “Yes, but don’t us guys do that when we like someone, too? Maybe he’s just shy,” Sean added. “Spencer is not shy,” Debbie said defensively. “He just hangs round with the wrong people.” “Who does he mix with. Anyone from town?” I asked. “He’s one of Aiden Deverill’s friends,” Debbie said. “He rarely leaves Aiden’s side, except to fetch and carry for him. I knew Spencer when we were kids at playgroup. He changed a lot over the years and now we don’t speak at all.”
“But you’d like to,” I added. “Oh, yeah,” she sighed as she sipped from her water bottle. “I’d like to.” “Doesn’t Jason hang around with the same crowd?” I asked Mira. She chuckled. “Yep, but don’t ask me to tell Jason anything. He has a head like a sieve. And you know guys don’t get involved with a friend’s girl problems. They think it’s a sign of weakness. They’re all alphas at the end of the day.” I could feel a plan coming on as I spoke. “So, we have to do something. Is Spencer going to the party at Cley Hill?” Debbie nodded. “Okay, so we just have to get you alone with Spencer, so you can ... talk. The rest will be up to you.” “What have you got in mind?” she said quietly. “I’m not sure yet.” “That’s Rose,” Mira said to the others. “She could always devise a plan.” “What? Even when it means falling into a brook and being carried away by mad men!” I added. Everyone laughed. It was clear that they’d all heard the story of Old Mad Cole. Somehow, it didn’t seem so funny when I thought of him and how I’d seen him last night. “But it was your idea to climb that tree, and you convinced us that the branches wouldn’t break,” Hannah chipped in. “Stupid branches. I didn’t know the tree was dead, did I?” Sean was in stitches beside me. Even Lucinda cracked a smile. “How is he?” Debbie asked me. “I don’t know. When I got up he was still sleeping. I don’t know anything else,” I shrugged. “Poor beggar. He must have gone through hell,” Sean said. “And back again,” added Mira. Sean and Mira stopped abruptly; Lucinda followed their gaze at something behind us. “What is it?” “There’s a car coming,” Hannah said, shielding her eyes from the sun as she peered. “I didn’t think cars were allowed up here,” I said, turning to look. I couldn’t see anything. I hoped it wasn’t Pritchard, but also hoped that they were nearby. I had promised not to check them out. “Cars aren’t allowed. Someone must have opened the barrier,” Debbie said. “And they clearly ignored the ‘No Cars’ sign,” Sean added. As they spoke I could hear the low but gradually increasing rumble of a sports car engine getting ever nearer. I twisted back around to get a clearer view. “I don’t believe it. What’s he doing here?” Mira said, aghast. “How did he know we were here? This is where the road ends. There’s nowhere else he could go?” Sean said quizzically. “Who is it?” I asked. “Aiden Deverill,” Debbie spoke quietly. “And I think it’s my fault he’s here. My dad was meeting with Ben today. He must have mentioned that we were all getting together.” “Great,” Sean said, disgusted. “I wonder what he wants.” “Or who,” Lucinda said, looking directly at me. Everyone else followed suit. “What does he want me for? I don’t have anything to say to him,” I said defensively. “Maybe he wants to continue what he started last night,” Hannah muttered to me. The others didn’t hear. I caught her glance but shook my head at her. No, I didn’t want that. The shiny red convertible came around the last corner and pulled into the small clearing next to Hannah’s bike.
I could see Aiden clearly now. His side window was down, though his sunglasses hid his eyes. I felt everyone stiffen as he got out the car and walked towards us. For a moment I was very confused. What was it about Aiden that brought out such strong emotions in everyone? I could feel the sudden combined negative energy charging around our gathering. It knocked against me like a car in a collision, painful and ugly. They hated and feared him. In reality Aiden had been nice to me. At the Watch, he had been caring, and we had laughed together. Even Mira and Hannah had got along with his friends, but in my dream he had been anything but nice. The menacing face haunted me still. If he wanted to hurt me, it wouldn’t be here in this open place. I had to be on my guard. I hoped the army boys were close by. “Hello, everyone. This looks cosy,” he said coolly. It was a greeting but there was no sentiment to his words. “Hi, Aiden,” Debbie smiled falsely. “Would you like to join us?” “No, thanks,” he said. He nodded at Sean and smiled at Lucinda before turning his eyes to me. “Actually, it’s Rose I wanted to see.” He looked at me intently. “Do you mind if I take her away from you for a few minutes?” I glanced at Mira and Hannah, hoping for a small objection, but they stayed still and shook their heads. Hannah whispered an apology and Mira gave me a forlorn smile. “What do you want?” I said, a little harshly, which made the girls balk at my response. They had both seen us getting along, so they would have no idea why I was being impolite. “I want to talk to you about something, and it can’t wait.” He still hadn’t removed his glasses, so I had no idea if my brusqueness had any effect. His expression was largely hidden. “Come with me.” He offered a hand but I only stared at it. I could get up without his aid. Besides, once I took it he probably wouldn’t let go. It would have been like last night all over again. That thought made me shiver, though it wasn’t a bad one. As we walked away, I looked over my shoulder at my new friends. They all wore worried expressions. Only Lucinda smiled a little. He guided me along the lake edge and around the next corner until we were out of sight of the group. There was a small bench. I sat on it. “What are you doing here?” I asked. “I was in the area, so I thought I’d pop by to see how you were. And see if you enjoyed last night,” he said, still standing, watching the water glitter in the wind. “I’m fine, thank you,” I said. “But did you really come all this way to check on my well-being?” “Yes and no.” He sighed and finally sat down. “I really wanted to see you again. Maybe I should have come at another time, but I didn’t think you’d mind.” He looked over his shoulder in the direction of the picnickers. “It’s okay, I don’t mind. Though they might,” I nodded in the same direction and we shared a smile. His genuinely pleasant manner brought me up a little, and despite my earlier uncertainties, he made me feel comfortable. I tried to reach for an energy connection, good or bad, as I had felt earlier around our group, as I could with most people, but there was nothing, a void. It was peculiar, but the air surrounding him fizzled with nothing. My eyes squinted as I tried again but the outcome was still the same. Nothing. And it came to me in a flash. There was something very wrong with Aiden, and this confirmed it. I recalled a conversation with Daisy after the fire, about whether he was like me—different.
I glanced at him from the corner of my eye. He was dressed immaculately again. His thin black V-neck sweater defined his powerful shoulders and tight chest. His hair was shiny, long, and black like his sweater. This time I noticed how striking he was to look at, his chiselled cheekbones and soft jawline any model’s envy. He would have turned heads in a crowd. He chuckled. “What are you looking at?” “Nothing,” I said. I felt a flush creep into my cheeks at being caught but I let it rise. “Did you enjoy last night?” “Of course. It was fun. Did you?” He laughed loudly. “Yeah, it had its moments.” He straddled the bench and faced me. Finally, he lifted his sunglasses from his eyes and pulled them back through his hair. I turned on the bench also, and it was only then that I looked into his eyes. I’d forgotten my shock of seeing them for the first time, and how piercing they were. The bluest sapphire-coloured eyes I’d ever seen. I froze, and for that moment, time appeared to stand still. I blinked, as if something woke me from the dreamlike state. He was staring at me, into my eyes, as deeply as I had in his. He appeared mesmerised, but I couldn’t imagine why. Was I a freak? Did he think I was ugly? I knew my eyes were bright but did he have to stare so? It wasn’t as Debbie had described early. This wasn’t passion or a crush. This was something else. It was as if a connection that had for so long been lost was suddenly found. Like meeting up with an old friend, except that I had only met Aiden twice before. We both looked away at the same time and laughed off the awkward moment. “Wow, I heard that your eyes were unusual but I didn’t imagine—” he said softly. “You didn’t imagine that they’d be as bright as yours?” I said, answering his sentence. “No, that’s not it. Mine are bright but yours are beautiful. I don’t think I’ve ever seen such a vivid green,” he concluded. “Last night all I saw was dark.” “It’s funny. Everyone else in my family has brown eyes. I don’t know where the green comes from. Must be a fluke,” I said self-consciously. “Rose, I’d really like to get to know you better. Please give me the chance.” “Aiden, I’ll be honest here. I’ve heard stories about you and they’re not all favourable. But I have never been a person to judge anyone prior to meeting them, so I should be apologising. I was rude earlier, and I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve that. Let’s just get to know each other and see how we go, okay?” “Sure.” “Aiden, while you’re here, and while I have the advantage of not really knowing you that well, I’d like to ask a favour.” “What is it?” he looked bemused. “Your friend, Spencer? I believe one in my group would really like to go out with him, and I’m sure you know who I mean.” “Ah, Debbie, yes. I thought she didn’t like him any more.” “Well, she still does.” “Okay, so what’s the favour?” “At the Cley Hill party, you’ll give Spencer time alone. Let him and Debbie have some space, you know, together.” “Rose, I have only Spencer’s best interests at heart. I told him to stay away from her because I thought she didn’t like him. But I will do as you ask,” he said as a half-smile reached his lips. “But I have some bad news.” “What is it?”
“I can’t take you out as I promised. I have a project that I have to help with, it’s … delicate you might say. ” “Something with your grandfather?” “Yeah,” he replied. “I really want to see you again sometime, but I have to do this for him. The project’s nearing its end, and I can’t afford to get things wrong.” He frowned, thinking of something sad, I guessed. I almost felt sorry for him but I didn’t know why. “Okay. What’s the project?” I asked earnestly. “I can’t tell you. It’s his life’s work. He needs me now more than ever. And I have to be around. I’m sorry.” I was confused again but I let it pass. He had a habit of talking in riddles and now wasn’t the time for decrypting them. Last night he had been more eager to take me out and now he was cooling off of the idea. Trust me to mess things up. “Yeah, okay. Maybe we can find some time to talk soon,” I said. “I’d like that, very much,” he smiled. “And I’ll see you at the party, anyway.” “Will you talk to me or stay with your friends?” “It’s not a good idea for you to be seen with me so openly. The Watch was dark so I saved your reputation,” he chuckled. “The party will be different. As you’ve already found out, I’m not very liked around here, and you’ve only just arrived. I wouldn’t want it to brush off on you.” “I don’t care what other people say. I’ll like who I want to like,” I said. “Okay, then,” he grinned. “Rose, as a friend, please be careful with the people in your company.” He jerked his head in the direction of the others. “What do you mean?” “If I could give you one piece of advice, it would be to be careful who you trust; they’re not all who they appear to be. And some will betray you.” I frowned. My stomach plummeted as he spoke. The blood drained from my face as I scanned his. A crease appeared above his furrowed eyebrows, pushed down over his sparkling eyes. His lips parted slightly. His face became pensive, ominous. He was deadly serious and his sombre gaze didn’t waiver as he stared into my eyes. I turned and looked out over the lake, to see the crystal water shimmering, and two butterflies chasing each other in the light wind. His words hit home. His warning was real. “That is a very dangerous thing to say, Aiden,” I said slowly. “I’ve known Hannah and Mira since we were children. They’d never betray me. And the others are their friends. Why would they do that?” “All I’m saying is to be careful, and I’m saying it as someone who only wants the best for you.” “No, that’s not what you said,” I slowly stood. Our close conversation suddenly felt inappropriate. If I had been under a spell before, I was over it now. The dream flashed back and my defences went up again. “You said they would betray me. Why would you say that?” “A time will come when you won’t know who to trust. And I want you to know that you can always trust me, no matter what.” He faced me, his eyes flickering around my face before poring into mine with his full meaning. I stepped back. “That’s not a very nice thing to say. You sound a little insane right now, Aiden. I’m going back to my friends and forget you said that, okay? I meant what I said earlier, but we’re done here.” I kept my steps even as I walked away from him but he was whispering something out of my earshot, and I couldn’t pick the words out. As my pace quickened, I felt a sudden hammerlike thumping around my temple.
“Damn it,” I whispered, and tried to rub away the pain. Of all the times to get a headache, it had to be now. A streaking jab like a lightning bolt blasted through my skull, attacking my balance. I sank to my knees as I cried out, clawing my fingers through my hair. The thunder inside my skull got louder and louder. I could only compare it to the blasting static, like tuning in a radio, but loud, really loud. Again and again, it scraped, back and forth. I opened my eyes but the view had turned a shade of red. There was red water in the lake, and a red sky. Even the trees were a dozen shades of light and dark scarlet. I felt my stomach churn in protest so I gulped fresh air back down in defiance. Still kneeling, my body wasn’t swaying as much. My eardrums beat loud and rampant. For less than a second, I thought I saw a pair of camouflaged faces through the trees. I shook my head at them. If they were there, I wasn’t going to blow their cover. “Oh my God, Rose, are you okay?” Aiden lifted me up and led me back to the bench. I had no power to object. “I think I need to go home,” I managed to say, as I shielded my eyes from the sunlight. It was too bright; the red hue wouldn’t fade. I suddenly craved darkness. “I’ll get my car. Wait here.” Even his voice grated. I lay down on the bench. I could feel blood pumping around my temples to the roof of my skull and I tried to blank out the static but it kept flicking on, off, on, off. The next moments were a blur. I remembered the sound of running, more than one person, all of it amplified too loudly. I grasped my head again, screaming in agony. I heard concerned voices, before being lifted from the bench and gently placed into a car seat. Someone buckled me in. “Rose, if you can hear me, I’ll phone you,” I think it was Mira, her high-pitched voice distinct. “Aiden, make sure she knows.” I shrieked as another wave hit and found short-lived solace against the cool car window, as the car started moving. It could only have been a few minutes, and we were slowing down. “We’re just a moment away, Rose. I’ve phoned Daisy already,” his soft voice no longer grated but was full of concern. I felt his hand hold onto mine. I didn’t let it go, his cool skin soothing. His thumb stroked my palm, and the tiny motion was light and relieving. The tenderness in my temples ebbed. I heard the familiar gravel under the tyres and the motion of movement stopped. Aiden carried me; I could smell his scent and clung to his sweater. I heard some shouting from a distance, Morgan possibly, cursing at Aiden. Up and up we went before I landed softly on the bed. I could no longer endure the throbbing. The smarting jabbed once more before the coolness left my hand and I passed out into darkness. Something cool and soft was placed on my forehead … my feet were freed of my shoes and my legs placed gently down. A soft touch stroked my hand to my fingers … a painful jab in my arm … Was that my cry? A hand held my own … a warm cover placed over me … Another cool sensation on my forehead … Soft voices in the distance … whispering … my hand was held again … The black shadow drew me back in and took me to its centre. The faint dawn light seeped in between my eyelids. I opened them slowly, waiting for the smarting to hit, but there was nothing. No pain, no sign of soreness at all. My head felt clear. My eyes were a little hazy and dizziness stopped any sudden movements. The soft hue of the early morning filtered through my window and I lay for a moment getting my bearings, my body still a little numb.
My right arm ached like hell. I felt down and found a small plaster in the inside of my elbow so I yanked it off, my skin perfectly clear underneath. I wondered what it was from. Had I needed an injection for some reason? Surely Mum had advised Daisy sleep was better for my headaches than medication. I tried to move my arm but my hand was weighted down, wrapped in one much larger. Morgan had brought a chair close to the bed, his body bent over so his head was resting on the covers facing me. He was still fast asleep, and his short blond hair glistened in the early light. Singular strands had fallen over his forehead, shimmering like strands of beaded glass. While I sat motionless I was caught between my reluctance to wake him, and my need to stretch. My reluctance diminished as I began to remember. Lucie. He had been with Lucie. I blinked unexpected tears away as I looked down at the softness of his skin, the perfect lines of his kindly face. How could he have wounded me so deeply, so quickly? Yesterday I had wondered about what love felt like. Now the warmth that emanated from his energy was invigorating me. I could feel the pulsing absorb into my skin, through my veins. But as of now, he was not my friend and had no right to hold my hand this way. In my confused state, I slowly withdrew it from his grasp and edged towards the opposite side of the bed. I got up, and found my slippers and dressing gown from behind the door, steadying myself from wooziness, before closing it behind me and heading down the empty corridor to the stairs. In the kitchen, I made a cup of camomile tea and wandered into the garden to watch the day break. The air was fresh on my face as I walked across the lawn, soft and forgiving under my steps, and sat on Daisy’s bench. My ears were keener than before, as if my senses had shifted precedence. I could hear the insects buzzing around opening blooms, the lawn sucking on the heavy dew. The birds began their early morning calls, chirping beautiful sounds across the waves of air, and everything else was still. Taking in the quietness, I sipped my tea, keeping my eyes closed to listen harder. I draped my hand over the side of the bench and rubbed my fingers into the grass. There was nothing that needed my help. It was a nice, tingly feeling, content almost. In the kitchen, I heard sounds. I hadn’t the energy to scan the house for people but someone was trying to be quiet. My astute ears picked up the soft footfalls that were coming closer. I guessed he might follow me. I observed the garden as the sun rose above the walls and the golden shreds began their morning ritual of warming the earth. What was shade coloured in the sunlight. “Hi,” the soft masculine voice purred. I didn’t look in his direction, afraid that my crazy emotions might betray me. I continued in my forward fixation. “Hi,” I whispered back. He sat down, but kept a space between us. “How are you feeling?” His tone calm, his voice concerned. “I’m okay,” I said and looked at him for the first time. I couldn’t resist. “No residue of headache at all. Just tired.” It was difficult to breathe and my stomach plunged into the depths of my gut. My blood started racing, charging around my body. To my embarrassment, my cheeks flared against the coldness of the air. I fingered my loose hair, drawing a lock across my face. I didn’t want to feel this way. I wanted to hate him again. “Daisy gave you a mild painkiller, if you’re wondering about your arm,” he said. “That will explain the plaster, but it wasn’t necessary,” I answered in defence. “What do you remember?”
