Saige walked through the fog with slow, stumbling steps. The track through the Hauteville Woods was narrow at the best of times, but with the rain, poor light, and coastal wind gusting through the trees, Saige had to be careful of every step. The tree roots were thick and overgrown. Leaves slipped out beneath her boots, causing her to slide across the mud like an amateur figure skater. She gasped, unsure whether the water running down the back of her neck was sweat or rain.
Damn you, Jasper Young. Damn you!
Her blood frothed like a caffeinated energy drink. She’d purposefully avoided Jasper in the house. He hadn’t changed. He was still the immature, womanising player he’d always been. Shame pounded through her, a jackhammer straight to the heart. In the gazebo, Jasper had looked at her like he’d rediscovered his world, like she was a missing piece to a jigsaw. But there were many pieces in a jigsaw, and she was just another unmemorable part. Women were a conquest to him. She had to remember that.
Saige had seen him waiting by the window in the drawing room, probably scanning the lawns in search of her. Huh! She’d taken an alternate route past the garden and through the old servants’ entrance in the back courtyard. She’d grabbed a spare flashlight someone had stored in the kitchen, found a rain jacket—she didn’t know whose—and took the back exit out of the house into the Hauteville Woods.
Saige had been proud of her secret breakaway, but now that she was alone in the woods, apprehension did a queasy tap dance in her stomach. The trees loomed over her. Grey clouds coasted over the sun. It was nothing more than a milky coin in the sky, shadows and gloom prevalent throughout the foliage.
Don’t be afraid. Focus on what’s important here. Harriette is missing.
She knew Harriette would have taken this track through the woods late yesterday afternoon. It was the most direct route from Aunt Prue’s house to Wolvercraft Manor. She remembered the chilling message from last night.
“She. Knows. She. Knows. She. Knows.”
Saige didn’t understand what it meant, but she knew it had something to do with Harriette. The doctor had wanted to talk to her last night. She’d discovered something.
Something that must have put her in harm’s way.
Saige had to reach her aunt’s house. Aunt Prue would be so distressed.
The police might even be there.
She couldn’t let her aunt go through that alone, but just in case something terrible had happened to Harriette last night, Saige took her time through the woods. She searched the ground and surrounding trees with her flashlight, afraid of what she would do if she did find evidence of Harriette’s disappearance.
“Saige! Wait! What are you doing out here alone?”
She turned around, aghast.
Light shone through the trees ahead. The figure with the flashlight emerged from the fog.
Shit.
She was grateful that the rain hid the humiliated shade of red in her cheeks.
Jasper had failed to find a raincoat, but at least he was wearing sensible shoes. A pair of white sneakers that probably cost around two thousand pounds. Mud had already stained the laces.
Maybe not so sensible.
He blinked the rain out of his eyes. “What are you doing?”
The flashlight in her face blinded her for a second. She slapped it out of the way. “What do you think I’m doing? I’m searching for Harriette.”
He was quiet for a moment, his lower lip slack. “I’m pretty sure that’s the police’s job.”
“Really? Then where are they?”
“It hasn’t been twenty-four hours yet.”
“Harriette might not have twenty-four hours.”
He hung his head. “Saige, please. Come back to the house. Met Office is predicting another storm this afternoon that’s going to last well into the evening and possibly for the next few days. This rain bomb has everyone stumped.” He reached for her hand. “Let’s just go back to the house. We’ll tell the police what we know when they come asking.”
Saige took a step away. “Oh sure. You want to tell the police that Harriette was taken by a curse.”
Jasper laughed, but it lacked humour. “We don’t know that’s what happened. Come back to the house.”
“No.”
He dragged his hand down the side of his face. “You know, this is why your family think you’re a nutcase. Because you do impulsive, irrational things.”
Her lungs knotted, no air going in or out. “You know nothing about me.”
You made damn sure of that when you left.
She stormed down the track. She knew she was being unreasonable… but her aunt? Aunt Prue would need comfort. She’d be fretting and scared and alone. And Saige really wanted answers. She’d always wondered how people could throw themselves into dangerous and hopeless situations. Now she knew.
She heard Jasper’s heavy footsteps come after her in the rain. The scowl had faded from his face, but he still eyed her shrewdly. “You know what your problem is? You push everyone away. Your dad, your brother, your aunts—they all care about you, but you never give them a chance.”
She turned and snapped at him with cold fury. “I never pushed you away.”
He took a step back. Regret danced across his face. “What’s really going on, Saige? It’s more than ghosts and curses, isn’t it?”
She didn’t want to go there. Not with him. She hadn’t told a soul. Not her family, not the doctors or the psychologists. It had been far easier—and smarter—to let them think she was suffering a mental breakdown. But God, she was so tired of holding on to this secret. Dealing with it on her own, growing up with it, had sapped her of energy.
She looked at Jasper, really looked at him, her defences washed away with the rain. He’d seen two ghosts. He was one step closer to her than anyone else had been in her entire life.
Is this something I can tell him?
