Avery examined the grim faces of the members of the Witches Council who sat around the long, wooden table at Crag’s End.
Not all of the members were present. Claudia had sent her apologies, as had Charlie from Polzeath, Hemani from Launceston, and Gray from Bude. Estelle was there in place of Caspian, her eyes narrowed with annoyance. The windows were open, allowing a warm breeze to circulate around the room, and it carried the scent of roses and lavender from the garden.
Avery had just related the events of the afternoon, and every single member was looking at her, most exhibiting worry, but Mariah and Zane clearly showed dislike. She shifted in her seat, uncomfortable with the level of attention she was getting.
Genevieve spoke after her, swinging her gaze to Estelle. “How is Caspian now?”
“Better,” she conceded, “but still weak. I’ve settled him at home, and renewed all of the protection spells—for whatever good they may be worth. My uncle is with him.”
“I’m glad to hear it.” Genevieve looked back at Avery. “It’s good you checked on him when you did. He might have died.”
“It’s lucky you asked me to,” she answered. “He was very weak. But it is odd. The spirits could have killed him at any time, and yet they didn’t. I don’t understand what’s happening.”
“Of course,” Zane said sharply, “there is only your word to go by on this.”
Avery was too tired to argue and just glared at him. “Oh, shut up, you idiot.”
Her disdain was more shocking than if she’d argued, and Zane’s mouth fell open in surprise.
Rasmus’s gravelly voice broke the stunned silence. “Well said. We trust each other in this group, and Avery has more than proven her worth here, as have the other White Haven witches, which is more than can be said for you, Zane.” Ignoring Zane’s furious face, Rasmus turned to Oswald, who was trying to conceal his amusement. “Oswald, I understand you have been looking into the death in Fowey?”
Oswald nodded. “The victim, a young man called Miles Anderson, was found on the beach, with pretty much every bone in his body crushed. His car was parked out of town, not too far from the coastal path.”
“Someone could have picked a fight with him and then pushed him over the cliff,” Eve suggested.
“But,” Avery said, “Newton thinks the fall wasn’t enough to have broken so many bones. And there was no sign of a struggle at the top. They searched quite a large area, I gather.”
Oswald continued. “The locals also report an increase in supernatural activity. Nothing concrete, of course, and certainly no ghosts looking like sailors! Just rumours about piskies. But they did say that the young man had been seen about town recently, and hanging around the castle ruins.”
“He could have been looking for something,” Rasmus suggested thoughtfully. “But it really doesn’t give us much to go on.”
Eve was sitting opposite Avery, and she looked at her sadly. “I’m really sorry to hear about the policewoman. That’s awful.”
Avery had updated them on all of the recent news, and she smiled at Eve. “Thanks. I hardly knew her, but it is terrible, and it sounded as if Newton was upset. I’m hoping he’s at the pub now, speaking to Alex.”
“There are several things worrying me,” Genevieve said. “Obviously, these unnaturally strong spirits, and what could be a very destructive supernatural creature. They both seem to have appeared very recently. Simultaneously.” Her arms were resting on the table in front of her, and she leaned on them, staring at Avery. “Tell me what Newton saw, again.”
“Well, I only know what I heard via Alex, but he said that something scuttled down the tunnel, something small. He hit it with his torch, but didn’t get a clear picture of it because it was too dark. But if he hit it, then it’s not a spirit.”
“But you said you felt the spirit’s hands around your throat earlier,” Zane said, “and that one picked Reuben up. Therefore, it must have some physical presence. It could have been a ghost that Newton encountered!”
Avery looked at Zane’s accusatory glare and nodded. “It’s possible. But Newton is a policeman, which makes him very observant, and he reacts well under stress. If he thinks it wasn’t a spirit—and he’s seen enough of them—then I trust him.”
Jasper intervened. “We can’t forget that these events are linked to treasure. Guineas were thrown at Avery, there were some at Caspian’s house, a few were left when Reuben was attacked, and one was placed in Miles Anderson’s mouth. It’s seems pretty obvious to me that someone has found buried treasure and disturbed some spirits…and they are seeking revenge.”
“Miles?” Genevieve asked. “Or someone else?”
“It could have been Miles,” Oswald said. “Potentially he, and maybe someone else, found the buried treasure, and that’s why he was killed. This has to be about smugglers! We all know there were a lot of them in Cornwall.”