“Being carried upstairs, then nothing.” “Aiden said that you fainted. He brought you home. While you slept, you were murmuring things. You got quite agitated at one point, and it took all of us to hold you down and stop you from thrashing out. You calmed after the injection. I stayed in case you woke and needed anything. I hoped you wouldn’t mind.” I shook my head in answer. “I was thrashing? And what was I murmuring?” “Well, I did like the way you almost hit Aiden. It made me laugh. He must have really annoyed you, which for Aiden is not difficult to do. And as for what you were saying, it was all gibberish. I couldn’t understand anything. Sorry.” We were still whispering, I realised. Somehow it didn’t feel right to speak loudly in the quiet serenity of the morning. “Do you get headaches a lot?” “One a week, sometimes fewer. At the moment, more,” I sighed. “Do you note down when they occur? Is it after eating a particular food, or could it be an allergy to light?” “No, but believe me when I say I’ve seen enough doctors. The headaches are purely random.” “What happened yesterday when it started?” I tried to think back to the last memory I had. Aiden had upset me with his talk of betrayal. “I was just chatting to Aiden. Nothing special.” “What did he say?” Morgan leaned towards me. His arm was now resting on the back of the bench. His fingers were closer. I tried to edge away. “It’s all a bit hazy. I can’t remember,” I lied. I continued to avoid his gaze and began to sense his discomfort. “Rose?” he whispered more sternly. “Yes?” “Have I done something wrong?” I paused. I wasn’t ready for any confrontation yet. “No.” “I didn’t scare you when you woke up?” “No, ’course not,” I said quickly, and giggled nervously at his ludicrous question. “Then why won’t you look at me?” As he spoke, he stretched his fingers and stroked my arm. This was exactly why I couldn’t look at him. He was making me feel more than I’d like. But it was a straightforward question, which, at the moment, I couldn’t answer. Why didn’t I look at him? But the answer soon followed like a thunder crack. I was scared of these feelings, and I had no experience with this. My short answers had not been by accident. I just couldn’t think properly about his questions. It was difficult to form words, or even utter them, such were my damaged feelings. I avoided his last question and stood up, looking at him fully. No, he was too enthralling. “I’ll see you later,” I managed to mumble. He called after me but I ran across the lawn to the house, dumped my cup in the kitchen sink, and ran upstairs to my room. The chair was still in place beside the bed and I imagined him again as I had this morning, sleeping gently. I dragged my fingers to my head and pulled them through my hair. A thousand thoughts fluttered around my head. I felt as if I was being pulled and pushed at the same time, the inertia overwhelming. I wanted to sit down but I knew I would stand up again if I did. What was I doing? Why did I feel so confused? I was so restless now there was only one thing I could do: I needed to run. Daisy popped her head around the door just as I was heading out. She hugged me, over the moon at my rapid recovery.
I asked her about Henry. He was now in an army hospital receiving treatment. The police had thought it wise to keep him out of sight for the moment. They were considering opening up the cold case file again on him and Agatha Millard. As yet, Henry hadn’t talked except to say that he had been held underground. No mention of who might have tortured him to such a state. Daisy apologised but a scheduled meeting would keep her away for a while. She promised to return later to check how I was, and also explain about the security, the army, the tracking, everything. I couldn’t be mad at her anymore and when she left, she kissed my cheek and held me in a tight embrace, calling me her angel. It was moments like those when I really loved Daisy. Sometimes her frequent absences made me question whether I was important to her. Her life was so busy. But I felt reassurance in her hug that she cared very deeply. The run was great. I stretched all the aches from my muscles and filled my head and lungs with clear air. I felt energised and fresh again. As I walked into the house, the phone rang. “Hello?” “Hi, Rose? I wanted to find out how you were,” Mira saidin her voice bubbly. “Are you feeling better? We were so worried.” “I’m feeling all right. What are you up to today?” “I’m working with my dad. He’s got some interesting plans of the town. I thought it might help your research,” she answered, excited. “Will you be at Jez’s later?” “I don’t know. I’ve nothing planned as yet. I’m going to call him in a minute, see what he’s doing.” “Okay, sounds good. I’ve just spoken to Hannah. She’s at her mum’s work today, bored out of her head, but she says hi and hopes you’re okay.” “Thanks. I’m really sorry about ruining the picnic.” “Oh, don’t worry about that. Hannah and I filled them in about your headaches. They’re fine about it.” “You’re sure? It was pretty embarrassing.” “Totally fine. It’s a shame Aiden had to come and spoil the fun, though.” “I know, but lucky for me he had a car. Otherwise someone else would’ve had to leave early.” “We wouldn’t have minded. Was Aiden okay with you? Did he upset you?” Was she probing now? “No, he was really nice. He carried me up to my room and left.” “Wow, he’s so different when he’s around you. I couldn’t believe it when he turned up yesterday just to see you.” “Mira, what does Aiden do to be so unpopular?” “He does a lot of ‘chores’ for his grandfather. Mostly clearing up the messes in his grandfather’s wake. Bullying people, demanding money for outstanding debts. He’s a law unto himself. I’ve heard rumours that half the shops pay him protection money, and when they can’t pay, he gets violent. I’ve also heard that when Charlotte Mandel couldn’t pay the rent, Aiden and his buddies literally threw all of her belongings out the window. He didn’t even let her pack. Just dumped everything on the front garden.” “That’s terrible!” I said.
“And, another time, when they were knocking down some houses to make way for the community hospital, the last people to leave wouldn’t go. So he and his group broke down the door in the middle of the night and ‘removed them.’ They were left in their nightclothes in the street. It was dreadful. And Ben Deverill denied it when they complained to the council. Because they wouldn’t move out, they had no entitlements. Ben’s nasty, too. I don’t know why Daisy doesn’t see it. She’s so friendly with him.” “I don’t know, either, but Daisy’s her own person, I guess.” “Maybe you’re the one to tame Aiden after all,” she giggled. “Jason likes him. Says the work’s tough sometimes, but he gets along with him okay. I don’t think he does the violent, punching stuff. He works somewhere else,” Mira continued. “Anyway, Rose, someone’s just walked in. I’ve got to go, so I’ll see you later, okay? Bye.” “Bye, Mira, I’ll catch you later.” I was still reeling from the conversation. Could Aiden be that bad? I tried to call Hannah a few times but there was no answer. I phoned Jez instead. It rang once and he answered, glad to hear from me. He’d found out some new information so could I come over soon with Morgan? I sighed and said I would. My legs were a little shaky after the run so I headed upstairs for a shower. Afterwards I lay on my bed. The soft music from my CD player lulled me into a light sleep, and the warmth of the sun through my windows warmed my skin. I had never been a daytime sleeper, but the headache yesterday and the run earlier zapped me of energy. I came around at the knocking on my door. “Rose, are you in there?” Morgan said quietly. “Yep. Hang on,” I said, and clambered off the bed. At the door Morgan was dressed head to toe in black biker leathers. He looked at me awkwardly. “Jez phoned me and said you were heading over. I’m going there now so I could give you a lift?” he said. I paused. I could distance Morgan enough for the time being. “Okay, just give me a minute to grab my stuff,” I said, combing my shaky fingers through my hair. “I’ll be out front,” and he was gone. With my bag slung across my chest, I waited on the porch for Morgan. The deep rumble of a bike approached and when the gates opened, my jaw dropped. Morgan wasn’t riding any bike. It was one of those superbikes you see on a sports channel. The frame was completely covered in black shielding and the wheels were three times as wide as Hannah’s moped. It was an amazing sight. Morgan completed the vision in his leather bike suit. The visor of his helmet made it impossible to see his face but he must have seen my reaction. He flipped up his visor and said, “Do you like it?” “Yeah! It’s gorgeous,” I said, unable to hide my surprise. His eyes, the only feature of his face visible, pulled at the sides as he smiled. He handed me a second helmet from somewhere up front, watching as I put it on. “Here, I just need to clip this in, and then you can get on.” In his fingers he held a thin cord and plugged it into a hole at the front of my helmet. “What’s the cord for?” His voice suddenly echoed in my ears. “So we can talk, silly. Now get on and hold tight.” I threw one leg over the huge bike to sit, leaning forward to put my arms round his waist. “Rose, you’ll need to hold tighter—otherwise you’ll fall off. Don’t be afraid.” I gritted my teeth.
“Who said I was afraid?” He answered with spontaneous laughter. I pushed closer to him and gripped on tightly. My heart fluttered away, dancing inside just to feel him next to me again. We set off, through the gates and down the lane. The speed was exhilarating and I let out a childish squeal as we raced along. I now understood why boys got so fixated on speed. Morgan was a careful rider, and I wasn’t worried or scared at all, even when we had to brake suddenly as slow cars impeded our journey. We drove slowly through town and Morgan gracefully steered the bike onto Jez’s street. It had been such a quick trip compared to Hannah’s moped, and much less painful. Jez welcomed us warmly again. As he guided us in, he checked outside before closing the door. He was on edge, fidgety, and looked drawn. Sleep riddled his eyes; he looked exhausted. I felt for his energy spark that no longer buzzed like any normal person. Its neutral hum was stagnant. Jez was glad to see Morgan. They shook hands and man-hugged again and Jez took us upstairs. Except for muffled sounds coming from Jez’s upstairs room, the rest of the house was silent. But a sudden giggle told me Lucie was here, along with Debbie. I climbed the stairs in trepidation, ready to meet again the girl who had ruined my hopes with Morgan. I would pretend not to care, and I drew in a breath before entering the room.
- CHAPTER ELEVEN -
“YOU’RE
OKAY!”
DEBBIE
JUMPED UP AND GAVE ME A QUICK, TIGHT HUG.
“We were so
concerned!” “I’m fine,” I grinned, and put my spare arm around her. My other hand was still holding my bag. Lucie remained silent. She offered a brief smile at me but her eyes lit up when Morgan followed me into the room. “You gave us a real fright. I thought you’d be in bed for days,” Debbie continued as she sat back on the bed. “No! Just sleep, that’s all I needed.” I put my bag down next to the bed in the only spare space available. “Hi, Morgan, how are you?” Lucie drawled, flicking her blond curls over her shoulder, gazing at him with doe eyes. If I had known she’d be here, I might not have come. Whatever was going on with Lucie and Morgan, I had no interest, but I was still wounded. As long as Lucie didn’t keep batting eyes at him or tossing her hair about as she was doing now, we would all get along fine. I was surprised how little interest Morgan showed her as he muttered a hi in return. I stared back at Lucie to judge her reaction, but she didn’t seem fazed by the rebuff. Jez’s room was messier than my last visit. He’d been busy with his investigation. A stack of printed sheets sat on his desk. Rolls of discarded paper lay across the floor and books and more books littered every spare surface. A pile by his desk on the floor towered as high as his chair. The wall now contained a map of the area with other reference points tacked. I sat on a spare chair next to the bed, thankfully away from Lucie. “So, what’s the latest?” Morgan said, still standing near the door. “What do we know?” “I’ve tracked the majority of the purchases made by the council in recent years and marked them,” he pointed to the map fixed with drawing pins. Red pen marks crossed the areas outskirting the town. “All of these have been bought by the council?” I got up and studied the map, amazed at the difference. The pins now counted at least forty, rather than the ten or twelve before. “All. I’ve gone back through newspapers and town records I could find online; the library’s database is also quite extensive. This is everything in the last ten years.” He plonked a thick wedge of sheets into the centre of the floor. “I don’t see any pattern,” Debbie pointed to the map. “Have you checked on deaths in the town? You know, like Agatha Millard’s house?” said Morgan. “It’s really difficult to get that information. Mostly the families sell after a death, if there’s no inheritance to contend with. The only way we could find it out is by checking the solicitors in town, or breaking into the council offices. Otherwise, it’s just guesswork.” “What are you thinking?” I asked Morgan. “Well, so far, we think that the council is buying these properties to rebuild or restore. But what if it’s something else? What if they’re looking for something?” “Like?” asked Lucie, as she discarded another folder on the floor. “Wait!” I cried. I grabbed a book from my bag and found the picture of the Warminster Jewel, holding it open for them all to see. “Something like this?” I said. “The Warminster Jewel. Why would they want that?” Debbie said, puzzled. “What’s the significance?”
“The Warminster Jewel is held in Salisbury Museum, along with the Alfred Shield. They’re exhibited behind two impenetrable sheets of glass. However, this is only the centre stone. There are three others that haven’t been found yet.” Four puzzled faces stared back at me. “I’m lost,” said Lucie. “What does our town councillor want with old jewellery?” “Jez can look it up on the Internet, but I think it’s what he’s after. He’s not just ripping people out of their homes, he’s excavating, digging to find these. And once he doesn’t find it? He covers up the evidence.” Jez tapped the computer keys, searching as I suggested. “Here’s something.” He scrolled down a page of mysterious artefacts; top of the list was the Holy Grail. “This page says that the jewels, if found, would be priceless. They have a curse attached, though. The curse dates back to King Alfred’s son, who, when he took the title of King of England after Alfred’s death, sought out a witch from Wessex to curse them. You see, the Warminster Jewel was created by his alchemist to prevent Alfred’s death, or to procure long life— one of the two. Either way, Edward, Alfred’s son, was too grieved at his father’s death and handed the cursed jewels to a local monastery to be buried in secret.” “Why would they bury them around here?” said Debbie. “Because this area in steeped in mysticism and the old pagan religions. When Alfred moved on after his battle, he didn’t return and instead left a small militia in case of further attacks. Nobody would suspect that the jewels would remain after his death, and the long barrows, tumuli, and stone circles in the area are more than a distraction to any grave robbers or tomb thieves.” “Something doesn’t add up. I thought it was the shield that would bring him long life. Like the one we saw before?” I said, pulling at another book and opening it to the picture. “Apparently, the shield was just a symbol of the jewels. They held the real power. The alchemist Alfred sought, the one who created the jewels, was also a master jeweller in his own right. That’s what his real specialty was,” said Jez. “This isn’t connecting anything to do with your father,” said Morgan. “Rose, how did you know about the jewels?” I thought quickly as I spoke; it all made sense now. “I’ve just put the pieces together myself. When I was at the Watch, I had an interesting chat with … some random person,” I thought I’d better not name names in present company. “He told me that the three stars on a black background was the emblem for the priory monks. The priory fell into ruin and Longleat House was built on top. Anyway, as the story goes, they lived a poor life and owned nothing. But as a gesture, an ancient king gave them a gift. He called it a ‘possession’ for them to keep safe should the time come. It has to be the jewels that he, possibly Alfred, gave to the monks. But what happened to them after the Order fell, no one has a clue.” “Maybe that’s what my dad found out. The three stars at Imber could be the three jewels, but we’re no nearer. We still don’t know where they could be hidden.” Jez threw a book down onto his desk in despair, and bowed his head in his hands. “Here,” said Debbie. Her lap held three books already but she was reading from a very old leather-bound volume. “This book has more information about the priory that the jewels were left with. The priory dates back to the 6th century. The priory was left in ruins when the monastic order was dissolved due to rumours of the monks practising witchcraft and black magic. It has to be our clue.” “So, there’s no priory any more? What about the ruins? Can we access them?” said Morgan. “No, it’s all completely gone.” “Well, that doesn’t help at all,” said Lucie.