Her body quaked with nerves, her voice small and afraid. “Ever since my mother’s death, I’ve felt something around me. It’s this sense… this presence… watching me, never leaving me alone. And it feels evil. People say we make our own way in life. That we become what we think. But I don’t believe that’s the case for me. Jasper… I think I’m cursed.”
She waited for him to say something, and when he didn’t, she looked down at her feet, stiff and lonely in the rain. “Now do you think I’m crazy?”
Of course he does. I think you’re frigging crazy.
The hard lines on Jasper’s face softened. The saddest expression filled his eyes. “No. I think you’re lost and confused and… haunted.”
“Then help me find answers.”
He didn’t say anything.
Saige took the silence for a no, and her tone became more hostile than she intended. “Fine. Go back to the house. I’m going to Aunt Prue’s. Don’t try to stop me.”
She began her descent through the woods. A second later, she heard Jasper’s disgruntled sigh before the soles of his trendy sneakers squelched through the mud in pursuit.
* * *
True to Jasper’s word, the rain didn’t cease. It formed into a torrent, streaming down the trees and turning the mud into a running slush. They plodded heavily along the path, each step slow and cautious, their flashlights doing a poor job of showing them the way.
Great. The weather has done a superb job of hiding evidence.
A part of her wondered if it was the weather to blame or something else? Ashvall was no stranger to storms, but a continuous downpour like this in summer was uncommon.
It’s the house. Wolvercraft Manor doesn’t want us to leave.
It sounded crazy, but she knew it was true in her heart.
Every last ripple of warmth had vanished from Saige’s body. Her teeth chattered, and she worried that if the temperature plummeted farther, she and Jasper could very well be walking through snow. She didn’t talk to him at all—didn’t even look at him—but when their sleeves brushed, a strange, dicey warmth slipped through her.
Jasper blew warm air onto his fingers and rubbed his hands briskly together. He stilled, his eyes set on something ahead. “What are those?”
Saige turned her flashlight in the direction he pointed. A simple upright slab of stone with a gabled top protruded from the ground. There were other stone markers behind it with rounded and semicircular tops. One had a very distinct cross with a circle.
Saige threw a hesitant glance at Jasper, knowing he wasn’t going to like what she was about to tell him. “They’re tombstones.”
He stared at her for a moment. “Tombstones? As in… graves?”
“Yes, Jasper. What other kind of tombstones are there?”
A startled look crossed his face. “In the woods?”
Her shoulders slumped. She knew she was going to have to tell him the story. “The graves are centuries old. When they ran out of room in the Ashvall cemetery, people elected to have their loved ones buried in the woods. This is where the Wolvercrafts are. The graves haven’t been maintained in decades. It’s the reason why Dad never wanted me or Xav to go into the woods. He was afraid it would frighten us.”
She stared at the weeping, moss-covered stone sculptures—angels with their eyes closed or sleeping, which she knew was symbolism for a loved one who had passed away. Her mother had told her.
Jasper pointed to something over her shoulder. “And that?”
Saige turned and leapt back. “Jesus!”
A doll hung in a tree, its neck twisted. It was strung up with black nylon rope. The once polished white cheeks were covered in mud. Rusted stains had trickled from the glassy eyes, making it appear as though the doll had been crying. Its smiling face unnerved Saige.
She raised her flashlight. There were more dolls in the trees, some tied to the trunks, others dangling from branches. There were even teddy bears, their fake fur matted. Half of them looked like they’d been pecked at by birds.
Jasper steepled his hand over his mouth, perhaps about to be sick. “What the hell is this?”
Saige’s pulse resumed to a normal beat. “It’s an island custom. I didn’t think people still did this.”
“You mean like some sort of creepy voodoo shit?”
“No. The locals are superstitious. They believe the woods are home to witches and fairies. The old stories say fairies would steal children at night and offer them to the witches, so parents started to hang dolls in the trees. The idea being that the fairies would mistake the dolls for children and offer those to the witches instead. By the look of things, it’s still a custom people are following.”
“That’s insane.”
“It’s tradition. They probably just keep it up for the tourists. People love that kind of theatre. Even when it frightens them.”
She dragged her sleeve across her face in a poor attempt to wipe the rain from her eyes. “Come on. Aunt Prue’s place isn’t far.”
They resumed their trek, their path slanting diagonally through the trees. Ten minutes later, they came out to a cottage farmhouse that would have looked more at home in a snowglobe. A pebbled walkway led to a white porch, the house’s lower level constructed of stone, the upper storey built with decorative half timbering on the façade. Lattice sash windows and a thatched roof offered a rustic charm.
Saige knocked on the door, surprised when her aunt appeared, hair unbrushed, make-up smudged across her face, her Roaring Twenties attire crinkled from an uncomfortable sleep. The feather on her black headpiece had wilted. Saige thought it was a bad sign that her aunt hadn’t bothered to shower or get changed.
Aunt Prue’s face clouded with disapproval. “Saige? What are you doing here? You’re soaked. Does your father know about this?”
