Buried Magic Page 3

  Avery made a decision, and she looked around at the others. “I did find something interesting today, although I don’t know if it’s anything to do with our premonitions. I was gifted some books by a lady who recently died, and I visited her house today to pick everything up from her son. She had compiled files and family trees on lots of old White Haven families, as well as histories on shops, buildings, and an interesting collection of old town maps. My family tree was in there, as was Alex’s. I haven’t had chance to go through it all properly yet. ” She omitted the part about the photo. “It was a bit spooky, actually, like I was being spied on.”

  The atmosphere changed, and they all lowered their drinks and leaned forward.

  “Who was it?” Alex asked immediately.

  “Anne Somersby, she lived on Waverley Road. She was an old lady who was a bit of a local historian. Every now and again she’d come into the shop and look to see what books we had on the area.”

  “What do you mean, our family histories?” El asked.

  “All of us. I haven’t gone through everything yet, though.”

  “What kind of family histories?” Gil asked, his beer on the table forgotten. “I mean, was there anything in mine?”

  Was that more than natural concern she heard in his voice? “I haven’t had a chance to have a good look, Gil, they look like family trees with a brief bio on some family members. Although, she’s done the same to lots of old families in the area. Not just those with the craft.”

  “Was there any mention of magic?”

  “No! None.” She again omitted the scent of magic she had discovered.

  “What have you done with all the records you’ve found?” Alex asked.

  “They’re in my flat, which is sealed and warded, so they’re safe.”

  He nodded, satisfied, but then he surprised her by asking, “The son, is he staying there? At her house?”

  She looked at him, confused, “No idea. Why?”

  “I think we should check the house out. See if there’s more there.”

  “Are you mad? That’s breaking and entering!”

  “We won’t do any harm! We’re just looking.”

  She couldn’t believe she was hearing this, but no one else seemed to putting up a fight. “No way! What if he’s there?”

  “Take a look at those papers tomorrow, and then see if you can find where he’s staying. I think we should look, but not tonight. We’ll wait until you find out more.”

  El had been watching them both. “Do you think this has to do with your premonition then?”

  Avery shrugged. “Maybe. Or it could be some weird, random coincidence.”

  Gil shook his head. “We know better than that. There’s no such thing as coincidence. It all means something. Maybe she’d found something.”

  The room fell silent because they knew he was right. The fates moved in odd, unimaginable ways, and just because they couldn’t see the cause of something, or see where it led, didn’t mean there weren’t connections. It was like a web all around them; you just had to know where to look.

  4

  The next day the shop had been busy and Avery was tired, especially as she hadn’t arrived home until late last night.

  At just after 5: 00 PM when the last customer disappeared, she locked up, said goodbye to Sally, and passed through the internal door at the rear that was normally kept locked for privacy, and up through the stairs into her flat.

  The building that housed her shop and flat was 18th Century, and had originally been three buildings, until years ago when her family had bought them all and converted them into one. The bookshop was on the ground floor, and the next floor contained an open living room, dining room and kitchen, a bathroom, and a spare bedroom. The top floor was in the attic and housed her bedroom and an en suite bathroom, while the rest of the space made up her spell room and workspace.

  The spell room was her favourite room in the whole house. The floor was made of polished wooden floorboards, slightly scuffed now, and covered in a variety of colourful old rugs. Two worn leather sofas and an old armchair sat facing each other in the centre of the room, a small table between them. At the far side of the long room were an old oak cupboard, drawers, and a wooden table. Against the walls were shelves packed with books, many old, their pages worn, and all of her magic equipment, including her herbs, tinctures, syrups, and potions. And it was messy, like most of her house. She accumulated books, objects, pictures, and art, and they spread everywhere in random and haphazard collections.

  She walked through the living room and threw open the balcony doors, letting a warm breeze flow through the house. She headed to the kitchen and lit a bundle of herbs to clear her head, and then grabbed a glass of wine.

  The boxes she’d inherited from Anne were still spread over the living room floor, so she opened them all up to check what was in each, and then started to categorise them, deciding to put all the notes on families and the family trees together, reference books in another pile, and the fiction in another.

  The logical place to start would be with the notes on Gil’s family. She felt she was prying but it was clearly important, and he hadn’t said no. Within the box file was a large family tree that went back generations; the writing was small and immaculate, and must have taken her a long time to create. There were copies of birth certificates, marriages and deaths, and a history of the house, all the way back to the 1500s. She didn’t have to go far to find what she was looking for.

  Gil was definitely on the family tree, which was at first a relief, until she realised he could still be an imposter. But how would he have fooled his whole family, unless there was the whole ‘switched at birth’ thing happening? And that would have included his family in the collusion. It was only when she looked closely at the dates of birth of his grandfather and his great-uncle that she realised what Anne’s scribbled statement meant. Gil’s great-uncle was actually the oldest son, and his children were the true heirs of the Jackson estate. Gil was actually not in the direct line of inheritance.

  Avery leaned against the old sofa behind her and the papers dropped onto her lap. Was the family in the photo Gil’s great-uncle’s family? Were any descendants still alive, and did they know about their thwarted inheritance? She pulled the photo out and looked at it again. It must be them; the photo was of that era, although there was no date or any other identifying notes on it.