“Ah, wait,” Debbie continued. “The priory did have a fish pond, which is still on the Longleat grounds. It’s called the ‘Monks Pool.’” “Monks practising black magic at Longleat, missing jewels, and the mural at Imber: now what’s the connection?” Jez said. “Morgan, why don’t you mark them on the map as well,” I suggested, handing Morgan some pens. He started marking new crosses. “Okay, so, Imber’s here. Longleat’s here. The battle of Edington’s here. Ah!” he exclaimed staring at the map. “What is it?” I said, and we stood and looked intently at the markings. The crosses Morgan had drawn had become a triangle. “You don’t think this is it, the Warminster triangle?” I said. “But its dimensions don’t add up. Look at the distance between each point.” Debbie pointed to the map. “Also it doesn’t tally with our other marks, the land and houses that Ben Deverill’s bought,” I pointed out. “These lines are wrong. It’s incomplete.” The previous crosses didn’t match. They were off, in different directions. “I thought the triangle was supposed to be from Warminster, Shaftesbury, and Salisbury?” Lucie said. “I thought it was Cley Hill, Bratton, and Scratchbury Hill,” Debbie added. “Wait,” I moved in to for a closer look. “They were all wrong.” “What do you mean?” said Jez. “Morgan, give me the pen.” I took it and marked a new point. Once the cross was on Stonehenge, the new triangle matched almost exactly with Jez’s and Morgan’s previous markings. “This is it,” I said, amazed at the discovery. “Jez, your dad realised that this was the triangle. That’s why he was at Arn Hill, before he disappeared. You have a clear view of all these areas except for Stonehenge in the distance. And if you match this with the ley lines of the area …” I marked a straight line from Cley Hill to Arn Hill and followed it to Stonehenge. It divided the triangle precisely in half. Debbie gasped “Wow!” Lucie said. “Your dad was onto something and Ben Deverill didn’t want it getting out,” I said to Jez. “We need to find him, and soon.” “Where are we going to look?” Jez asked. “The police still haven’t got any new leads. I don’t know where he could be.” His new optimism in our discovery was waning. “What about the Deverill house?” Debbie asked. “Yeah. But Ben Deverill wouldn’t be stupid enough to keep him there. It would be too obvious,” Morgan said. “So, where is it? Where do they live?” I said. “Aiden has his own place but Ben lives near Arn Hill; it’s two minutes from our house. I’ll mark it just in case it’s useful.” We exchanged a secret smile as I noticed that he said “our” instead of “Daisy’s” as I would’ve done. “Okay, what about any friends or colleagues? He’s somewhere nearby. Come on, think. You all know this town better than me.” “What about in town? There are enough old shops, inns and pubs with basements,” Lucie suggested. “What about abandoned buildings? Maybe some old army houses?” said Morgan. “That just gives us another list again. My uncle says that half the buildings on the base are empty,” said Debbie.
“Debbie’s uncle is the lieutenant colonel of the army based here,” Morgan informed me. “But Ben Deverill wouldn’t get that close. He tries to keep away from army matters,” said Debbie. I coughed at that comment. Nobody noticed except Morgan, who hid a smile. “What about Brokerswood? Don’t the Deverills have a chalet there?” Jez asked. “Isn’t that where you work?” I said to Morgan. He nodded. “Yes, at the timber mill. It’s a holiday park between Westbury and Warminster with nature trials, kiddie adventure parks, and the like. The chalets and permanent caravans would be ideal. But it’s teeming with tourists right now,” Morgan said. “Half the people at the event last night will be staying there. There aren’t many hotels in town, so it acts as an overflow,” said Jez. “But if it’s dark with not many people around, he could have been taken there,” I added. “I don’t know,” Morgan sighed. “I think we’re still clutching at straws.” My head ticked over to conversations of the morning and I stumbled on something Pritchard had said. “Wait,” I jumped up in surprise. “I’ve just remembered something. Daisy mentioned it this morning but I didn’t take it in. Henry Cole said he was kept ‘underground.’” “Underground?” Morgan said. “But what’s underneath Warminster? Sewers? Caves?” Debbie asked. She looked at Lucie and they both grimaced. “Is there a mine nearby? Jez, see if anything’s online,” I said, reading through the stack of book bindings to see if any could be helpful. Jez’s ringing phone made us all jump. “It’s Mira,” he announced. He picked up and left the room. “So what do we do? Tell the police? Ask them to check out Brokerswood? Or just concentrate on sewers?” said Debbie. “The police’ll just think we’re interfering. They won’t listen,” Lucie muttered. “Maybe, maybe not,” said Morgan. “It depends who approaches them.” He looked at me. “They’d listen to some people.” “What?” I asked. “They don’t know me from Adam. I could be anybody.” “But they know Daisy,” said Debbie, catching his train of thought. “No!” I gasped. “Daisy’s already warned Jez to stay out of this. If she knew I was involved, she’d kill me. No way, I’m not asking her.” “Maybe I could,” Morgan said. “No! You said before that this had to be secret from her. Now you want to ask her to approach the police with our theory? You’re mad, and she wouldn’t do it, anyway. Who’s to say they’re not checking it out right now?” “What if you’re wrong? What have we got to lose?” he sighed, an earnest stare on his face. “Jez’s father, maybe,” I said defensively. “But if it got out that we were involved, we could all be in danger. I won’t risk anything happening to Daisy, and you shouldn’t, either.” “He’s right, though,” said Lucie. “Daisy would be exactly the right person to do this.” “They would take her seriously,” Debbie added. “Oh, so you’re all insane now! No way! Daisy is not to be involved.” “Morgan, I think you should ask her,” said Lucie. I glared at her, and she looked down at her hands. “Lucie, just mind your own business, okay? And Morgan, if you do, I won’t forgive you for it,” I said, disgusted.
“Rose, don’t be like that. You said it yourself that we have Jez’s dad to lose in this,” Morgan said. “If Daisy is our one shot with the police then we should ask her.” “This is not the way.” I gritted my teeth and looked fiercely at him. “Rose, just⎯” The door opened, stopping Morgan in his words. Jez sat down again and faced us. “Mira has some interesting information, which corroborates what Rose just said,” he started. “Where is she?” I said, sitting back down. “She’s been with her father, doing some research at the Met Office in Bath. They have all sorts of archives, so she thought she’d check them out.” “So, what did she find?” Jez’s face brightened as he spoke. “Did you know that under Warminster, there’s a whole warren of subterranean tunnels?” “Really? No way,” we all said at the news. “Mira found maps drawn up in 1937, the year the army moved in. It appears that they got busy after their arrival, digging various tunnels under the town and refurbishing the old sewer system. They join together at intermittent intervals. She’s bringing copies for us to see.” “I’ll bet they’ll have been used in the war effort. Do you think that’s why the war ministry was so interested in buying the land around Imber and Salisbury Plain?” said Debbie, dumping some books onto the floor. “I’ll ask my uncle if he knows anything.” “Where do they start and finish?” Lucie asked. “It’s hard to say. They conjoin like the London Underground. Mira says that one of the tunnels is under your house, Rose.” I thought of the house tour Daisy had done upon my arrival. The door that was under the stairs was to remain locked at all times, she’d said, offering no further explanation to me at the time. “I know where it is,” I said, still thinking. “Daisy showed me, indirectly. I was going to ask her about it but I haven’t had the chance.” “And Morgan? It’s under your cottage as well,” Jez added. Morgan nodded and was silent; he stood with his arms across his chest, shuffling his feet slightly. “Thought so,” he muttered. “You knew about it?” I stared at Morgan. “Why didn’t you mention it earlier?” “I didn’t know for certain. I had a hunch. If it is a tunnel, it’s been blocked off. I didn’t know what the tunnel was used for. I use it as a basement, so it’s just full of junk.” “Really?” I can’t hide my sarcasm. “We weren’t looking for tunnels earlier, Rose. It wasn’t relevant,” he justified. “But did you think that there might be a clue or something?” “No, I didn’t. How would I come to that conclusion until now?” Morgan moved into the centre of the floor, his hands on his hips, anger colouring his cheeks. I was angrier. “When you moved into the cottage, you didn’t think to ask, ‘Oh, I’ve got a basement. How can that be on a brand new building?’ They don’t build basements anymore!” “I thought it was an old bunker! The area’s full of them. Why are you having a go at me?” “I’m getting at the fact that not only have you got a tunnel under the cottage that you didn’t feel was relevant earlier, but if you knew that one was under my house and it led somewhere else, it might lead to more tunnels and possibly some underground bunkers. Jez’s dad may be under there right now!” I said, my temper rising. “He could have been under there needlessly because you didn’t think it was relevant?” “Hey, it wasn’t relevant before because we’ve only started talking about it today. We’ve only come up with this today,” he gestured at the map. “A few moments ago we were all for the Brokerswood theory, and finding out what the jewels could mean. You didn’t jump at me then.”
I stopped, looked around the room. The others were looking uneasy and awkwardly at us. Morgan and I were the only ones standing, face to face in the centre of the floor. “Right, so how long have you known that Mr. Portway was missing?” I squared up to him again. “Since Daisy told me about Jez’s phone call.” “When did you phone Daisy, Jez?” I asked him quietly. “About five days ago,” Jez interrupted. “Rose, you can’t blame Morgan. None of us knew about the tunnels. It wouldn’t have entered my mind at all, even if we’d known.” Jez looked sheepishly at Morgan. Debbie and Lucie looked uncomfortable from their positions on the bed. “I need some air.” I abruptly left the room. Downstairs, I went through the back door to sit on the doorstep. My anger at Morgan was so profound at the moment. Logic dictated that it was an honest discovery, but I wasn’t in the frame of mind for logic. Had we known earlier about the tunnels, prior to Mira’s phone call, we could easily have latched onto the idea before. If I had recalled Daisy’s conversation earlier, we wouldn’t have wasted so much time. It wasn’t Morgan’s fault. It was mine. If I knew where the tunnels led, there might be a way to investigate. It was possible Mr. Portway was hidden underground. It seemed the only plausible explanation after Henry Cole had emerged from nowhere six months on. This town was too small to hide somebody without being seen. Someone somewhere would have talked, even if it was to Daisy. And if Daisy heard, in confidence, of someone else’s observations, I had no doubt that she would have acted immediately. After all, Mr. Portway and Daisy were friends. Wouldn’t she do all that was in her power to find him? My anger was subsiding, but it wasn’t Morgan’s fault. It had just taken a spark and I looked for an excuse to fight with him. I breathed in the dampness of the air. It was a cloudy day; rain would probably come later. Jez had a backyard rather than a garden. The patio area was decked with wood, a neat table and four chairs parked against it. Pots of shrubs grew in the corners and one sole jasmine grew against a high fence, its leaves cascading down like a waterfall. Tidy and neat, I thought, a bachelor pad garden to its end. “Rose, are you down here?” Morgan's searching voice trailed from the stairs. I inhaled again, calming my resolve. “I’m here,” I called. “Are you okay?” He stepped down and sat beside me. I didn’t answer. My glare at him was enough, for me, anyway. “We need to get into that tunnel,” I suggested. “I know. We’ve just been talking about it.” “Can we get through from yours?” “It’s all boarded up on one side and the other is bricked.” “But we could, if we tried.” “I think so, but⎯” “Wait,” I stopped him before he could carry on. I closed my eyes and using my gift, I manually searched the house for anyone nearby. It was all clear; the girls were still upstairs with Jez. “We must talk about that sometime. I’d really like to know more,” Morgan whispered. I kept my voice low enough for only him to hear. “Okay, sure, but listen. I’m not breaking in from Daisy’s house, before you say it again. There’s too many cameras, the army guys are everywhere, and it’s too risky. It has to be from yours.” Morgan breathed out roughly, nodding. “I was just going to say that this is dangerous territory. If we got found out, the consequences could be terrible. What if we find Ben’s men down there? He has more than just Aiden working for him. Five other bodyguards, and they’re guys you wouldn’t want to mess with. What do you think they’d do to us?”
“Which is why we need to get in from your place and Daisy mustn’t get involved. She has too much to lose. I don’t know what her relationship is with the Deverills but I can’t risk it if we get discovered. We’ll deal with it if or when it happens.” We sat in silence for a moment. Above our heads the sky became greyer with thick clouds. A flock of birds flew in a V-formation, away from a gathering wind. “Rose, why does this mean so much to you?” Morgan asked softly, running a finger down my folded arm. I jerked away. “My dad has been through everything with me. Through all of our house moves. Through school, he helped me with studying for my exams; he even taught me how to swim and ride a bike. I don’t know what I would have done without him.” “You were close, then.” “Yeah. Much closer than Amy was to him. I always thought it was because I was the youngest, that maybe he felt sorry for all the trouble his job caused.” “And now?” “I miss him so much. I know I might sound confident and seem strong, but I’m on my own now. He’s off in the Middle East; it’s dangerous, fraught with problems, even though he’s just a geologist. But I’m scared for him and I wish he were here. He’d know exactly what to do right now, and he wouldn’t hesitate to help.” My voice choked in my throat and I swallowed down tears that were on the verge of descending. I didn’t want to cry. Not in front of Morgan, especially now. “You’re not your father, you know. You don’t have any shoes to fill here. You don’t even have to get involved with this. It’s nothing to do with you.” “But it does. Part of me insists that something’s going to come out of this, and it will be ’cos I’m a Frost. I want to help Jez. I want to help him find his dad, especially after seeing Henry in the state that he was. But I just feel like I’m out of my depth somehow, and I don’t want to show it in front of Jez. He’s so down.” The tears were slipping, tears of how much I missed my family, tears of desperation for Jez. I couldn’t stop them, so I let them slide. I bowed my head, hoping my hair would hide my face, but Morgan noticed. His arm was around my shoulders in seconds and he pulled me closer. I rested my head on his shoulder. His other hand wiped my tears away, his fingers tender and sincere. “You know, my dad’s a pain in the backside.” I laughed, coughing as I did. “Really?” “Oh, yes. I had the worst few days of my life when my folks were home. Do you know how boring it is to listen to one’s own father going on and on about how great he is? I had to sit through race after race with a running commentary the entire time. I was so bored.” I sniggered at this; he did, too. “I don’t miss my parents at all now. I love being on my own, and living at Daisy’s house. I can do what I want when I want, with no one looking over my shoulder, saying, ‘When I was your age, I’d already won this trophy and that trophy. What are you doing with your life?’” “Do you think he’s disappointed in you?” “No, he’s too busy with himself and his driving to be disappointed.” “That’s sad.” “Not really. You don’t want what you’ve never had. Isn’t that what people say?” “Something like that.” “But I get it. If I were a dad who taught my daughter how to do all those things, I think I’d be very proud of her right now. And I bet I would be missing her, too.” “Thank you.”
