Avery and Alex pulled to a halt on a quiet street in a housing estate in Carlyon Bay, just to the north of Charlestown.
It had been years since Avery had visited Charlestown, and she had forgotten what a charming place it was. They had driven through it before heading to Ethan James’s house, passing the Shipwreck Treasure Museum. It was obviously closed, but it was a large place, very well maintained, and it also had a clay mines exhibit, too.
“Maybe we should visit the museum tomorrow,” she suggested as she settled herself in the passenger seat of her van, ready to watch James’s house. Alex had offered to drive, and she was pleased to not have to concentrate on the drive.
He shook his head. “I’m giving up on museum visits. Whatever’s going on now certainly won’t be advertised in there.”
“I guess you’re right,” Avery admitted, feeling like they were still clueless. “I think this might be useless, too. What if he sits inside all night? We’ll learn nothing.”
“If nothing happens tonight, we come back tomorrow.” He turned to her, and she saw his frown in the light from the street lamp. “Jasmine was his cousin. It’s too much of a coincidence. Potentially, if he’s involved, he’ll be laying low tonight.”
“Do you think he was there when she died?”
“Perhaps. If he was, he might be terrified. It could spell the end of whatever’s going on.”
Avery stared down the street, not really focussing on the houses in front of her, instead imagining the mangled body of Jasmine. “So far, all of this is happening on the south coast. I’m a bit baffled as to why Perranporth is involved.”
“It’s an almost straight run across the country. Maybe whoever hid this treasure wanted to spread it around in an effort to confuse anyone who might search for it. Well, other than those who were meant to find it.”
“So, you think Ethan has stumbled upon a map or clues or something?”
“He must have!” Alex barked a laugh. “This is so suburban, though. It’s hard to think there’s skulduggery among the hedgerows!”
“I guess his house is at least a bit more secluded,” Avery noted. “But you’re right. A nosey neighbour would spot something.”
“I’ve already noted twitching curtains,” Alex confessed. “Let’s throw a veil of illusion over the van, before someone calls the police on us.”
They combined their magic, and with a whoosh, a shadow swept over them, and by mutual agreement they fell into silence to watch the house. Unfortunately, an hour later, nothing had happened, except someone had walked past with their dog.
“I can’t even see a light on in the house,” Avery said, feeling restless and stretching the kinks out of her shoulders.
“Maybe he’s out.”
“Or we’re too early for him to be going out, and he’s lurking in a back room.” Avery glanced at her watch. “It’s close to half past eleven. Maybe we should head to Fowey and come back here later.”
“Agreed,” Alex said. He turned the engine on and pulled out, and Avery quickly dropped the spell.
Avery studied the isolated spot as Alex parked. The National Trust car park in Fowey was situated down a country lane, offering access to the woods, walks, and the coastal path. It was pitch black outside, and they were completely alone. When they stepped out of the van, Alex flashed his torch around. A light breeze blew off the sea, and the land seemed hushed around them.
He lowered his voice, seemingly hesitant to disturb the silence. “This will be a tricky walk in the dark to the castle.”
“I could fly us there.”
Alex’s tone dripped with sarcasm. “Fantastic. I’m so glad you learned to fly.”
She poked him in the ribs. “I’m very useful, you know that!”
“That’s the only reason I keep hold of you,” he teased her, kissing the top of her head affectionately. “And maybe a few other things.”
“You’re so cheeky, Mr Bonneville!”
“I know. Isn’t that why you love me?”
“Most of the time. Your cooking helps.”
He laughed at that, but a wild cry disturbed the night, and Avery whirled around.
“It’s just a fox,” Alex reassured her, “from over the fields.”
“Of course,” she said, feeling like a fool. “Sorry, I’m jumpy!”
They walked to the start of the track that led to the cliff top, and the moon edged from behind a cloud, lighting the landscape.
Alex gave a small cheer, and she could hear the relief in his voice. “We can see enough in this light. I think we should walk some of it, or at least head into the woods first. Miles was here for a reason. We need to find it.”
“Agreed,” Avery said, “but I also know you’re avoiding witch-flight.”
“So would you if it made you sick.”
She laughed, and pointed in the direction of Coombe Farm Bed and Breakfast. “Let’s head that way. The path will lead us through the woods to the coastal path and the castle.”
Alex turned his torch off, and once beneath the trees, the night sounds erupted around them. They both draped themselves in shadows and progressed quietly, Avery raising her awareness as she searched for any sign of magic. They had been walking for several minutes when she detected a strange energy.
She placed her hand on Alex’s arm. “Do you feel that?”
“I think so,” he said cautiously.
She grabbed his hand. “Come on.”
Their progress slowed as the path began to get harder to find in the dark, but she followed what increasingly felt like wild magic, finally plunging into the undergrowth.
“This way.”
“We’re going off the path!”
“The magic is getting stronger! I have to follow it,” she whispered back, afraid to break the spell that seemed to have fallen around them.
Without another word she forged onwards, fighting past branches and tripping over tree roots until they came to a clearing that led to the sea. She could see the moonlight on the waves and hear the crash of the surf, and still following the wild magic, headed closer to the coast before veering back into a dense patch of trees. She finally halted in front of a jumble of huge boulders.