Saige swallowed an angry retort. She really wished people would stop treating her like she was nine years old. “Have you heard anything from Harriette?”
“No. Nothing. I’ve called the police.” Aunt Prue’s eyes settled briefly on Jasper. “At least you didn’t come alone. Come on. Inside, the pair of you. Out of this rain.”
Saige stepped inside, took off her sodden rain jacket, and hung it on the coat stand. She hadn’t been to her aunt’s house since she was a child. The place seemed to have been stored in a time capsule. Nothing had changed. A nautical theme ran through the entire hallway into the main lounge. Coastal paintings hung on the walls, all of them watercolours Saige was positive would have been purchased from the local art gallery. Dried starfish and little rustic sailboats decorated the mantelpiece. Every bit of furniture was wood, painted in white or ivory. Even the cushions were themed, navy blue with little compass points printed in white.
Aunt Prue directed them to a plush sofa. “Make yourselves comfortable. I’ll put on the kettle. Heaven knows I need caffeine.”
Jasper dropped unceremoniously onto the couch. He passed an appreciative glance at Saige. “This is nice. I’m digging the beach theme. I’m a little over Wolvercraft’s The Munsters meets The Addams Family vibe, if you know what I mean.”
Saige settled in an armchair. She remembered visiting her aunt as a child, sitting in this chair on long summer nights and reading about the local fairy tales of Ashvall. The recollection of those stories now made her blood solidify in her veins.
Aunt Prue returned with a silver tray, a pot of tea, cups and saucers, and a neat plate of biscuits. Saige found it strange that even with her house guest missing, Aunt Prue still found the energy to play hostess. She smiled, but it was strained. “Tea?”
Saige nodded.
Jasper’s eyes lit up. He took a biscuit—something chocolate coated—devoured it in one mouthful, then grabbed two more.
Saige shot him a look.
“What? I’m hungry. I haven’t eaten today.”
She ignored him and focused on her aunt. Aunt Prue’s fingers were trembling. She struggled to pour the tea. The steaming liquid pooled over the cup onto the saucer.
“Let me help.” Saige took over. She made three cups of tea and settled back into her chair, then took a sip. It needed milk and sugar. “What did the police say?”
Aunt Prue rubbed a shaky hand across her mouth. “They’re on their way. They want to talk to me and look through Harriette’s things. They suspect something may have happened to her in the storm last night.”
Jasper straightened. “They’ll probably put a search party together.”
“I honestly don’t know. Ashvall’s police force is small, and with all this rain, I doubt the Guernsey police force will be able to assist. The island is cut off.” Aunt Prue blew into a handkerchief. “They told me to keep ringing Harriette’s mobile and see if she answers. It’s switched off. I’m keeping my phone on charge just in case she rings, but I have no hope that she will. Oh, Saige. What if something terrible happened? What if Harriette got caught in the storm last night? If she took the path through the woods, she could have slipped and fallen. There have been landslides in the woods before.” Her eyes grew wide and alarmed. “You didn’t take that track down here, did you? You took the road?”
Saige swallowed. “Of course.”
Jasper looked down at his tea and didn’t comment.
Aunt Prue gnawed on her lower lip. “Good. That’s good.” Her eyes travelled around the room, as though she hoped Harriette might pop out from behind a furniture piece. A single tear leaked from her right eye. “Another storm is expected this afternoon.”
Saige put her cup and saucer down and moved to sit with her aunt. “Did Harriette say anything to you yesterday that seemed… odd? Something that could explain why she’s missing.”
Saige watched her aunt closely. She was certain Harriette’s disappearance had nothing to do with the weather. It was the curse. Dr Reynolds had learned something she wanted to convey to Saige, but the curse had gotten to her first.
“She. Knows. She. Knows. She. Knows.”
The words tormented Saige.
Aunt Prue shook her head. “She was excited to be attending the party. That’s all I remember.”
“Have you been through her things?” Saige pressed. “Maybe there’s something there?”
“Only very briefly. I don’t want to intervene with Harriette’s things. If something happened… of a crime sort… I don’t want to tamper with potential evidence. I’ll leave that for the police.”
The police. Who are on their way.
Saige knew she was going to have to act quickly if she wanted to find answers.
She stood and wrapped a comforting arm around her aunt’s shoulders. “Why don’t you shut your eyes and have a rest? Jasper can watch over you and answer the door when the police arrive.”
“Yes. That’s sounds like a nice idea. Thank you.”
Saige grabbed the blanket draped over the back of the sofa and tucked it around her aunt. “I’m just going to duck to the bathroom. Tea and rainwater have made my bladder weak.”
She passed a knowing look toward Jasper, hoping he understood the gesture.
Outside in the hall, she ran silently up the stairs. Just as she made it onto the landing, the hall light went out. Saige fiddled with the switch. On and off, on and off, as though flicking it enough times would make it do something different.
Great. Now Aunt Prue’s house has lost power.
She imagined the entire island had.
Saige continued down the hall but didn’t turn into the bathroom. Instead, she found the guest bedroom and slipped inside.