His kindness was overwhelming. It was all I could do to stop myself from reaching for his hand, and it would have been so easy to entwine my fingers into his. Morgan made me feel normal again, almost comfortable with myself. He gave me strength in my moment of doubt. I didn’t even know where the doubt had come from. Motivation and determination were usually my strongest virtues. I had been so lost in finding Jez’s dad that I hadn’t realised how much I missed my own. But I hadn’t forgotten the hurt that still stabbed like a knife in my heart. I pulled away and stood, walking into the yard, staring at the ever-clouding sky. The greyness enveloped everything. The trees seemed duller; the light in the air appeared off colour. “We should get back,” I said. Morgan looked surprised as I walked back inside. He rose slowly, a little unsure. Confusion appeared across his brow but I kept my face pensive but unaffected. Back in Jez’s room, the others had already formulated a plan, of sorts. The idea was to break down the wooden tunnel wall and see what was on the other side. Our inventory would have to include torches, rope, chalk, a first-aid kit, a compass, and possibly a hammer of some sort, in case other barriers needed dismantling. “So, when are we going to do this?” I asked. “Tonight, if we can,” said Debbie. “Why wait?” “Okay, perfect,” Morgan added. “Rose and I will start. Once we get past the barrier walls, we may need the rest of you.” “What if Daisy checks up on me, later on?” I said. “You could just say that you were out with me or sleeping on my very comfy sofa,” Morgan said lightly. He smiled but it didn’t reach his eyes. Lucie turned away. “Okay, Debbie, Lucie, Jez. Head over to Morgan’s about six, and we’ll pretend we’re having a game night or watching TV. Bring a takeaway pizza. Then you can sit tight, just in case we need you,” I said. “Bring your phone, and dress for the cold. Ring Mira and see if she can come too. If she knows the maps well enough, she’ll be able to guide us through the tunnels easier.” “Sure, I’ll get your gear ready,” Jez stressed. “When I get the map from Mira, I’ll grid reference it so you can see where you’re headed. Debbie, you get a rucksack so they can take everything they need.” “Cool. We’ll find your dad,” said Morgan. He placed a hand on Jez’s shoulder to reassure him. Jez nodded. “If anyone else asks where you are, you’ll be taking a walk,” said Debbie. “Good. Or if it gets difficult, just say I had a headache,” I said calmly. “Except for Daisy. Tell her what Morgan said.” “Okay, Jez, we’d better go. I need to find some warm clothes and stuff. I’ll phone later before I pick up Lucie. We’ll just double-check everything,” Debbie said, squeezing Jez tightly. Lucie did the same, and gave Morgan a sickly sweet goodbye kiss on his cheek. He looked surprised but didn’t comment after. It was just the three of us left. “You okay, Jez?” I asked. “I’m all right, a bit more hopeful, you know? I just want my dad back,” he sighed. A weary frown furrowed his eyebrows. “I know. And we’ll find him. If this doesn’t work, we’ll think of something else. You’re not on your own anymore.” I squeezed his hand. “And you need to get some sleep.” “I know. Thanks, I appreciate it. You know, despite what people say, you’re all right!” His teasing smile lit up his face. I hadn’t seen such a smile before on him. “Really! Well, you’d hate to see me when I’m nice. Wonder what they’d say about that!” “Oh, scary, I reckon. Thanks, both of you.”
“No problem, mate, any time. We’d better get ready. I think we missed lunch and I could do with a coffee. Will you be all right?” said Morgan. “I’ll be fine, you go. I’m going to wait for Mira to bring the maps. If I find anything else, I’ll let you know.” “Cool, see you later,” Morgan shook his hand. I suddenly had a thought. “I just want to speak to Jez about something. I’ll see you downstairs,” I said to Morgan. “Sure,” he shrugged, and left. His tread on the stairs was barely audible but I waited until I knew he was at the bottom. I leaned over the computer desk. Jez looked at me curiously. “What is it?” “Do you know of a small tower, like a castle turret near here?” I said quietly. “Yes, it’s called King Alfred’s Tower. Do you think it’s connected?” he said. “I’m not sure. Where is it located?” “Hang on, let’s check.” He queried a search engine and brought up a local satellite map. “It’s not far from where the party will be held. Look, here’s the party area at Cley Hill. And here’s the tower just west of the venue, about two miles between them.” He pointed to the locations on the monitor. I focused on the screen, scanning the area, judging for obstacles. Fields and trees were all that separated the two sites but a small, curvy lane showed me the quickest way to get there. I could run it in a few minutes easily. I only hoped my fellow shadows would forgive me if I didn’t tell them my plan. “Can you find a picture of the tower?” I asked. “Yep, just let me … here,” he said, after another search. I froze in horror. The tall, square, red-bricked building was like an old church tower with one rooftop spire thrust high into the sky. The four walls bore stone chiselled hollows adorned with stone statues of King Alfred. It was identical to the one in my dream. The dream where Aiden tried to kill me. The dream that Morgan woke me from. I gulped. Jez was looking at me peculiarly, but I was thankful he didn’t ask any more questions. “Actually, Rose, while I’ve got you to myself, I wanted to show you this.” He reached under a huge stack of papers and pulled out an old photograph. “I thought I’d give it to you when you were on your own. I found it in some of Dad’s things.” “Thanks,” I said. I stared at the yellowing picture. The back of the photograph read “1967 Meeting of Two Houses.” The figures stood in two lines: the top line was all men, the bottom all women, sixteen people in all. The smiling faces told me that it had been an impromptu photo. The turtlenecks and flared trousers screamed of the sixties, and I began to study the faces. There were none I recognised. “Who are these people?” Jez leaned over and our heads almost touched. “That’s Daisy,” he pointed. “No!” I cried. The quirky lady wore a pink crocheted dress and held a white handbag. She was very pretty, and her hair was bobbed in a fetching style, fetching for that era, anyway. “And that’s Ben Deverill,” he pointed to a man in the centre of the back row. The man was frowning, his long, thick hair falling down over his shoulders. “Then that’s Agatha Millard, my dad is next, Maggie Dunbar and her husband, Leo Bartholomew, Stanley Arthur (Lucie’s grandfather), Bill McCaw⎯” “Morgan’s grandfather?” “Yep, and Henry Cole⎯” “Old Mad Cole?” “Yes, and Paul Pemberton, Charlotte Mandel, Regina Stoy, and I don’t know the other ones.”
I stared into their mostly happy and smiling faces. Except a much younger Ben Deverill, who looked fierce. I was remembering the names Jez had just spoken when a cold shiver shot down my spine. “Jez, you know that half of these people are either missing or⎯” “Dead? Yeah, I know. That’s why I didn’t want to show it in front of the others,” he gave a forlorn smile. “I can see why. They’d freak! Plus this means the others⎯” “They’re all in danger, too, I know. It’s no coincidence that he’s picking these people.” I paused, fixated on the picture. “I’ll have a look around Daisy’s and see if I can find anything else out. Thanks.” “I knew I could trust you, Rose.” I recalled a name he had said and pointed to the face in the photo. “This Paul Pemberton—is he related to the chief super? Is he still around here?” Jez frowned. “He’s Mark’s older brother and lives in Heytesbury; it’s a village south of Warminster. I don’t think he’s been out in years. A bit of a recluse from what I hear.” “But you know where he lives? I’d like to find him but I don’t want the others to know, you know?” I said. “Sure, no problem, I can take you. Just tell me when you want to go,” he smiled and squeezed my arm. “Thanks, and thanks for the photo. We’ll see you later. Try and get some sleep. You might need it.” “Sure thing.” I squeezed his shoulder affectionately and rushed down to the waiting Morgan.
- CHAPTER TWELVE MORGAN WAS SITTING ON JEZ’S LOW GARDEN WALL, the light wind gently blowing his hair away from his face. He pushed his fingers through it, settling it into place, as I approached cautiously, my face pensive. He smiled timidly. In his hand was the second motorbike helmet. He handed it over. “Do you want to get a coffee or something? I’m buying,” he said. His troubled eyes twinkled. I couldn’t bear the awkwardness any longer. I couldn’t avoid him anymore, either, and ignoring him was plain unfair; he didn’t deserve that. I was itching to get back to the house to study the photo but Morgan and I needed to talk, if only to clear the air. I checked my watch and gawked; it was midafternoon already. “Sure,” I said. “Where are we going?” “A small place I know,” he gave me a meaningful look, as I got on the bike and tentatively clasped my arms around his waist. He took me to a pub on one of the back lanes out of town called The Black Dog Inn. It struck a chord as Barry had talked about the synonymous name before, but the sign depicted a generic dog painting in the yard of an old coach house, no Halíka Dacomé present. We pulled in and parked near the main entrance, in the area reserved for motorbikes. “Are we allowed in here?” I said, slightly unsure as I got off the bike. “Why not? We’re not drinking alcohol. Just having a coffee. Besides, I know the owner,” he grinned. “Hmm, I hear that a lot,” I muttered as Morgan stifled a laugh. “Round the back is the beer garden. You go and sit. What do you want to drink?” “Just a milky coffee, thanks.” “Okay, I’ll be back in a minute,” and he disappeared inside. The back garden was tranquil. Just empty tables and benches. I sat and gazed at the greenness, listening with keen ears. At the garden’s edge, a small stream tinkled and bubbled away southward down into the valley. The quietness of the gentle stream, of the garden in general, was relieving. I relished these moments of being on my own. I tipped my head to feel the fresh air breeze across my face, brushing against my skin, my previous tension lessening. My muscles relaxed as I inhaled a full breath of clean, pure air. Guilt of neglecting my family hung with me for a second and I thought back to the talk with Morgan in Jez’s backyard. I did miss my family immensely, but life had been so busy since arriving at Daisy’s. I reached for the mobile phone in my bag to try Amy’s number. Still no answer. I left another message on voicemail, insisting that she call me. I thought about trying my parents, but Mum would freak if she knew I was calling from the mobile. Instead, I sent a text to Pritchard about my whereabouts—he probably knew already—and put the phone back in my bag, dumping it on the floor. Morgan arrived with our drinks and sat on the opposite bench. “Jez is such a bad host; he didn’t even put the kettle on,” Morgan joked, and unzipped his jacket laying it across the bench. He was trying to clear the air. I had to give him credit for that. It seemed he didn’t want to have any bad feelings between us, either. “You have legs. You could’ve done it,” I joked back, a half-smile across my lips. “So, I hear you livened up the alien event, Henry Cole notwithstanding,” he smirked, resting his elbows on the table and sipping slowly from his coffee cup. “Well, it would have been dull otherwise. Besides, Hannah and Mira needed a diversion. I can tell their boredom threshold is pretty low.”
“I’m sure they did! They go every year, mostly to heckle from the back.” “Yeah. Mira thought it was completely hilarious.” “That sounds like her. That girl could be happy in a snowstorm.” I laughed. “How long have you known them, Hannah and Mira, I mean?” I said, leaning closer. “I think since we were at primary school. Around six years old, I think. When we were in the classroom, they used to talk about you all the time. At the start of term, the teacher would ask us to draw pictures of our favourite holiday memory and they would always draw you with bright green eyes.” “No, really?” “Yep. It was always ‘Rose said this,’ and ‘Rose did that.’ I’m sure the teachers half-thought they’d made up an imaginary friend, but were both imagining her.” “Wow, I had no idea.” I suddenly felt a little guilty. I hadn’t thought of them much in that way ever. Morgan relaxed as he leaned closer. His movements were more fluid, as if he’d forgotten our earlier spat. “‘The girl with the green eyes.’ That’s what we all called you. Not Rose. That was too personal. They got a lot of stick for it from the other kids. But they stuck together and after every holiday from then on I would ask, ‘What did the girl with the green eyes do this summer?’” “You did?” “Of course. I’d do anything to wind up Mira, with her bunched hair and funny teeth.” “You’re so mean!” I said. He chuckled. “She used to get her own back and call me freckle face.” “But she used to have freckles, too.” “Yeah, but her teeth were funnier.” I smiled and drank again, feeling content. “So, I guess you could say, from that respect, I really have known you all my life. The girl with the green eyes,” he snickered, his grin mischievous as he crossed his arms across his chest. “Ah, but I stopped holidaying here when I was ten.” He frowned. “Why did you stop coming?” “I never knew the reason. I think Daisy and my parents had an argument over something.” “I’ll let you into another secret.” He sat straighter, then rested his chin on his closed fists. “What?” “Since I was tiny, knee-high to a tadpole, my family used to visit Daisy. Sunday afternoons, or maybe the odd midweek night. My parents had known her for years so we visited her a lot. I think they felt sorry for her, with no family living in the neighbourhood.” “And?” “I used to ask her to see photographs of you, when I was younger, you know, to see what you looked like.” He beamed, as if finally giving away a secret hidden for years. “Why?” “Because I thought you were pretty. As I got older, you got prettier.” I snorted and looked down at the table, self-conscious again. “I should be shocked, or revolted, shouldn’t I? That’s not normal behaviour.” “I know, but I was a curious youngster, and Daisy was only too glad to show you off. She used to tell me how well you were doing at school, and where you had moved next, the letters you wrote to her at Christmas thanking her for presents. Things like that.” “Okay, now that’s almost like stalking, isn’t it?”
He laughed again. “Almost, but I got over it. By the time I was thirteen, my hormones kicked in and I was a full-time emotional time bomb. I suffered with the usual early teen stuff—spots, girls, naked women in magazines.” “So I got dumped for the naked women?” “Yeah, sorry!” he laughed. “Thank God we grow out of it. Well, almost grow out of it.” Morgan was unburdening himself, sharing his childhood stories, and I wanted to reach for his hand and squeeze it as he spoke, but I held back. I tried to stay with the conversation but I was being taken under his mesmerising thrall again. Snap out of it, I screamed in my head. He belongs to Lucie now. I abruptly came back to the conversation. “Yeah, sixteen is still adolescent and childish, I guess.” “Except I’m a year older than you. I’ll be eighteen at the beginning of September.” “I must seem such a kid in your presence. Those years make so much difference,” I said. He laughed. “No, actually you act a lot older, that’s for sure. Although you’re a little off-centre at the moment, but that’s understandable.” “Off-centre?” “You still feel out of place, maybe a little lost sometimes. I think you’ve settled in well. Everyone thinks the world of you already, by the way. You’ve definitely made an impression.” We sat thoughtfully for a second, and I couldn’t help but ask. I realised I needed his approval, just a small morsel to tell me that he liked me, even just a little bit. “What’s your impression of me?” He sat back on the bench, withdrawing his hands to his lap, while his eyes contemplated my face, his lips parted for a moment as he considered my question. “I think that you’re very strong, in your character as well as emotionally. That’s rare in someone your age,” he winked as he said the last part. I smiled. “I think you have a way with people. Your kindness shows in everything you do. You’re thoughtful, understanding. You like to organise and take charge but you want to involve everyone so that nobody feels left out. You very rarely show your true feelings, maybe once with me, but you feel ashamed if you do. Almost like a guard that you keep up for everyone else’s benefit.” “And you got all this from …” “I observe. I listen to others without judgment. I see you when you don’t think you’re being seen.” He looked intently into my eyes. His assumptions had nearly all been correct; it was unnerving how he knew so much. “Anything else?” I said softly, scanning the tabletop. “Not really, because now you’ve put your guard up again.” He reached for my hand and drew it across the table, stroking it softly with his thumb. “Don’t. You don’t need to with me.” “I can’t help it,” I laughed nervously, savouring his hand on mine. “It’s an instant reaction. Sorry. I’m not used to being so open. People want me to trust them, but how can I? I don’t really know anyone, not even Mira and Hannah. I’ve spent days with them, and time with other people, but that doesn’t mean I trust everyone yet. I find it hard sometimes, that’s all.” “I know. The others have noticed, too, but we’re giving you time to settle. You don’t like to talk about yourself much. We all respect it. We know you’ve had a mixed-up life. But don’t ever be afraid to talk to me. I’ll always be here for you, no matter what.” “Why would you do that? You said that you knew me from old, but I’m not that person. You never really knew who I was,” I said. “I knew you had a kind, beautiful face and the bravest heart I’ve ever known. That’s all I needed to know.” I blushed and pulled my hand away from his grasp. Whatever words I’d wanted to say were stuck in my throat.