“Absolutely,” Genevieve agreed, nodding.
Oswald looked puzzled. “I’m confused that there are both doubloons and guineas, but there must be a connection.”
“What about witches?” Rasmus looked at Estelle. “Why was Caspian targeted? Did your family clash with smugglers in the past?”
Estelle rolled her eyes. “I have no idea, Rasmus! You’re talking about a few hundred years ago. It’s possible, I suppose.”
“You were, and are, shipping merchants,” Avery told her. “I think it’s very likely you would have clashed about shipments.” She turned to the rest of the table. “Reuben has caves under his grounds, and a long passage leading to Gull Island. We know his family was involved in smuggling. But, we don’t know if they clashed with a particular group. Reuben has already started to look into it.”
Rasmus grunted. “I think you should do the same, Estelle. Your life may depend on it.”
She nodded, stiffly. “I will, but I’d be very surprised if we worked with the Jacksons.”
“So would Reuben,” Avery said, dryly. She caught Eve’s eye and suppressed a grin.
“Mariah,” Genevieve said abruptly. “What do you know about the cave collapse in Looe?”
Mariah looked surprised at being addressed. She normally remained as quiet as possible. “Only what has appeared on the news. The locks on the wooden chests found in the bottom of the cave were recently smashed, and there were the remains of three bodies found—very old ones, obviously. Looe, like everywhere else, has an extensive smuggling history. One of our most notorious smugglers was Cruel Coppinger.”
Avery watched her while she talked, not wanting to reveal that she’d seen her photo at Jamaica Inn’s Smuggling Museum. She also hadn’t told the group about a witch walking the spirit world. If it was someone around this table, she certainly didn’t want to alert them to the fact that she knew, or that Alex had walked there, too. She glanced around the rest of the table, but no one looked guilty or worried at all.
Mariah was warming to her subject as she continued to address the group. “He didn’t earn the name ‘Cruel’ for no reason. He and his posse beheaded a revenue officer. He was considered almost supernatural. His gang was called the Cruel Gang, too. They controlled much of this part of the coast.”
Avery recalled her earlier conversation with her regulars at the shop. “Including White Haven and Harecombe.”
“Yes,” Mariah confirmed.
“Why was he considered supernatural?” Eve asked.
“He arrived in the middle of a storm, his ship breaking up on the shore. The locals had come to watch the wreck, as they often did, hoping for bounty, and he strode out of the waves, leapt up behind a local woman on her horse, and absconded with her. This was on the north coast, not the south. She became his wife—somewhat unwillingly, I gather,” she said, eyebrows raised. “Anyway, he was huge, Danish—a Viking striding out of the past. Some called him a demon.”
“You seem to know a lot about him,” Oswald said. “Do I recall correctly that you gave something to the Smuggling Museum once?”
She nodded, unconcerned. “One of Zephaniah Job’s ledgers. He was the smuggler’s banker, and very good at it apparently. My grandfather was fascinated with smuggling, and an old friend left him all his papers when he died. He found the ledger in the collection and was determined to donate it. Most of them had been destroyed in a fire after Job died, probably deliberately. I just organised it. He told me all sorts of tales as a child. And of course, Cruel Coppinger is well known in Looe. We have a pub named after him.” Mariah smiled, looking at everyone’s expectant faces. “And what’s more intriguing is the manner of his end. He just disappeared into the sea one night, and was never seen again.”
“Drowned?” Eve asked.
Mariah shrugged. “A ship was seen anchored offshore, and he rowed out to it on a small boat.”
Avery leaned back in her chair. “That’s intriguing. So he has no grave here?”
“No. But plenty of his gang would have had burials here. I’m just not sure where they would be.”
“This could be related to him, even with that enigmatic exit,” Genevieve said. “I’m just wondering what could have set this whole thing off. Something must have happened recently.”
Avery said, “White Haven Museum is putting together a new exhibition about smuggling. It’s not open to the public yet, so I have no idea what they’re planning to show, but maybe that has something to do with it.”
“Very possible,” Genevieve said, nodding. “Perhaps a researcher discovered something they shouldn’t have.” She looked around the table. “We need to work together on this. Anything that we can find out could be valuable. Reuben and you, Estelle, should check your family histories carefully.”