“What’s going on?” Alex asked, turning on his torch again.
“Can’t you feel it? We’re surrounded by old magic—ancient magic! It’s at its most powerful here!”
“I don’t know how you do that,” Alex confessed. “I don’t feel it as strongly as you.” He played his torch across the area before them. “You know, this looks like a collapsed tower to me, or a folly?”
Avery squinted at the jumble of stones. “You might be right!”
“Okay. You focus on the magic, I’ll hunt around.”
Avery quieted her mind, wishing Briar were with them, as she was more attuned to the earth. She slipped her boots off, wriggled her toes into the loam, and then lifted her arms to call the air, her most powerful element. For a moment, she tuned out the soft scurrying of night creatures, the barks of the foxes, and even the sounds of the surf, and enveloped herself within the two elements. The earth warmed her feet and the air caressed her cheek, carrying the promise of secrets about to be uncovered. And then she felt a current of damp, stale air trickling somewhere ahead of her, and something hollow beneath her feet.
Terrified she would lose the sensations if she moved too quickly, she waited, slowing her breathing and letting her awareness strengthen, like a signal. The scent of musty air escaping from somewhere beneath the earth grew stronger and Avery walked, almost in a dream state towards it. She ignored the sharp stones beneath her feet, winding around the rocks until she came to the far side. Again, she felt the wild magic swell around her.
Alex had completed his search and followed her cautiously, and now he stopped too, flashing his torch around. “What have you found?”
She pointed a couple of feet away to the base of a block of stone. “I feel something hollow beneath us, and I think the entrance is there. It must be a tunnel!”
The scent of things long buried was stronger now.
Avery went to advance, but Alex’s arm flew out to stop her. “Wait.” He trod forward, carefully testing the ground with his weight, and examining the earth underfoot before he nodded. “Okay, it feels fine.”
“Stand back. I’m going to use air to move that. I’m sure there’s an entrance beneath it.”
“It’s huge! Are you sure you can?”
She nodded, excitement stirring her blood. “I’m sure.”
They scooted back several feet, and then Avery gathered wind around her, directing it forward and shaping it like a giant lever. She had never used her magic quite like this before, but her intent was clear. Slowly, the stone trembled and moved as the edge lifted slightly. As the balance started to change, she levered more forcefully until it tipped and rolled, revealing a narrow rift in the ground ahead.
Caspian stirred in bed, wondering for a second where he was. The bed felt different, as did the space around him, and he experienced a moment of confusion before remembering he was at Reuben’s place.
Ugh. Briar’s potion was strong! But, to be fair, it was just what he needed. He hadn’t slept well for days, and he needed deep, healing sleep. But, it was certainly too early to get up now. It was still dark outside. He squinted at the clock next to him. 1:00am. Crap. Why the hell was he awake now? He flopped back down on the pillow, relieved that the pain from his stab wound was now a dull ache rather than something sharp, and he felt stronger. Whatever residual effects the fight had caused, Briar had cleared them out. She really was an excellent healer.
Caspian squeezed his eyes shut in an effort to block out thoughts of the last few days, causing stars to speckle his vision. He couldn’t believe he was sleeping in Reuben’s home, or that he hadn’t heard from Estelle yet. Although, he shouldn’t really be surprised. He had let his temper get the best of him. He was used to her digs and scathing mockery. Nothing ever pleased her. But the comment about Avery was simply one too many.
Avery.
It didn’t matter what he did, his thoughts always circled back to her. He saw her in his mind’s eye. Her pale, freckle-dusted skin, red hair, and laughing green eyes. She was strong, yet so kind, and he saw a determination within her not to give up on their friendship, despite his feelings. A dull ache returned in his heart. That kind of thinking would do no good.
A strange noise disturbed his thoughts, and suddenly awake, he sat up in bed. But the room was silent, and he felt the weight of the protection spell wrapping around the house like a warm blanket. Earlier that evening, they had combined their magic, adding another layer of protection that repelled ghosts. Nothing was entering Reuben’s house uninvited.
He heard the noise again, but it was coming from the garden. He got out of bed and padded to the window, pulling back the heavy curtains to look over the long lawns at the back of the house. The noise was louder there, a kind a whispering or shushing that had nothing to do with the surf crashing on the cliffs at the garden’s edge. Something shimmered to his right, and he focussed on the glasshouse, dappled in moonlight. A spectral body emerged from the shadows, accompanied by a dull clinking. It seemed to limp, or rather, lurch across the garden. And then there was another, and another. They were half-formed ghosts that seemed to hover between worlds. One of them looked up and Caspian stepped back, alarmed, but it was too late. It had seen him, and it fixed him with a malignant grin as a shaft of moonlight fell on it fully.
It was the ghost of a smuggler, dressed in nineteenth-century clothes, the glint of metal in his hands, and fire in his eyes. Next to him, his fellow looters lined up, half a dozen in all, looking up at his window. Then they separated as they made their way towards the house.
Caspian’s mouth went dry. They were planning to attack.