Now was my time to ask. There had never really been the opportunity until now, while he was relaxed, and looking happy. I hated to spoil the mood, but I needed to know. “Morgan, will you tell me about your family? You know so much about me. I know little about you,” I said quietly. He sat for a moment and stared at the back of his hands. “You want to know about Aiden, too?” I nodded, and leaned forward to take back one hand, slipping my fingers in between his. I squeezed a reassurance. “Okay, if you must know, Aiden’s my cousin,” his eyes flashed sadly. I hoped he hadn’t noticed that I had stopped breathing momentarily. I had no idea—nobody had mentioned it, and the connection hadn’t been made, on any level. “I grew up with my parents and sister, Sophia, and younger sister Amelia. Aiden grew up with his own parents. His mother and my mother were sisters. They were close and would spend a lot of time together, afternoons after school and the like. Aiden and I had to play together. His family was poor, and my parents were rich, from my dad’s side. “Anyway, he was taller than me and always a bully. He used to punch and kick me whenever we were alone, call me names, that sort of thing. We never really played. Aiden spoiled anything we did. Playing in a sand pit would mean that I would wear the sand after having it thrown in my eyes and shoved down my shorts. If we went near a stream, he would push me in. My mother would be furious and blame me, but I always blamed Aiden. It would always fall on deaf ears. “The real trouble started when Aiden’s dad, Mick, got laid off from the local engineers. His dad got depressed. He drank a lot and became violent, especially to his wife, but also to Aiden, who would always have bruise marks across his face when he visited. “I thought that Aiden would change, become a nicer playmate, but he didn’t. I remember trying to talk to him about why his dad beat him and Aiden flew into a rage. He punched Sophia in the face, broke her nose, and kicked my dog. When I checked on Alfie later, his leg was broken so severely he had to be put down. I was beyond anger. That’s when we had our first proper fight.” “How old were you then?” I said. “About eleven. The fight was at school and we were both sent home after and suspended for the week. He never showed any remorse … certainly never asked about the dog.” “When Aiden was twelve, his father committed suicide. He put a hose in the exhaust of his car and sat with the window up. He gassed himself. Aiden found the body and the police ruled it a suicide. What Aiden didn’t know at the time was that his mother was five months pregnant, and the father of the child was my dad. I don’t know the whys and wherefores of it all. Dad said that Melissa, Aiden’s mum, got lonely and things just happened. To say that my own mother was devastated is the biggest understatement I can make. She was distraught, and fought with my dad constantly. Thank goodness I had Sophia and Amelia. We used to sit in Sophia’s room and cuddle each other when they argued. Amelia used to cry and I was frightened they would split up. My mum hardly spoke to Melissa again. “The last time I saw Melissa, she visited the house with Aiden. He was in a highly aggressive mood. Sophia hid upstairs. She didn’t want to see him, and he sat on one of the garden swings watching me and Amelia playing kiddie football. Amelia was only three, so she fell over most of the time but she was a good kid, and I loved her.” “So what happened?” I asked tentatively, knowing this wasn’t going to end well. He sighed deeply. A strain of hurt shadowed across his face. “Well, somehow the ball ended up over the hedge, so I ran around to get it. I heard a scream and when I came back, Amelia was lying on her back on the ground. Apparently, Amelia had asked him to play and he’d shoved her backwards so hard she’d fallen and cracked her head on the concrete of the patio. She died instantly, they told us afterwards.” His eyes were filling with tears and I squeezed his hand again.
“She was so little, so beautiful. How could anyone do that to a kid?” he murmured and shielded his face from the falling tears. I didn’t speak. Anything I could’ve said would sound useless. “What happened to them?” “Melissa was found drowned in the river near their old home. There was no sign of any harm to her. She hadn’t been killed. She just couldn’t take life anymore, couldn’t bear the shame of having Aiden as a son. Money had run out when Mick topped himself and she couldn’t bring herself to ask my parents for help.” “What about Aiden?” “Aiden was sent to a juvenile prison, or young offenders prison, whatever they call them now. He was there for two years and when he came out, he moved in with Ben. There was no way my folks would let him live with us permanently. At Melissa’s funeral, Ben Deverill introduced himself. He was Mick’s father and promised to care for Aiden when he was released. They moved into a house closer to town so that Aiden could continue his schooling.” “How did you feel when he came back?” There was more, I could tell. “I hated him. I still do. He did two years and took away my little sister for life. How is that right? We don’t cross paths, at least if we can help it. Since Aiden’s lived with Ben, he’s changed. He’s a lot more reserved. He still does bad things but usually follows his grandfather’s orders. Now that Ben Deverill is so high up in the council, nobody really questions Aiden anymore. I just hope one day he’ll get what’s coming to him. What goes around, comes around, you know?” Chilling tingles spread out across my skin as he finished. “I’m not surprised you hate him so much.” “You can’t change history, even if he served his sentence and denounced his previous ways. There’s things I will never forgive him for.” Morgan sat back in his chair, looking thoughtful. “My sister’s life is just number one of a very long list.” No one could ever say that Aiden’s past actions were comprehendible or acceptable but the Aiden I met on our brief encounters hadn’t had a tainted attitude or hallmarks of a troubled soul. If anything, Aiden had almost appeared … lonely? Was that the right word? I felt a loyalty to Morgan, and it would certainly affect my opinion of Aiden Deverill from now on. “Morgan, I’m so sorry. I had no idea, but you understand why I had to ask?” I rubbed his hand in mine. “I do. I’d planned to tell you sometime, but things just keep getting in the way.” He sipped his drink again and I put my hands in my lap. The garden river sang its song over the lime rocks and pebbles. The car park had emptied of cars and bikes and we were completely alone in this peaceful Eden. “I have to ask something else. Will you tell me about you and Lucie?” I whispered, looking at my glass intently. “Me and Lucie? What do you mean?” he said. My throat went dry. “Lucie said at the picnic that … well, she implied that you and she⎯” I couldn’t finish. The words just wouldn’t come out and I frowned again. “She implied what? What’s she been saying?” he spoke angrily, placing his hands firmly on the table. “On the night that you rescued me from my dream, you were out earlier?” He nodded. “She basically said, on that night, you and she … were … that you almost slept together,” I finally said. I felt heat rise in my cheeks at even talking to him about it. His reaction surprised me. His hands balled into fists as anger spread across his face and his jaw clenched. “She said what? I’m going to kill her. How dare she say such rubbish!”
He leapt up from the bench and stood a few steps away, his back to me. His moved his hands to his head. He spun around. “That’s why you’ve been so mad at me?” he said, choking the words. I nodded. “Oh, Rose, it’s not what you think. I didn’t! I wouldn’t! She said that?” He sat down again. I spoke softly, dread in my voice. “Don’t be mad at me, Morgan. I wasn’t to know that you were together. It’s none of my business. I shouldn’t have⎯” I shook my head and stared at the table, blinking my humility away. He walked to me and kneeled, and cupped my hand before placing his other on top, my fingers held firmly within. He looked adoringly into my face. “Rose, nothing she said is true, believe me, please. I know she likes me. She’s had a crush on me for years, but I don’t like her and I don’t think of her that way. I never have.” “So why would she lie? You apparently went to her house straight after work and didn’t leave until the early morning,” my puckered face eyed him cautiously. I felt regret and anguish as I spoke. “I did go over but only because she called saying she was home alone. She mentioned some prank calls that had scared her so she asked if I would come over,” he said, anger still in his voice. “I sat on her sofa watching TV all night.” I choked. “Then it’s not true?” “No! It’s not. You thought that Lucie and I⎯oh, God, Rose. No way!” He jumped up and sat beside me, his firm arms around me in seconds, cradling me close. He smelt so good, his soft rugby shirt brushing against my cheek like silk. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier? I could’ve put us both out of our misery.” His warm cheek skimmed mine as he spoke. “Like I said, you have to earn trust, Morgan,” I whispered. “I still don’t know how much I can trust you.” He tilted my head back in his hands, and gazed into my eyes. “Hear what I say, Rose, you can always trust me. I will never ever hurt you,” his pleaded. I could feel the imaginary knife withdraw and the wound close as I held him again. My arms finally tightened around his chest, submission to my belief in him. “Do you think I could really spend the night with another girl and then come to your room and hold you like I did?” “I hoped not,” I whispered as tears welled in my eyes. “What happened in your room was so unbelievable for me, I was in a daze. I felt like I was in the most fantastic dream for the rest of the day. I couldn’t stop thinking about you. That you had held me, and touched me the way you did. I know it sounds crazy, but I feel like I’ve been waiting for you my entire life,” he laughed softly in my ear. I drew my head back to see him. His eyes shone, his lips slightly parted. I could feel his wonderful breath on my cheek. I smiled, and my hands cupped each side of his head as I pulled him towards me to kiss his soft, beautiful lips. “Oh, Rose,” he moaned and kissed me so fiercely, I stopped breathing for a moment. His lips moved softly across my face, his breathing more rapid now. I felt dizzy as I returned his deep, passionate kisses. He reached a hand behind, across the middle of my back and pulled me in tightly to him, his hot, enchanting body joined to mine as if nothing could separate or part us again. His sudden jerk backwards stopped me. “Rose,” he whispered, “we have to stop.” “No,” I replied. “I don’t want to.”
“I know, I don’t either, but we must. You don’t have control yet.” He nodded, his eyes wide in wonder, his pupils dilated with his passionate fire. “Control?” I said. “Control of your gift. If you get too carried away, your gift could hurt me. Kill me, even.” I jumped away as if stung, and the hurt showed in his expression. “Oh, God, I’m sorry. I didn’t think,” I uttered. “I know. It’s okay. We can still do this but you have to be careful,” and he cradled me again and bent his head to kiss me. “Wait,” I pushed his arms away, and moved backwards along the bench. I closed my eyes and felt down inside to the well that held my gift. It was still there, unmoved, unaltered, buried deep. “You’re in luck. It hasn’t moved. You’re safe,” I giggled. “That’s a really good sign!” He drew me close again, crushing my lips against his in delight. My fingers combed through his hair as I held his head close, unyielding and immovable as I kissed his cheekbones and his jaw. “Rose,” he whispered in blissful excitement, “don’t ever let us be angry with each other again.” I held him then, tightly as he put his head on my shoulder, his lips soft against my ear. To feel him in my arms again, this rich moment of sheer pleasure, was all I wanted. I finally felt complete. There was nothing that could part us now. We sat whispering for a while, laughing familiarly, and enjoying our close union when Morgan’s phone rang. He groaned and reached for his jacket pocket, one arm still around my waist. “Hello? Hi, Jez. You’re joking—is she okay? Okay, mate, we’ll be right there.” I could tell from his tone that something terrible had happened. “What’s happened? Is it Daisy?” I said, fear in my throat. “No, it’s Mira. She’s been in a bike accident. They’re taking her to the hospital right now.” “Mira! Oh, no!” I cried and grabbed my bag. Morgan was more collected than I was. “Go wait by the bike. I’ll just go and pay. Don’t worry, I’m sure she’ll be fine,” he said as he darted inside. Jez was waiting for us at the hospital entrance. We sprinted to him as quickly as we could from across the full car park. “What happened?” Morgan asked, catching his breath. “We’re not sure. None of us can see her yet,” Jez replied, his eyes sorrowful. “What about her parents?” I asked. “They’re here already. She’s being examined; we don’t know how bad it is.” We walked through the double doors, past the registrar’s office. The stark white walls of the corridor seemed never-ending, and luminosity filled every crevice from the bright halogen lights. We turned down another corridor, then more until we arrived at her room. Two chairs sat outside. Hannah, and Mira’s brother Jason were already there standing next to the one filled chair. I recognised Mr. Butler, Mira’s dad; he looked haggard and distressed as he sat quietly, his head down. The hospital sounds echoed around the hallway, though nobody was talking. Mr. Butler sat so still, his feet together, a cardboard filing box on his lap. I knelt down in front of him so he could see me clearly. “Mr. Butler?” I whispered. “Do you remember me?” He looked up and a faint smile brushed his face. “Of course I remember you, Rose. You were only a tiny thing when I saw you last.” He motioned his hand half a metre high from the ground and I laughed. “Can you tell me what happened?” I said gently. “She wanted to do some errands after we finished at the office. I left in the car, and she took her moped. It’s an hour’s drive for her so I got home sooner. I was already there when the police called.” He looked down again, as if he’d forgotten what he’d said.
“Do you know how it happened? How is she?” “I don’t know. Her mother is in there with her now. We’ll find out soon enough.” He dazed out again and looked at the box. “She wanted me to give you this, said it would be useful.” I turned quickly, seeing Jez and Morgan over my shoulder, then took the box from Mr. Butler’s shaking hands. I passed it to Morgan, who put it under his arm. I grasped Mr. Butler’s hands in mine and kissed his knuckles. “Thank you, Mr. Butler. I’m sure Miranda will be fine.” He smiled as I used Mira’s full name. I let go of his hands to stand and face the boys. “We’ve got it,” I whispered and they nodded. It should have been something to cheer about but now wasn’t the time. The door to Mira’s room opened and Mrs. Butler stood in the doorway. “Rose, she’d like to talk to you,” she said bluntly and sat next to Mr. Butler, telling him that Mira would be fine and make a full recovery. “Okay,” I offered, and shut the door behind me. I was shocked at what I saw. Mira had a bandage around her forehead, a neck brace holding her head still, one arm in a sling, and a few grazes across her cheek. The blood had turned dark red but the skin was still visibly torn up. Beside her, the saline drip slowly pushed salt water into her bloodstream, and the bedside cabinet already had a bottle of juice. “Mira, you’ve been here two minutes and you’ve already finished half the Robinson’s,” I chuckled and lifted up the bottle so she could see. She laughed, and then winced. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you.” I sat on the chair drawn up to the bed. “Rose, I have to tell you something,” she croaked, and winced again, as if talking and movement was painful. “Take your time,” I insisted. “There’s no rush.” “No, listen. The car that hit me was Aiden Deverill’s red convertible. I thought you should know.” “Tell me what happened.” “I was already in Warminster, almost home. The car overtook me on the main road near the private school, and then it turned left onto a side road. I waved, thinking it was Aiden. It must have double-backed onto another road because at the next junction, he ran straight into me. He didn’t even attempt to stop.” I had no words. I stared at her, bewildered. What she was saying was unbelievable. How could Aiden possibly do this? Except, after Morgan’s story, it made it all the more possible. But why Mira? Why would Aiden want to hurt her? “Mira, do you think someone knew what you were taking away for us?” “I don’t think so. There was nobody else in the office. Dad wouldn’t tell anyone, and I was the only one who used the photocopier all day. Do you think it was because of the maps and plans?” I looked down into my own lap. She should never have brought the plans away with her. “I’m so sorry, Mira. This is my entire fault!” I quelled the tears burning my eyes. Mira didn’t need to see that. “What has the doc said, about your injuries?” “That I’ll be fine in a couple of days. Luckily my bike took most of the impact, and even luckier, my helmet saved my life. I have a dislocated shoulder but that’s about it. Rose, it’s not your fault. Please don’t blame yourself,” she attempted a smile at me but the graze on her cheek must’ve smarted at the movement.
“I’ll come and see you tomorrow, okay?” I leaned down and kissed her cheek. She smelled as though her body was fairly drugged up, so I brushed my fingers gently over the wound on her cheek and saw it disappear, the resulting skin perfect. It was all I could do for her and she didn’t seem to notice. “I’ll let your dad and Jason in. They’re dying to see you. Be well.” “Thanks, Rose,” she smiled weakly. I blew a kiss at her and motioned for Jason and Mr. Butler to enter as I left the room. I made it to the car park before I screamed with rage and stamped my feet. The car park was almost empty, but a few passersby gaped at my outburst before continuing on their way. My skin felt prickly. I could feel my blood heating up as I grew angrier and soon I was brimming over with it. I was fury, I was rage, and I yelled again into the sky and only stopped when I felt Morgan’s arms holding me still, like an anchor. He didn’t need to say anything, but he let me get it out of my system. I twisted round out of his grasp as Hannah and Jez ran towards us, both with worried expressions. “Rose, what did she say?” Hannah cried out. “Someone knew. Somehow, someone knew what she was bringing home. We have a spy, and I want to find out who it is,” I barked back at them. “The car that hit her was Aiden’s.” I paced around again as thoughts and possibilities crowded my head. “It’s got to be Lucie,” Jez suggested. “She was there this afternoon. She heard everything.” “But didn’t Debbie say that her father had a meeting with Ben? She mentioned it at the picnic,” Hannah offered. “But Debbie wouldn’t do that.” “It doesn’t make sense. Who would do that to Mira? She has no enemies. She’s one of the nicest people I know,” I proclaimed. “The only people I trust here is you three, and Mira.” “So what do we do?” Jez asked. “We carry on, but one of you must tell Debbie and Lucie that it’s off. If either of them is spying on us, I don’t want them anywhere near us tonight.” Morgan put an arm around my shoulder. This time I didn’t shake it off. “I’ll do it. They’ll listen to me.” He kissed my head gently. Jez and Hannah didn’t seem surprised by his sudden show of affection. “Okay, where’s the box?” Jez produced the square cardboard container from his inner jacket. “It’s here. I need to grid reference the maps first before I bring it over.” “No, there’s no time. We all go straight to Morgan’s,” I insisted. “But we still need supplies—the torches and stuff?” “Okay, give me the box. You go home. Don’t stay longer than ten minutes, and go straight to Morgan’s after. Don’t stop anywhere on the way.” “Okay, Hannah. You coming with?” Hannah reached for me and drew me into a tight hug. “It’ll be okay, Rose. You’ll see. Mira will be fine and we’ll sort the other stuff out.” I nodded. She was right. While I was in Hannah’s enormous embrace, a car drove by slowly. Pritchard and Archer were inside, dressed as civilians. One of them held a thumb up in question. I did the same in return. They drove on without stopping. “Let’s go,” Morgan ordered and we all separated. Hannah and Jez went to their car, and Morgan dragged me by the hand to the bike. My body still shook in fury, and my hands were clumsy as I put on the helmet and climbed onto the bike. We cruised back to Daisy’s, this time passing the entrance and tucking into the side lane around the corner directly onto Morgan’s driveway. I was pacing again inside his cottage. Morgan had quietly put the kettle on and was now making tea as I scratched my fingers through my hair again and again.