Estelle didn’t look impressed at being given instructions by Genevieve, and she gave an abrupt nod of acknowledgement.
Genevieve’s gaze swept around the table. “Is there anything else before we go?”
The council members shook their heads, and Avery noticed many of them appeared worried by the turn of events.
“All right,” she said with a sigh. “In the meantime, I suggest we all watch our backs, and enhance our protection spells until we know what we’re up against.”
Alex poured Newton another pint and set it in front of him, concerned about his friend. Concerned about both of his friends, actually.
Reuben sat on the barstool next to Newton, nursing his own pint. He was stoic regarding his injury, but every now and again he winced, and he used his left arm to pick up his pint, not his right. El sat next to him, casting him surreptitious, worried glances. Briar was next to Newton, her dark eyes that were now ringed with emerald fire, were full of concern.
On Tuesday nights the pub was usually half-empty, and tonight was no different. They had the freedom to talk easily without being overheard by anyone other than Zee, and Alex didn’t mind him listening. Newton had arrived an hour ago, looking more depressed than Alex had ever seen him, and he leaned on the bar, struggling to maintain his composure. Since he’d arrived, he’d run through a range of emotions, from fury, sadness, and frustration, to feeling like a failure, and now he’d settled into a brooding determination to avenge Inez’s death.
“And worst of all,” Newton said, talking to his pint rather than meeting their eyes, “we didn’t even find one scrap of evidence to indicate who might have broken into those old chests. It was all a fucking waste of time.”
Briar squeezed Newton’s arm. “It feels like that now, but we will find out what did this.”
Newton turned his troubled grey eyes on her. “We better. I feel sick.”
Alex glanced up as he saw Avery arrive, her face pensive but also determined, and he relaxed at the sight of her. He turned automatically to grab a wine glass and pour her favourite red wine, and by the time she’d drawn up her stool, he slid it in front of her. She smiled at him and murmured her thanks before turning to Newton. “Newton, I am so sorry about Inez.”
He brushed it off. “Thanks, but I won’t rest until I’ve caught who did this.” He shook his head. “She was starting a new life, post-divorce. She should have been safe here.”
Avery nodded. “Yes, she should have been. I have a feeling though that this could escalate even further.”
“Why? What happened at the meeting?” El asked, alarmed.
“Nothing there, particularly,” Avery confessed. “It’s just this general feeling I have. However, Oswald told everyone about the supernatural events around Fowey.”
“What events?” Newton asked straight away.
“Just local accounts of the feeling that spirits are in the area, and the idea that piskies are stirring up trouble. Oswald did say that most people thought it was just Cornish stuff and that it wasn’t anything to worry about, but…” She shrugged. “He did say there was a lot of speculation about the Spanish raids in the sixteenth century. Not surprising, really, after the doubloon.”
“But they were much further down the coast,” Alex said.
“Doesn’t stop them from talking!”
“Any issues anywhere else?” Alex asked, sensing that Avery had other news.
She smiled at him, a gleam in her eye. “No one else has noticed anything unusual in their area. But Mariah told us about Cruel Coppinger.”
El nodded. “The smuggler we read about this morning?”
“The very same. He was a violent man with a violent gang, and she agreed with what a couple of my customers told me earlier. He was particularly active around here. He also had supernatural associations.” Her eyes widened with intrigue. “He arrived in a storm, a hulking Viking striding out of the waves, and left by the sea too, never to be seen again!”
“Viking?” Briar asked, confused.
“He was Danish, and also reputed to be demonic,” Avery added for good measure. “Although, that may have been to do with his size. He was massive, apparently.”
“Maybe ‘demonic’ is more to do with his cruelty,” Reuben suggested. “Either way, it’s interesting. It gives me something to look into in my own history.”
“Interesting is not the word I would use,” Newton said crossly. “Sounds like a bloody nightmare! Three people are now dead.”
The witches all fell silent, chastened, and Alex calmly said, “We haven’t forgotten that, Newton. But it is important that we have something to work on. We are as keen to avenge Inez’s death as you are.”
Newton nodded, briefly meeting his eyes, before staring into his pint.