  She stared at the man in the photo, and a cold chill swept over her. His eyes were dark and compelling, but up close there seemed to be an unflinching gaze staring back at her, offering a challenge. He was younger than she had first assumed, and the children at his feet were toddlers. She checked the family tree again. Gil’s great-uncle’s name was Addison—a popular name for the oldest male. What was even odder was that there was no date of death recorded next to his name.

  Another chill ran through her. He must be dead; he’d be over a hundred by now. Perhaps Anne couldn’t find any death certificates. His wife, Philippa’s date of death wasn’t there, either. His children were named, but here was no further history on them at all. No dates of death, or recorded marriages or children. It was as if the whole family had disappeared.

  There were several questions that now needed answering. Did Gil know? How had Anne found the photo? And where was the family now? And for a reason she couldn’t suppress, the words black magic kept pushing to the front of her mind.

  Suddenly, the lamps inexplicably went dark, the doors slammed shut, and a wild wind carried around the room, lifting all the papers up and dropping them again. A presence seemed to fill the room, and Avery suppressed the urge to scream. She jumped to her feet and summoning her powers, sent a blast of light outwards from her hands and lit every single light, electric and candles, until the room blazed with brightness.

  The bulb overhead exploded, but the lamps remained on and the candles blazed.

  Avery looked around, unnerved, her heart pounding. What had caused that? But the darkness had fled
and she went to one of the windows overlooking the street to see if she could see anything unusual. It was after seven now, but it was midsummer and still light, and people strolled about heading to pubs and restaurants. Everything looked perfectly normal. Although she hated to admit it, she was seriously disturbed. She needed to have people around her, and despite her reservations, the best person to speak to was Alex.

  The premonition was right. Something was coming, and she thought it might be connected to Gil.

  ***

  Avery entered The Wayward Son and made her way to the bar, catching Alex’s eye. His eyes widened quickly with surprise and he headed over, a look of concern on his face. “What’s happened? You’re as white as a sheet.”

  Avery lowered her voice and leaned in, although with the noise in the pub she doubted anyone could hear. “I don’t know, if I’m honest. A weird, supernatural wind flew around my flat when I was looking at Gil’s family tree, and I felt something there. A presence. I think I’ve found something.” So close to Alex, she could smell the faint scent of his aftershave and resisted the urge to inhale deeply.

  He fell silent for a second and then pulled a menu from the side of the bar. “Are you hungry?”

  “Starving, actually.” She realised she hadn’t eaten since lunch.

  “Grab a seat in the back room, and I’ll come and take your order. I should be able to join you.” He added, “It’s on the house.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous, I’m happy to pay.”

  He pushed a glass of wine into her hands. “Just sit and look at the menu! I’ll be with you soon.”

  Avery snaked though the crowded pub to the room at the back she had passed through the previous night. It was quieter here, and a few tables were free. She wondered if Alex had cast a spell to keep it that way. She sat at a small table under the window looking out on the courtyard garden and wearily sipped her wine, trying to shake her mood.

  The menu was in front of her, but she gazed out at the courtyard, thinking about what the incident in the flat could have meant. She ran through various scenarios but kept coming back to black magic, and wondered if someone knew what she had found. Or rather, what Anne had found.

  A few minutes later, Alex sat opposite her and plonked a pint of beer on the table. “What you having?” He nodded at the menu.

  She picked it up. “I haven’t looked. What do you recommend?”

  He didn’t hesitate. “The steak.”

  “Sounds good.” She pushed her chair back, “I’ll go and order.”

  “No!” He waved her down. “I’ll get one, too. Medium rare okay?”

  “Fine.” She was too tired to argue, and decided that letting him order would be the easiest thing to do. If she was honest, she wasn’t sure she should be here telling him anything. She wasn’t sure she trusted him.

  When he came back, he said, “Go on then. What happened?”

  She wasn’t sure where to begin. “How well do you know Gil?”

  He just looked at her for a few seconds, confused. “As well as you do, I suppose. Why?”

  “Do you know anything about his family?”

  “Not really, other than they’re super rich and he’s got a huge house. And a rich magical legacy, obviously.” He leaned closer and dropped his voice. “What’s this about?”

  “Do you trust him?”

  “As much as I trust anyone.”

  “I found a photo in Anne’s collection of notes. It was a photo of Gil’s home, very old, black and white, and scrawled on the back was a line saying, ‘the real Jacksons.’ It freaked me out, so I went through Anne’s family tree on Gil, and I found that he’s not the real heir. He’s descended from the second son. His great-uncle Addison’s family should have inherited everything.”

  “Okay, that’s slightly weird, but maybe Addison was bad news, or he argued with his parents and was disinherited.” Alex looked slightly disappointed. “Is that all?”

  Avery persisted. “But there’s no death date for either him, his wife, or his kids. That is weird. And it was right after I read that, that this hideous wind rolled around my flat and it went really dark. Something was in there with me.”

  “It didn’t hurt you?”