I stamped my foot again and cursed. The rage was still burning inside me. I couldn’t bear it. To think that someone had intentionally tried to hurt one of my friends made me so angry, I felt like a rabid horse, chomping and chomping on the bit. It took most of Morgan’s effort to try to drag me to the sofa and settle me down. Once I took a sip of tea, I felt calmer, the realisation finally sinking in that what was done couldn’t be undone. There was nothing in my power that could change anything. The next time I saw Aiden Deverill, though, he would have hell to pay for what he’d done, and I only hoped the time would be soon.
- CHAPTER THIRTEEN IT WAS DARK OUTSIDE WHEN HANNAH ARRIVED, Jez in tow, laden with other bags, rucksacks, coats, and the box we had been so keen to see the contents of. Hannah carried a takeaway pizza box as per our initial plan. Hopefully it would fool whoever was watching outside the houses. Morgan cleared away room in order for us to fit around his table. Hannah perched on the sofa arm and Jez unfolded a large map on the floor, showing the underground tunnels of the town. He’d grid referenced all his information onto this map and soon we were all poring over it, pointing out landmarks that we recognized. “So, we’re here,” Jez pointed to a small circle in the maze marking a tunnel entrance. “Daisy’s house is here, and they both join this long tunnel under Cradle Hill, leading into the town. The next entrance is at the church. Then, if you turn left and travel about a mile, it ends at the old orphanage site on the edge of town. The other direction goes under the high street and joins another tunnel, which has an entrance at the council building and then the old corn market.” “Where else has an entrance to the tunnel?” Hannah asked. “There’s a few.” Jez pointed his pen to the map again. “If you follow this tunnel, it joins up with another one and the next entry is at the primary school. Then under the Deverill house. If you double back onto the adjacent tunnel, it leads to Battlesbury Barracks, the army camp.” “What’s this in the centre?” Morgan pointed at a circular area, almost like a round underground room with five different tunnels leading from it. “That’s probably where they used to keep supplies. If you look along closely, you can see there are probably other rooms off many of the tunnels. The army in 1937 was smart. There’s nothing at the edge. It’s all basically under the centre of town.” “Why is that smart?” I asked. “Well, if you were worried about anyone sneaking in and stealing anything, they’d have to travel a long way before they got to the storerooms. They would have been intercepted way before they even got there,” Jez replied. “I think these lines here are small guardrooms, which would all have been manned at the time. See, there’s no way to get into the central zone without passing at least one of the guardrooms.” “Sounds creepy,” Hannah said, rubbing her arm to calm her goosebumps. “Right, so where do we go?” said Morgan. “I think you need to head for this central circle. Who knows what’s still down there now? But if my dad is anywhere, he’ll be in this area, I’m sure of it.” Jez bit his lip and sat back. “So, we do this,” I said. “What’s the time now?” “Just gone 9 p.m.. Let’s get ready,” said Morgan, then to Jez. “Show me what you’ve brought.” I sat for a moment and studied the map, trying to remember the guardrooms, the junctions, which way the tunnels veered off from the central circle. “Rose, what’s up?” Hannah said softly. “I think, before I go, I need to see Daisy. Make sure she’s okay, and tell her where I am,” I said, thinking aloud as I stood. “Yep, you go but don’t be long,” said Morgan giving me a secret smile. He grabbed my hand as I walked past him and squeezed it quickly. “See you in a bit.” I ran across the lawn to the house. The house was dark. I switched on the kitchen light to; the only noise came from the fridge and the occasional drip from the sink tap. I walked slowly into the hallway and stood in silence.
Closing my eyes, I used my gift to feel for any presence in the house, but it was empty. The eerie creaks, moans, and starkness were all that filled my ears. The hall stand notepad was blank, no note from Daisy to say where she was. It was the same in the study, with her papers scattered across the desk, nothing to give me an idea where she might be. I tried her mobile as I walked back to the kitchen to view her calendar. Her phone rang twice, then stopped. The automated operator told me that the phone was not available, which most likely meant that it was switched off. Daisy would never have done that, so either she’d run out of battery or she couldn’t answer for some reason. The calendar had an appointment with WG, which I took to mean Women’s Guild, but it had been a morning meeting. Her afternoon schedule was blank. Something wasn’t right. I don’t know how I knew, but I felt it. This wasn’t like Daisy. She wouldn’t have disappeared without letting me know or leaving a note. I felt cold, as though a chill had entered the room, and I wrapped my arms tightly around my body. If I couldn’t get hold of Daisy, I knew someone who could. I sent a text to Pritchard to see if she’d been to the army hospital to check on Henry during the afternoon. While I waited for a reply, I dashed upstairs to put on a warm jumper and my thick boots again. If the tunnels had been forgotten, there was no knowing what state they would be in now. I grabbed a pair of gloves from my drawer and shoved them into my jacket pocket. I didn’t want to be needlessly cold and really didn’t want to use my gift around Morgan too much. I needed him to remember that I was a normal girl, not some freak who could change her body temperature at will. As I left my room, my mobile beeped. Pritchard’s text read “Not seen Daisy since 1300. Where are you going?” If Daisy hadn’t returned from her meeting, then where was she? I sent a reply back. “I’m worried about Daisy. I’ll be at Morgan’s all night with friends.” He didn’t answer. By the time I walked across the lawn to Morgan’s, I could hear the TV from the cottage. The guys were masking their own sounds, and the pretence was working as planned. The first thing I notice upon my arrival was a piece of cardboard taped to the wall high up in the corner. “To hide the camera,” Hannah whispered. I whipped round and dragged Morgan to a quiet corner. “Don’t you think that’s a bit suspicious?” I said. “Won’t someone be banging on the door at any moment?” “Nope. The camera is only for my use. Army boys aren’t interested what happens inside here. But they have a view of the feed. If all four of us suddenly disappear downstairs, it may raise a few eyebrows.” “Daisy’s not in the house. I don’t know where she is. I’ve sent a text to Pritchard so he’ll probably try and find her.” “I wouldn’t worry about Daisy too much. She’ll be fine,” Morgan said and rubbed a reassuring hand down my back. “You okay?” “I’m fine, just a little worried. Tell me the plan.” He nodded and led me back to the table where Jez was busy packing a bag and the rucksack. “Jez is packing two bags. The rucksack has food, water, and a change of clothes, in case we find Graham. The bag has things we’ll need. Compass, tape, rope, wet wipes, a first-aid kit, some energy bars, bottles of water, and the grid maps. We can carry the torches and keep our phones in our pockets.” Jez put the packed bags down and reached for another box. Inside, packed into tight foam were other objects that I’d never seen before.
“Here, let me put this in your ear to try it.” Jez lifted a small microphone that latched under my earlobe. “You press this once and talk normally. We’ll hear you from up here. Anything you don’t want us to hear,” he gave a sly smile to Morgan, “just press it again and it’ll cut the signal.” “We’ll stay together down there, but if we get split up for any reason, Jez can switch the signal so we can talk, right?” Morgan flicked a glance at Jez. He nodded. “Hannah will read you through the maps when you’re down there, in case lighting is bad. Keep your compass handy,” Jez continued. “It’s a sophisticated one that will also navigate your distances as well. There’s only one compass so try and stay together.” Jez and Hannah moved the sofa out slightly and placed the navigation instruments in front of them, placing earpieces into their own ears; Morgan did the same. “Right, let’s get this wall down,” said Morgan. Jez followed him as they left through another door. I heard the quiet thump of boots on stairs as they went down. Soon the noise of hammers, drills, and saws filled the cottage. Hannah and I sat quietly while we waited. She was nervous, tapping her shoes on the floor in rhythmic succession. “What do we do if he’s not down there?” I said abruptly. Her foot stopped as she thought about what I’d said. “I don’t know. Try something else, I guess. But we’re right about this, I just know it.” “Hannah, will you do something for me?” I asked. “Sure.” “If something should happen, or if you don’t hear from us within an hour of our last contact, will you ring this number and tell them where we are?” I wrote Pritchard’s number on a notepad and placed it on the table. “Who is it?” “His name is Pritchard. I can’t go into the details now but should something happen to either of us, don’t hesitate to call him.” “Okay. I’d already planned to call Daisy,” she stated. “Daisy isn’t home. She’s gone somewhere.” “What if Daisy comes back?” “Just call Pritchard first, no matter what. Then tell Daisy.” I put the pen down and waited. Downstairs the noise ceased and the boys were on their way back, treading softly on the stair boards. “Okay, you’re good to go,” Jez said, rubbing his hands together. “Earpieces in?” “Yes,” we all replied. I secured the bag over my chest, making sure it hung under one arm so I could run if needed. Morgan had the backpack in place and Jez handed us the large, heavy-duty torches. We all looked at each other for a moment. This was the calm before the storm. Hannah pulled me into a bear hug and whispered, “Be careful,” before letting me go and doing the same to Morgan. Jez hugged Morgan, then pulled me into an embrace. We had never really been this close before but it felt nice. He felt like a real friend at last. I hoped I was the same to him. “Good luck,” they both said together as we walked down the stairs. I glanced quickly back and they waved. Our only connection to the upstairs world was now disappearing as I entered the colder domain of Morgan’s basement. Where the wall had been now stood a heavily rusted iron door with a circular wheel to secure it open, and closed. Morgan turned it and pulled the giant piece of metal open. We stepped into the dark, dank underground chamber. It wasn’t as I imagined. It was too dark. The heavy air was damp and musty with mould spores. Fungus grew from the walls and dripping weeds hung from the roof. Their usual green had been bleached white due to the absence of any real oxygen or light. Drops of water thumped into pools up and down the walkway, and the floor was a slippery mass of grotesque slime.
“Smells like something died down here,” I whispered. My voice amplified along the empty walls and echoed a repeat into the distance. “Yeah, it’s pretty bad,” Morgan grimaced. “Here, hand me the map.” I was thankful that Jez had seen fit to place the map in a plastic envelope to prevent any smudges or water damage. I handed it over. “So, if we turn left at the next junction, we have a mile to walk under Cradle Hill to the next junction.” “Let’s go,” I breathed out. The air was clammy round my mouth. Our torches lit each side of the tunnel, giving us a clear view of what was ahead. At the junction, I stopped. To the right lay another long corridor. “That’s the way to Daisy’s entrance,” Morgan said. I shone my torch along the floor way but it was too dark near the end to see the entry to Daisy’s house. It certainly didn’t look like the way had been used, leading me to think that Daisy had probably abandoned and boarded it up. Hannah’s voice sounded in our ears. “So, you should be at the junction now. The tunnel to the left goes to the town. There are two guardrooms along the way, so check them out. The first one is about three hundred metres on your right. Let us know when you get there.” “Will do,” Morgan said and pressed his earpiece. We trudged over the floor and I shone my torch down to see the intricate brickwork at our feet. “This must have taken forever to build. Do you think the army did all this?” “No, the army probably started but when the war began, it was probably done by prisoners of war. There was a camp near Imber. Polish, Germans and French, and anyone on Hitler’s side, or conspiring against the Crown. This was probably their punishment.” We carried on, stepping carefully. The walkway got easier as we moved further into the underground maze. Soon the brickwork turned to concrete and the dampness under our feet dried up. We quickened our steps as the way got less slimy and we made it to the first guardroom. Cobwebs hung from the ceiling and dust particles claimed their place on the iron door. It was already open. The room was small, furnished with only a wooden table and a couple of metal chairs. The seats of the chairs had perished, but the table remained intact. In the corner was an empty filing cabinet, with one bottom drawer open providing a new home to a rat or mouse. Inside the drawer, scraps of material, dried moss, and other scavenged debris lined the edges. Whatever creature had made it his home was long gone. I moved my torch around the room and noticed something. “What do you see?” I said to Morgan who was closing the filing drawer. “Nothing. What do you mean?” “The table? There’s no dust on it.” “It’s been used recently. But the chairs are all broken.” “Someone was here, though. Why would they come here?” I shivered as we continued farther. The air was getting clearer, though the ceiling began to look decrepit as long tree roots had buried their way through and were now embedded into the walls, craving the dampness that had been here before. “Doesn’t look too safe,” Morgan muttered as he shone the torch upwards. The plaster had cracked so much that pieces of it were now entangled into the roots. One sudden movement and the whole roof might come down. I pulled at the compass from my bag and pointed it forward. The red beam sprung out ahead into the void and the reading flashed on the screen. I pressed my earpiece. “Hannah, the compass says seven hundred metres to the end.” “Good. The next room is about four hundred metres on the left.”
“Okay.” I left the earpiece sound on in case they wanted to talk to us. I knew Morgan had switched his off but it seemed a better idea to keep the channel open. Being down here was spooky, and I didn’t want to take any chances if we were jumped. “Compass says two hundred. Not far now,” I said into the gloom. We reached the second guardroom and it was almost identical to the last one, except there was no filing cabinet, only a table and chairs. This room was dusty, though. No one had been in it for years. We left soon after and met our first tunnel entrance. “This one leads to the church,” Hannah remarked. “It should be sealed up still.” “Yeah,” Morgan said. “Doesn’t look like the door’s been opened in a while. It’s rusty as hell.” He dragged his fingers over the wheel circle and the shards of metal and rust stuck to his fingers. “Okay, guys. Don’t bother with the orphanage tunnel to the left. We think if you go right, then right again, you’ll end up in the tunnel that leads to the circular room. Be careful because there are storerooms along there. Be stealthy,” said Hannah. “Okay.” I pointed the torch to the right. “Rose?” Morgan whispered. “What?” He pointed to the earpiece. “Oh, right,” I said and pressed it off. “Now what?” “This,” and he kissed me so sweetly and deeply, I felt myself melting into him. “What was that for?” I whispered when he broke away. “I want to ask you something and I know you won’t want to do it.” “Ask me what?” I frowned. “Instead of us traipsing farther, could you ... you know … use your gift, see if anyone’s actually down here?” He smiled a half-smile but I frowned. I shook my head. “Morgan, I’m not sure I should. If it’s a trap, I don’t want to get caught.” “I know. I don’t know how far away you can sense but we could still get back before anyone reached us.” I paused. It would make sense but I was conflicted. “It does make sense,” I sighed. “What’s stopping you?” he looked at me under his eyebrows. “You are. I’ve never used it in front of anyone that wasn’t my family. I haven’t even talked about it properly with Daisy.” “It doesn’t matter. You could help us. It would save so much time,” he pleaded. He was right and I knew it. “You won’t think I’m a freak of nature?” “Rose, all you Frost women are freaks of nature. Doesn’t change who you are in here,” he reached his palm out and touched my heart, then stroked my cheek softly, making my heart flutter. I nodded. He’d won me over. “Okay, but don’t touch me while I’m doing it.” “I won’t.” He stepped back to give me space. I put the torch and compass back in the bag, emptying my hands, and raised them on each side of me. I closed my eyes and felt deep down into my body, drawing the tingling sensation up my arms and out through my fingers. I opened my eyes to see my silvery grey tendrils pushing out in front, touching, feeling their way forward, like a thousand strands of rope. Farther and farther I pushed. I heard Morgan utter a “wow” into the space between us. All around my body was a whirl of silver light skipping in and out of me. Morgan had no use for his torch, because I lit up the corridor so brightly, my whole body was like a new beacon of light. “You’re so amazing,” Morgan said, awed.