“There’s something else,” Avery said quickly. “Oswald asked Mariah about the donation to the museum. She says her grandfather found the ledger, and she didn’t seem the slightest bit concerned at the question. In fact, apart from Zane being his usual grumpy self, no one looked remotely guilty or shifty.”
“You were thinking about the witch walking the spirit realm,” Alex said.
Avery nodded, slumping over the bar with her chin in her hands, and Alex realised what a long, busy day it had been. “I was,” she admitted. “But everyone looked normal!”
Newton drained his pint. “I can’t do this right now. I’m beyond tired and I need to sleep.” He stood, his stool scraping across the floor. “I also need to work out what was in that tunnel.”
“I hope you’re not planning to go back out there alone?” Briar asked him, suddenly alarmed.
“No. I’m going to bed. Aren’t you listening?”
“I mean tomorrow. Or the day after?” she said, trying to keep the impatience from her voice. “Whatever it was could still be there!”
“The whole place is lit up like a sodding Christmas tree now,” he said impatiently. “A police officer died! SOCO have been tramping around there. It’s been searched from top to bottom, and there’s nothing there. Nothing!” Newton was almost shouting, and Alex shot him a warning look. Suddenly aware of his surroundings, Newton lowered his voice again. “If you want to help me, find out what that creature was and how to kill it.”
Without waiting for a response, Newton left, and Briar made as if to move. “I should go after him.”
Alex leaned forward, placing a hand on her arm. “He needs to be alone. He knows we care.”
“Does he?” she asked, looking upset. “He didn’t look like it.”
“Of course he does,” Alex said softly. “Men deal with things differently. We rage and stomp about, but he knows. He just needs some time.”
“So, what are we going to do?” El asked. “I certainly don’t want to wait around and let Reuben get attacked again. I’ve finally persuaded him to stay at my flat!” She shot him an annoyed glance.
“For tonight only,” he told her. “I need to look at my family history, and I can’t do that at your place.”
“You could bring your books!” El said, continuing what was obviously an earlier argument.
“It’s not just my grimoires. It’s a whole load of books. I have a library, you know!”
“Do you?” Avery asked, looking surprised.
“Yes. I barely go in it,” he conceded, “but I figure there must be something useful in there.”
Alex couldn’t help but laugh. “Only someone who doesn’t like reading could look so underwhelmed at having his own library.”
He shrugged. “Sorry. I don’t even know what’s on the shelves.”
Avery’s mouth hung open, emitting a strangled cry. “What?”
“Wow. You’ve just committed the cardinal sin in Avery’s eyes,” Alex told him. He rubbed Avery’s shoulder. “It’s okay, babe. Don’t have a stroke.”
Avery looked at Reuben, horrified. “But Reuben, you could have first editions in there, and leather-bound masterpieces…”
“I could. I admit it, I’m a heathen. Feel free to check it out sometime.” He smiled at Avery, an attempt to appease her.
“This isn’t helping,” El said, narrowing her eyes at Reuben. “We need a plan! How do we find out what’s happening?”
“Well,” Alex said decisively, “I think this new exhibition in White Haven Museum is worth looking into. Let’s see if we can find out more about it; the theme, who’s organising it, etcetera. I know it’s not open yet, but we could visit the museum anyway, look around the other exhibits, and ask a few questions. I can go tomorrow morning.”
“Good idea,” El said. “I’ll come with you, while Reuben here fulfils his family history obligations.”
Alex was aware of Zee’s looming presence next to him, as he sidled closer. “May I make a suggestion?” he asked.
“Sure,” Alex said.
“You mentioned supernatural creatures. Why don’t you talk to Shadow? She’s kicking her heels around now, and driving us all mad,” he said, rolling his eyes. “She sees piskies on the moors. Perhaps she sees other things.”
“Piskies!” Briar said, amazed. “She’s never told us.”
Zee shrugged. “She doesn’t like to advertise it—and may not thank me for mentioning it—but it sounds like you need help.”
Briar nodded. “Thanks, Zee. I’ll call her first thing tomorrow.”
“In that case,” Avery said to Reuben brightly, “guess who’s helping you tomorrow?”
Reuben groaned. “You’re going to be such a task master!”
“Yes I am! It’s your own fault,” she admonished him, and Alex tried to suppress a smirk at her peremptory tone. “You should never have mentioned your library!”