  “No, I summoned light and blasted the flat with it, but it made me jump. That’s not normal.”

  He shrugged. “We’re not normal. But yes, it’s weird. And no dates of death?”

  Avery shook her head.

  “Also weird, but maybe Anne had trouble finding their records.” He leaned back in his chair watching her for a few seconds, and then he gazed out of the window, thinking.

  “And another thing,” Avery added. “There were signs of protection around Anne’s house when I went yesterday. Well, at the front door, anyway.”

  “Is there anything else you’ve neglected to tell me so far?” Alex asked, a dangerous edge to his voice.

  “No!” she shot back. “I don’t think so, anyway.”

  “I may not have been around for a while, but I am quite trustworthy, you know!” Alex frowned. “While you’re in the mood to share, would you like to tell me exactly why I piss you off so much?”

  “You’re very sensitive. You don’t piss me off.” That wasn’t strictly true, but she was buggered if she was going to explain.

  “Liar,” he smirked.

  “If the rest of the evening is going to be spent like this, I’ll go!” Avery went to push her chair back and felt it locked in position. She glared at him and said in a low, threatening voice, “Release my chair right now!”

  “No. Food’s coming, and I don’t want to eat alone.”

  One of the bar staff headed over, grinning. “Here you go, two steaks. Bon appetite, boss!” He nodded at Alex and left them to it.

  At the smell and sight of the food, Avery thought she might die soon if she didn’t eat and picked up her knife and fork. “Do you pin all your dates to the chair like this?”

  “I didn’t think this was a date,” he grinned.

  “Oh, sod off and let me eat.” She cut a large wedge of steak and took a bite.

  They fell silent for a few seconds while they ate, and Alex looked deep in thought. “Why don’t I help you look tomorrow? We’d work quicker together, and there’s safety in numbers.”

  Before she could answer, her phone rang and she pulled it out of her bag. She frowned at the unknown number. “Sorry, I better get this. Hi, Avery from Happenstance Books. Can I help?”

  “Hi Avery, great. It’s Paul, Anne’s son. I’ve found something else Anne wanted you to have.”

  Avery looked up at Alex, and almost stumbled over her words. “Oh, that’s great. Is it more books?”

  Alex watched her carefully as he continued, and she mouthed at him, It’s Paul.

  “Well, no actually,” Paul answered. “I don’t think so, anyway. I’ve found a big box in the attic with your name on it. It’s all taped up, so I haven’t disturbed it. Do you want to come and get it? Maybe tomorrow?”

  “Yes, perfect. What about ten in the morning?” she said, thinking she could do with a small lie in.

  “Excellent. See you then.” He rang off before she could ask anything else.

  “Well?” Alex asked.

  “This is getting really weird. Anne’s left me something else. A box in her attic with my name on it!”

  “Well, I’m coming with you, so you’d better pick me up.” He looked at her and grimaced. “Don’t argue. It could be a trap. You have no idea who this Paul guy is, or if he knows something.”

  “If he was going to attack me, he could have done that yesterday. But,” she added, seeing his mutinous expression, “I’ll pick you up anyway.”

  “Unless you stay here tonight. It’s probably safer.”

  She shook her head, thinking that staying with Alex would be far too intimate. “No, I’ll be fine. The cats will keep me company.”

  As if he’d read her mind, he said, “I’ll be on the couch.”

 
“Yes, you would be!” she said haughtily, “But honestly, I’m okay. Thank you.”

  He grinned, “Another time, then. In the meantime, have another glass of wine and tell me about this Paul guy and everything you haven’t told me so far.”

  5

  If Paul was shocked or disappointed to see two of them at his door the next morning, he didn’t show it. “Come in! Two of you. Great idea. That box is big and heavy—I couldn’t get it down the attic stairs. I’ve found a few other things, too.”

  Alex shook his hand. “Nice to meet you, Paul. Lead the way.”

  Paul led them upstairs and along dusty corridors. The decorating, like downstairs, was old fashioned and floral, and through open doors they could see dusty bedrooms and an out dated bathroom. Both of them were on their guard, but Avery was aware of Alex’s solid presence behind her, which was very comforting.

  At the end of one corridor was a small door almost hidden in the panelling around it. “They liked to the disguise their attic doors years ago,” he said by way of explanation. It creaked as he opened it, and they followed him up the bare, wooden steps.

  As soon as they reached the attic door, Avery felt the gentle pull of a magic spell and she glanced around uneasily. The attic was dim and shadowy, lit only by very small windows that at the moment were on the wrong side of the house to catch the morning sun. Paul flicked on the light switch and a single, bare bulb in the middle of the room lit up the space. It was filled with lots of old crap from what Avery could see. Old chairs, broken furniture, and boxes and boxes of stuff. He led them to a box in the far corner.

  “Here you go. It wasn’t until you’d left on Friday that I read Anne’s note again. She’d left me a list of who’s to get what in the will,”’ he explained, looking harassed. “I have quite a few things to give to others—you know, jewellery and stuff. She said there were a couple of boxes, as well as the books for you, and I had to come searching for them. I wasn’t planning to come up here for a while, so it’s lucky I read her instructions again.”