“Shh, quiet please!” I whispered back as I felt forward. A void opened up on the right and I felt my way in. I could almost see into the room, even though I stood six hundred metres away. “I’m in the first storeroom. There’s nobody in it,” I said. I tried something new and sent a shard of light down the tendrils touching the room. I could see it more clearly now. “What’s in it?” Morgan whispered tentatively. He shuffled from one foot to the other without breaking his gaze. “Just boxes on shelves. The boxes are old,” I tried to read the writing on the sides and sucked in a breath. I withdrew my silver ropes out, just in case. “Tell me. What did you see?” “Ammunition. Loads of it. The storeroom is filled with grenades and foot-long bombshells in wooden crates stuffed with straw. It’s a mini-arsenal.” “What else?” Beads of sweat gathered on my forehead. The strain was beginning to hurt my upper arms, and my muscles began shaking with the extra work. “I don’t know how much farther I can go.” “Just try.” I touched something on the ground outside the second storeroom twenty metres further on the left. It was a blanket but had fresh blood encrusted into the fibres. I reached inside the room, almost smelling the air inside. It had the tangy smell of body odour, days old; a pot in the corner still had urine in the bottom. A human hand had gripped the wall, the sweat streaking down the old, peeling paint. I heard a noise, and faint voices whispered and drew nearer. I immediately withdrew my tendrils, pulling them back, dulling the glow until they swarmed around me and shot back into my body. I collapsed on the floor and puffed lungs of air in and out. “Rose, are you all right?” Morgan whispered. “Someone’s coming.” “How far?” “A long way off. We can get to the first room if we run.” He grabbed my hand, pulling me forward as we ran in the dim light. He still held his torch but the light flickered back and forth as he ran, leaving no solid light to guide us. We made it to the ammunition storeroom and closed the door quietly, standing behind it. “Can you hear them?” he whispered in my ear. I shook my head. I heard nothing, no footsteps, no voices. A faint tickle itched on the inside of my skull and I jabbed my fingers to my temple to push the pain away. “Please, not now.” Morgan looked concerned but held his tongue. I twisted my earrings around to see if the metal would dull the pain. It did. “Let’s look in the other room,” I whispered and moved back through the doorway to the corridor. Morgan followed as we went in, watching his step around the blanket. “Someone was here recently. There’s a hand mark down the wall, and a pee pot, recently emptied.” I pointed to the corner as he shone his torch. “You can tell all that?” “Yeah.” The torch lit the room, along the walls, then to the ceiling until Morgan’s hand stayed on the back of the door. “Rose, look.” Scratched into the wooden partition were the words “God help me,” then the initials “GP.” “Graham Portway.” “Jez’s dad?”
“Yes, he was here. Can you tell how recent he could have been here?” “Not really. I’m not that experienced with what I see or find. From the smell, I’d say he left a couple of days ago.” “Do you want to try again with your gift?” “I’ll try, but I can’t promise anything,” I breathed in and then stepped from the room. Closing my eyes again, I felt my gift tug out of my fingers as if it wanted to be set free. It drew away from me as my body flickered with light, paler now. I pushed forward. My body was tiring but I kept on, touching the walls, feeling for any life. The tunnel ended and I felt either way. A giant void was ahead and I sensed … something. Or someone. I couldn’t tell. I fell to my knees exhausted. Morgan leaned me against the wall and held me up. “I’m sorry, Rose, I didn’t mean to push,” he whispered. He sat down and leaned forward as I rested my full weight on him. The tingling in my arms wouldn’t subside and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t pull my silver ropes fully into my arms. I still flickered dimly now. My eyes were heavy and I couldn’t stay awake. As the rapid footfalls of someone approaching sounded in my ears, I fell into a soft sleep on Morgan’s shoulder, and was out fully to the world underground.
- CHAPTER FOURTEEN -
“TIME TO WAKE UP, ROSE,” THE VOICE SAID, deep and loud in the empty room. Someone flicked their fingers in my face. “Rose, are you with us?” The faraway voice echoed again around the immeasurable walls of the vast circular dungeon room, hitting the high ceiling and spinning around the apex. The smell of fetid air lingered closely to my face and itched my nostrils. The footsteps grew closer to me again, one set only, and I jerked awake, pulling my eyelids open. The blurred shadows gained focus slowly in the dimly lit space. I tried to sense what danger now loomed around me but my body felt numb, worn out with exhaustion. I lifted my head, wincing and stretching the aching muscles in my neck. I opened my eyes fully and saw Aiden Deverill standing in front of me. “You awake?” he said. “How are you feeling?” “I’m okay,” I said hoarsely, and tried to reach my hand out but I couldn’t move. I peered down. I was sitting in an old metal chair, my hands tied and crossed behind my back. Rough ties clamped my ankles to the chair legs. I tried to move again, twisting my wrists to see if there was any give in the bindings, but I was stuck fast. “What is this?” I cried at him but he showed no remorse at my outburst. “I had to tie you down, Rose. It’s for your own protection, for now, anyway,” he said with a laugh in his voice. “Where’s Morgan?” I said as I tried to twist round. “Oh, he’s over there. Would you like to see him?” Aiden picked the chair corner up and twisted me round. Morgan lay on the floor. His hands and legs bound like mine. He looked at me with a pained expression and tried to murmur “I’m sorry,” but couldn’t raise his head from the floor. Aiden moved my chair back to its original position. I peered around the room to gain some perspective. Ahead of me, behind Aiden, were three tunnel entrances. Another was behind me, most likely our way in, and one was to my right. In between each tunnel entrance, iron-grill gates barred storerooms and holding cells. The grim cells were dank and dark, each with a single wooden cot along the back wall, with no sanitation and no natural air supply. I pitied the poor souls who had lived in these cells during the war. I hoped they hadn’t suffered, or gone mad from the primitive captivity. Dust motes clung to air pockets and flew around the small wire-wrapped light bulbs. There was no other furniture except one other chair; this wasn’t a place for meetings or rendezvous. This was a place where people lived out their worst fears. In the dark, alone and deprived of any social contact. Forgotten. Aiden grabbed the other chair and sat astride it, facing me. His arms rested on the chair back and he smirked. I should have felt afraid but didn’t. For the things he’d done, for the way he’d hurt people, I should have been scared out my wits, but I wasn’t. I knew he wouldn’t hurt me. It was almost instinct. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt me in any way. Morgan, on the other hand, well, I had no idea what he might do to Morgan. “Let him go,” I bellowed. “He’s done nothing to you.” He sniggered. “But he’s done something to you, and that hurts me. Now you need to hear what I have to say.” I suddenly remembered Mira, lying in the hospital bed. “I can’t believe you have the gall to sit in front of me right now,” I said through gritted teeth. “If I wasn’t tied to this chair, I’d kill you for what you did to Mira. She didn’t deserve that.” He looked shocked at my confrontation and sprang back from the chair. “It wasn’t me driving. I had no idea.”
“No? Would you care to visit her in hospital, in a neck brace with a dislocated shoulder? Would you care to see her then?” I shouted. The fury came back and I flickered again, my body not yet healed. “Oh, Rose, would you calm down, please? This room’s already been lit up like a Christmas tree, thanks to you. It wasn’t me driving the car, okay? Ben’s friend Simon borrowed it when I was out. I wouldn’t have done that to Mira. Daisy told me about the accident.” “Why should I believe you? You’re just a liar. A bully who throws people out of their houses and kills small children for their own petty pleasure. Guess you didn’t think I knew that, did you?” I spat back. He looked repentant for a second. “I have no doubt that you would know. This town’s full of people telling tales on each other because they have nothing better to do. It’s always easier to believe the gossip than the truth. Well, I’m telling you the truth.” “So, you’re not sorry for what you did. You don’t regret it,” I glanced at him sideways. If I could have thrown daggers with my eyes, I would have. “Regret? You speak to me of regret, Rose? You have no idea how much I regret my past actions. Those regrets live with me every single day. I did my time, and I served my sentence in prison. And you know something? Even now, even today, when I close my eyes, it’s Amelia McCaw’s face I see. But it doesn’t change anything because in a small town like this, to the people here, I will always be guilty. You can’t change people, Rose, no matter what you do.” I could hear Morgan shuffling and scratching behind me. “Don’t you dare talk about my sister. You ended that right when you ended her life, you piece of—” “Oh, stow it, McCaw. I’ve heard it all before,” Aiden sat again. “You see what I mean, Rose? How can I say I’m sorry to her family? Even when I try to, I get it thrown back at me.” Morgan was relentless. “Because you think you’re so high and mighty being Ben Deverill’s grandson. You think you’re better than us. One single ‘I’m sorry’ doesn’t cut it. You took away her life, but you’re still here. Walking and talking like a normal person. Well, you’re not. You’re not worth the crap on my shoe. Keep your apologies for someone who cares.” “Okay, McCaw, seeing as you won’t pipe down, let’s talk about you.” Aiden shuffled his chair so he could see both of us clearly. “Let’s talk about how you’ve lied to Rose.” “Deverill, don’t you dare,” Morgan shouted. “This is not the time.” “What do you mean? Lied to me about what?” I spluttered. Morgan wouldn’t lie to me. We trusted each other. “Rose, do you remember when I visited you at the picnic? I told you to be careful who you befriended, that some would betray you?” “I remember, and someone did. Mira got hurt because of it,” I said. “Aiden, I’m warning you⎯” Morgan yelled. “Rose. What if I said it was everyone? Everyone you know in your whole life has betrayed you.” I sat still, my body frozen. What was he saying? He continued. “Let’s start with your family. Where are they?” I heard Morgan mutter “for God’s sake.” “Daisy’s probably told you. My parents are in the Middle East, and my sister is in Manchester still.” “How would you feel if I told you that none of it was true? That it was all a lie,” he leaned forward to see the hurt flash in my eyes. “I’m telling you the truth, aren’t I, McCaw?” He leaned over to see if Morgan had taken the bait. “She’s doesn’t deserve this. She’s not ready,” Morgan yelled.
“Well, I think she is. I think she deserves to know the truth about who she is. Why her life has all been a web of lies. Hey, I’m the only person who’s ever been honest with her.” He flung out his arms in gesture. “You’re despicable. I hate you so much,” Morgan cried. “Leave it now, while you still can.” “You know what, Rose? I’ve had enough of this. We need to talk without all of these constant interruptions,” he sat again then yelled. “Shipilé!” A young man Aiden’s age ran from one of the tunnel entrances to stand by Aiden. “Yes, sir?” “Please gag him, Spencer. But don’t hurt him,” he pointed to Morgan. “And bring him over here. I want him to see Rose when I tell her everything.” “Yes, sir.” I watched Spencer prop Morgan on the floor against the side wall. He protested noisily, kicking his bound feet as Spencer applied a material gag to Morgan’s mouth and tied it behind his head. “Do you want me to stay, sir?” Spencer asked, once finished in his task. “No, leave us. Just make sure we don’t get interrupted again.” Spencer left as quickly as he’d arrived, down the centre tunnel behind Aiden’s head. I strayed a glance at Morgan again, who had his eyes fixed on me. “Tell me where my family is!” I spat out at Aiden. Aiden lifted his finger, pointing it at Morgan who shook his head. “They’re all in his house. His proper house, that is. Mum, Dad and Amy. All together in this very town. They’ve all deceived you, Rose.” “No, I don’t believe you!” “No?” he looked at Morgan. “Tell her, McCaw. Are they there or not?” I scowled at Morgan. “Morgan, please tell me it’s not true?” I saw a tear fall from Morgan’s eye, but it didn’t help with what I was hearing. He gave me a small nod, and I winced. After all I had said, this afternoon especially, I couldn’t comprehend it fully. It didn’t sink in. I began to feel lightheaded. Daisy would have known, Morgan knew. Aiden knew. How far did this lie spread? To Mira or Hannah, whom I trusted with anything? I pinched my face, the reality dawning, and spat at Morgan. “How could you? After all I said about missing my family? You knew, and you said nothing?” Morgan hung his head at my words, and he didn’t look in my direction for a while. Aiden continued. “All your life, you’ve been moved from pillar to post. You think it was all because of your father’s work?” I nodded. “Did you ever visit his office? Or attend work-related family barbecues? Did any of them ever visit your house?” I shook my head. “Didn’t it ever occur to you that it might actually have something to do with you?” “No. Why should it? I’m just an ordinary girl,” I cried. He laughed. “You’re so naïve. You’re not ordinary in any way. You’re extraordinary in every way. Don’t you get it? It was because of you. They moved around so much because you were the threat. There are a lot of people that want you dead. People who’ve sought you out from the minute you were born. You’ve been hunted nearly all your life. Your parents could never keep you in the same place for too long in case you were found. It had nothing to do with Daddy’s job. It was all because of you.” I shook my head, denying the words. “No, it’s not true. You’re twisting everything. They love me, and if that was the case, they would’ve told me.”
“They’re scared of you, Rose. Your sister despises you. You’ve brought her nothing but misery because you’ve ruined her life. She didn’t have a normal, loving family home like ordinary folk. You took precedent above everything else, you stole her childhood, and she hates you for it.” “No, you’re wrong.” “Am I? How many times has she called you? How many times has she written that she misses her little sister?” he leaned his head down onto the chair back. “Why are you doing this?” I choked. Tears stung my eyes. My chin quivered as I looked back at him. “Because you need to know the truth from someone who wants what’s best for you.” “You think this is best for me? Trying to turn me against my family?” “Your parents lied to you. This whole thing was a set-up, a conspiracy arranged by your family, with Daisy’s help, to get you here. And all of your friends, including Mira and Morgan, were told to keep the truth from you. They all know about your abilities, Rose. What you can do. What you’re going to become.” “Become?” “You haven’t worked it out yet?” Aiden laughed. Morgan strained at his gag and tried to yell something incomprehensible. Aiden continued. “You were born prematurely by four weeks, roughly. Which would make your proper sixteenth birthday on the 23rd of August, which is ten days from now. In ten days time you’re going to become Halíka Dacomé, the first Primord Elemental with the longest bloodline in the world. The oldest bloodline in our human history. She was the first homo sapien, the Matriarchal Eve. That makes you very special.” “You’re insane!” I shook my head uncomprehending. “What are you going on about?” “Shall I start from the beginning?” I huffed. “Get to the point.” “Okay, the short version, then.” He leaned forward on his elbows, closer to me. “Halíka Dacomé was brought up to be a warrior, and she led the fiercest, largest armies of the planet. She was feared, revered, and no one could match her in battle. Her father was the leading Primord Elemental. A king, as we would call him. They were called Primord Elementals because the royal bloodlines had abilities, whereas ordinary folk, plain and normal Primords didn’t. “Anyway, his rule was threatened and then lost to a younger usurper who claimed the throne. Halíka Dacomé conspired with three other royals, each from the neighbouring lands, to take back the throne for her father. One of those conspirators was Nerído Xipilé, her lover. Theirs was a forbidden, heart-wrenching, bone-aching, to-die-for love. But unbeknownst to Halíka Dacomé, her father had only given up his kingship because he had promised her hand in marriage to the new king in exchange for his own freedom. Halíka Dacomé’s own father betrayed her for his own selfish reasons. He would give up the crown but the bloodline would carry on through her. “On hearing this marriage arrangement, Halíka Dacomé married Nerído Xipilé in secret before the new king, the usurper, had a chance to claim her hand. Afterwards, the two and their royal friends, Sanatu Batavé and Avíra Maloké conspired for days on how to depose the new king and reclaim the throne for Halíka Dacomé’s father, even though he’d treated her despicably. “Halíka Dacomé and her trusted allies were within one day of attacking with armies so large and so staggering that the usurper would have been toppled in a second. “But on the night before the attack, Halíka Dacomé was followed home to her secret hiding place by one of the new king’s spies. He overheard their plans and reported it back to the new king. Once the plans for war against him were uncovered, the king scuttled it in the nick of time and tortured her father.
“As punishment for the threatened coup, all four royals were cast into prison until a suitable place was found for their exile. Royals can’t be executed like common folk, so for a year and a day, they waited, alone, separated, until the news came through. “A place had been discovered and it was ideal for their incarceration. “Earth, 200,000 years ago, was a very different place. It was mostly forest or ice, but on the barren plains, the environment was harsh and almost devoid of humans at that time. “All four Primord Elementals were sent to Earth with a mission: their penance. They must advance the civilisation of humankind, prepare it for the time when the rest of the Primords would need it. The four planets were overcrowded and short of space and people lived longer, up to two hundred years. Soon the time would come when they would need to expand, move to another planet. But the new planet needed to be ready for them. “After the four Primord Elementals landed on Earth, they scattered, for their own safety. The continents of our world were much the same then as they are now. One went to the Americas, one went to the Orient, one to the Southern Hemisphere, and last one to the Northern Hemisphere.” Aiden paused. I stared at him in disbelief. “This is a very interesting story. Does it have an end?” I squeezed my sarcasm through my teeth. “I’ll continue. The Primord Elementals didn’t meet again for some time. Many years passed— hundreds, thousands even. “Halíka Dacomé still felt her love for Nerído Xipilé, like a pulling of her ropes, even when the most basic instinct, to keep the bloodline alive, meant she had to breed with the hominids she deemed to be subhuman to her. “When she was thirty, she began to feel her powers wane. The effects of our Earth, our oxygen and environment on her own body, were making her age more quickly. While she was young, it was almost impossible for her to die. But she grew older, and she knew her life was ending. Before that day came, she saw her own abilities develop in her first granddaughter. It was the origination of the mitochondrial path. In other words, her gift travelled down the female line but it always skipped a generation. “To keep the granddaughter safe from harm, she removed her from the nomadic tribe with whom they lived and began teaching her everything she could about their power. Halíka Dacomé held on for as long as she could, and at sixteen, the granddaughter gained the full power. Soon after that, Halíka Dacomé perished. But, thanks to the blood, Halíka Dacomé was reborn again in her granddaughter. The granddaughter found that she could speak to her grandmother as if she were standing by her side. Then, when the time came and the granddaughter became a grandmother, the same thing happened. Each time the power grew, and each time it was stronger. Halíka Dacomé was the First of the human race as we know it.” “Let me get this straight. You’re saying that Daisy is Halíka Dacomé and I’m going to become Halíka Dacomé, too.” I spluttered a laugh. “You’re seriously deranged.” Aiden stared at me closely, then stood, shoving the chair away. “Rose, I want you to show you something,” he drew up his sleeve and I froze. A long spurt of fire, thick yellow and red flames, extended from his fingers. The flames hit the ground, scorching the floor before he dragged it back into his body. I choked at the spontaneous fire. I knew there was something about him, his essence. His lack of body vibration had never been normal. I think I understood now. We were the same. “Inside me, I’m Nerído Xipilé, and I have known it since I was a child.” He sat again and leaned forward but with his head facing the floor. “I’ve been alone with this secret, with these abilities all my life. I’ve had no one to share it with, and no one to understand my fears and doubts. My grandfather trained me with what I needed to know, but he was never a loving man.”
“Have you a bracelet?” I said softly, slowly understanding Aiden for who he was. Aiden lifted his left sleeve and exposed a saltire cross in silver, the cross similar to the flag emblem of Scotland. He twisted his arm over so I could see his wrist, the two-pronged bar stuck into his skin as mine was. “This is the mark of my race, the Xipilé bloodline, as yours is the mark of the Dacomé bloodline.” “Why didn’t you tell me this before?” He sighed. “I wanted to, but they wouldn’t let me. Daisy and the others kept saying you weren’t ready. But I knew you were,” he smiled genuinely. “I am ready. Somehow, I’ve always known about this. It all makes sense now. Thank you,” I smiled. “Can you let me go now?” He laughed. “Sure.” He knelt and undid my feet, and then behind me undid the ties on my hands. I glanced quickly to Morgan, his face full of tears. Having to watch what just unfolded must’ve been so painful for him. My deception must have been so much to bear. Aiden walked in front and helped me to my feet. I stood, checking my wrists, and quickly healed the welts on my ankles from the ties. I felt strong again. “Rose, if I upset you, I’m sorry,” Aiden offered. I bounded forward and swiped the back of my hand across his face so hard that he staggered, and then fell to the floor. I kicked his stomach and punched his nose where he lay. With one foot pressing on his chest, I kept him down; my hard stare surprised him more than the punch. “Thank you for the story, Aiden. It was most enlightening. But there’s one thing you forgot. I am not Halíka Dacomé, my name is Rose Frost, and you and I will never be the same.” He tried to push my foot away but I shoved it down harder on his chest. “Stay down while I speak. If I am the First, then you are not. That means I’m older, I’m stronger, and I will always be better than you. One thing you didn’t realise? I am loved. Even if my family deceived me, they did it out of love. And even if my friends betrayed me, well, they like me, too. All I see in you is a little boy who couldn’t control his temper. So don’t ever think we’re the same. You had it all, a stable home life and a loving family, and you lost it. It doesn’t mean that you take it out on other people, or on other children. You followed all of Ben Deverill’s instructions, even though you did more harm than good. Why? Because you’re afraid of him? You should have done better than that. You’re a Royal Primord. Do you know what? I feel sorry for you.” He spat blood from his mouth before he could speak. “Rose, you don’t understand. I expect nothing from you, so think what you want of me. It doesn’t change anything, but you must know. He has Daisy, and he’s going to kill her.” I stepped harder on his chest, and he yelled in pain. “Where is she?” I yelled. “You won’t be able to get near her without my help. I’ve been waiting for you all my life so that we can fight him. I couldn’t do it on my own. You must believe me.” “Where is Daisy?” “I want to save her as much as you do.” “Really? So where did this newfound empathy spring from?” “Henry Cole. It was me who freed him.” That caught me off guard. “Get up,” I hissed, lifting my foot from his chest. Aiden pushed himself up gingerly, but his face was a bloody mess. I felt ashamed, but my anger was bigger, like an uncontrollable fire burning away inside. He stood but his shoulders bowed over and he grimaced as his arm went to his chest. “Aiden, I didn’t hit you that hard.” He breathed uneasily. “It’s not what you did. It’s what he did to me.”
“What did he do?” I said slowly. “Help me lift my top off and I’ll show you. Maybe then you’ll believe me that I’m on your side.” His eyebrows puckered with pain. “Okay. Sit,” I ordered, and dragged the chair for him to rest. He leaned forward resting his elbows on his knees. His lightweight black sweater glistened on the surface, and I smoothed a hand over the soft fabric along a small part of his back. When I looked again my hand was red. Blood. “Oh my God, Aiden. What’s he done?” I spluttered as I lifted the bottom hem of his sweater gently up his back and over his head. I dropped it to the floor. He leaned back against the chair. I sank into my seat as I looked at the bloody mess that had been Aiden’s torso. I recalled the night of the fire when my glance had remained on his skin, and his chest, admiring his body. Now the ribbons of skin were excruciating to look at. There were hundreds of gashes and deep wounds, all about twelve centimetres long, but no more then a few centimetres between each welt. I had never been so appalled in my life. I sucked in air through my teeth. “This is what he did because you let Henry go?” “Yes. This is his way of telling me that he won’t forgive or trust me again.” “Did he do it himself?” He nodded. “He used a whip with wire points on each end. He only stopped when there was no more skin to harm.” “Why didn’t you come to me?” I cried. “You know what I can do. I could have healed you.” His hands went to his face, hiding painful tears. “I went to your house, but the security wouldn’t let me in. They said that neither you nor Daisy was at home. I found out from Lucie, who told my grandfather, that you had plans for the tunnels. I knew I had to get to you before you reached him, so I waited. As soon as I sensed your gift, I pulled at it, hoping you would come. I was afraid you’d run away from me.” “I felt you tug, but I was too tired by then.” “I know.” As Aiden sat, his pain was obvious. How he had masked it before I could only put down to an adrenaline rush. His body would naturally have numbed any discomfort. “Why do certain people want me dead? What have I ever done to them?” He spoke slowly. “Once you and Daisy are gone, the Dacomé line will be ended. Then I will be next. Once we’re dead, he will store our blood and try to return home. You see, since our ancestors left, the planets where we originally came from are in turmoil. We are the first and last of our own people. He needs the three crystals to capture our blood and at the moment, he can’t find them. Once he does, he’ll be gone. But he plans something else before he leaves.” “Such as?” “A Rapture.” “A what?” “Like from the Bible. When the end of days comes, those who are devout will just disappear up to the kingdom of heaven.” “But we’re not talking of a Bible Rapture, are we?” “No. He’s going to kill everyone on this planet, reduce the human race to dust. There will be no one to stop him. You are the only one who can.” I leaned back, trying to take in the words. Ben Deverill wanted to bring on Armageddon and wipe out the entire human race. The thought was too much to bear. This was bigger than me. Bigger than anything I’d ever heard. Everyone I had ever known would be killed. Billions of innocent lives would be ended, on the whim of a mad man, a genocidal maniac. “But why would he want to do that?”
Aiden chuckled. “This is the crazy bit. He wants to bring the Primords here. Our world would be nicely prepared for them.” “He’s planning to bring ‘aliens’ here?” “Yes.” I gawped at the insanity of the notion. “Then we have to stop him getting those crystals,” I admitted. He nodded in affirmation. “Yes, we do.” A shiver caught me unaware. The surrounding air was suddenly colder than before. Things had to be thought of in perspective right now. I couldn’t think too far ahead. I had to focus on the here and now. Our priorities were finding Daisy and recovering the crystals. As Ben Deverill hadn’t found the crystals, we still had a chance, although the “we” part seemed to be moving boundaries. Now “we” was Aiden and I, whereas before it would have been Morgan and our friends. My head was spinning from the intake of all the new information. I shook it to gain some clarity. “Aiden, where’s Graham Portway?” I said, stern. “He’s with Daisy, I think. I tried to move him from the holding cell and get him out but I was caught, as you can see.” “This is all my fault. I should never have come to Warminster. Ever since I’ve been here, things have just gone bad,” I whispered and hung my head. “No, Rose. I needed you here. We all do. You’re the only hope we have left. He’s killed hundreds of people already, and paid off more to keep quiet about it. He needs to be stopped.” Morgan yelled behind his gag, and I knew he wasn’t enjoying what he saw. Morgan had no place in any of this anymore. If Ben Deverill had Daisy captive, only Aiden and I could find her. “What about the other missing people? Are they still alive?” “Not any more. The rest are gone, dead.” I cursed out loud. “Aiden, there’s one thing I can do for you now, but I have to get him back,” I nodded to Morgan. “What?” “Stand up.” As Aiden stood, I threw one last punch, knocking him unconscious. I wasn’t proud, and I probably shouldn’t have done it, but I needed to get Morgan away. Aiden fell down on his side. “Spencer!” I yelled. Running steps echoed through the tunnel as Spencer approached. He ran to Aiden’s side, but didn’t touch his friend. “What have you done?” Spencer charged at me, vengeance rife across his face I held him back by the arms. “I had to. He’s in a lot of pain and I have to get Morgan home. Aiden needs to be unconscious to begin healing from inside. And he won’t breathe in so much of this bad air if he’s asleep.” “But did you have to hit him?” Spencer backed away. “It was the only way. Now, wait for me here. If he wakes, keep him rested, okay? I’ll be back soon.” Spencer ran a short distance back down the tunnel, and returned with a bottle of water and some dry cloths. As he bathed Aiden’s sleeping face, I ran to Morgan and hurriedly untied his bounds. “Are you okay? Can you walk?” I whispered.
“I think so,” he croaked, as I lifted him to his feet. He shuffled, trying to get movement back to his legs, but was slow. I felt something hard bash my leg and reached into his pocket to find the earpiece. It was still switched on. Hannah and Jez must have heard everything. With one last look behind me, I put Morgan’s arm over my shoulder and half-carried him down the tunnel from where we had come. Back at the cottage, I propped Morgan on the sofa. Jez and Hannah didn’t speak, only navigated out of my way wherever I moved. Their manner was different, afraid, unsure, and I was well aware that our homecoming was icier than our departure had been. But I didn’t have time to qualify my actions or their betrayal right now. Daisy needed me. I knelt in front of Morgan and lifted his trousers. His leg wounds were oozing, they were much worse than mine had been. The skin was ripped open and blood had dripped down into his socks, now hard and dry. I laid a hand over each and healed him. I checked the rest of his body and found a broken rib. His wrists bore more smarting sores deep into the skin from the ties. I healed them in silence as all three people in that small room stared at me in awe as I glowed again. I no longer feared who I was. “Jez,” I said, keeping my head down as I worked. “I’m sorry I didn’t find your dad, but I will. I promise.” I looked up at Morgan, his face still streaky from tears. I know he wanted to apologise, and I knew Hannah and Jez wanted to talk, but I couldn’t be with any of them right now. Much as they were my friends, the pain of their lies was still too fresh. That each person I knew here had known more than I had—had known about my family but kept me from discovering the truth—was too much. A betrayal like this wouldn’t be easy to forget. But my deepest regret was Morgan. I should never have gotten close, and I found it difficult to feel anything but comradeship right now. Sure, we were all in a small unit together, much like the army, but the small links that held us together had fallen away, leaving us standing alone. All I knew was I had to be with Aiden, and I needed to gather my own thoughts. Collectively and separately, I had to focus on what would happen next. Whatever happened from this moment, there would be retribution against my family and against the people I loved. And it wouldn’t be from Aiden Deverill, as I had once thought. It would be from Ben, and it would be brutal. “How do you feel?” I asked Morgan when I was done healing. “Okay, all good I think,” he muttered. “Rose, I⎯” I held my hands up. “Don’t, please. I don’t want to hear it. I can’t hear it yet. I need to find Daisy.” Morgan pleaded. “Rose, don’t go. Not to him. Get Pritchard to go.” “I don’t have a choice. The army is no match for Ben Deverill. If Ben Deverill is a Primord Elemental, then only Aiden and I can fight him, plus I need to be with someone I can trust.” The last comment probably went too far, but I didn’t regret saying it. I turned to face my old friend and saw regret in her eyes. “Hannah. One hour. If you don’t hear from me, dial that number I gave you. Understand?” She nodded. Without looking back at any of them, I grabbed the bag again and walked back down to the tunnel. I didn’t know how many, if any, of the stories Aiden had told me were true. It did seem a little farfetched. But Aiden was like me. Different. Superhuman. Whatever way I looked at it, I could never have been ordinary Rose Frost from the North, who moved down to live with her grandmother. This town was too closely knit, and there were too many ties to each person I’d met, through family or friends or someone knowing someone else.
I needed to be free, and I needed to be myself, whoever that was. Halíka Dacomé? I still didn’t get it. But I felt it inside, that she was there, somewhere. Helping me wield my power, and helping me understand. My dreams were her visions. I knew who the grey girl in the mirror had been. The marble statue that was in the hallway of Daisy’s house now had a name. And I knew who the voice was, telling me about the item I needed to find. A previous Halíka Dacomé. Not Daisy, not the original, but just one of them. And there were many. I was scared to become her, more scared to lose myself. I vowed from this moment that I wouldn’t change from being Rose Frost, no matter what happened. As I ran along the dark tunnel, retracing my steps back to Aiden, I realised that my old life was over. My new destiny was beginning, but this time I was on my own. END OF PART ONE
Coming 2012/3
The Lost Dacomé Files The Battle of Arcanon Major & Elemental: The Circle of Fire (Primord Series Book 2) & Nikki Visit www.alexandramay.co.uk for more details
Author’s Note The basic story has been many years in the making. However, it took one day in October 2009 to pull the various story strands completely together and establish all of the characters as they are today. Anyone who listens to music will know that if you close your eyes and listen as the melodies and harmonies flow, you can capture a sequence of events in your mind. This was the moment; it took one song and Halíka Dacomé was born. It would be imprudent to name the artist and the song, but I will be indebted to them forever. My fascination with genetics, ancestry, ancient civilisations, and history had me glued to the Discovery Channel for hours. I would like to indirectly thank Prof. Brian Cox and Dr. Iain Stewart for their inspirational programs and literature. I must encourage them both wholeheartedly to carry on with their tremendous work. That being said, a book doesn’t write itself and without the generous help from the following people, my story would still be a picture in my head. Thank you to my father, Graham, for his knowledge of Wiltshire history and King Alfred; to my mother, Althea, for her continued enthusiasm and support. To Linda, who edited the final draft and encouraged me even when my bad English habits crept in. To Trish, Mario, Jo, Thomas, Kate, Paul R., Ken, and Sue who were my initial guinea pigs and didn’t laugh at my crazy idea. Most importantly I would like to thank Paul, my better half, who never complained when I spent days and weeks locked away on my own. Without his heartfelt support from its inception, I would never have achieved this great feat, which I am extremely proud of.
