Caspian walked around Reuben’s kitchen while he spoke to Gabe on the phone, moving gingerly so as not to aggravate his injury. “Are you sure there’s no damage?”
“None at all,” he reassured him. Gabe had phoned him to explain that the large warehouse in Harecombe was attacked by ghosts during the night, but the protection spells had held. “Barak and Niel said they could just about see them, and it was a half-hearted attempt only. I’m hoping they won’t bother again.”
“I think there must have been a dozen here last night, as well as the ones at my place earlier. How the hell many are there?”
Gabe grunted in his usual, non-committal way. “Hard to say. Depends what your ancestors got up to, doesn’t it?”
“Yes, it does,” Caspian conceded. “No injuries, then?”
“None. They sent the regular staff inside, so all good there.” Gabe fell silent a moment, and then asked, “Is there anything we should know about Estelle?”
“No, why?” Caspian answered quickly. What had she said now?
“Nothing, she’s just a bit, er, crankier than usual.”
“Well, that’s Estelle for you.” He refused to elaborate. He couldn’t, anyway. Who the hell knew what she was thinking right now?
Caspian heard Reuben enter the room, and he turned to see him head for the fridge, nodding at him in greeting. Caspian nodded back. Gabe continued to update him, telling him how he and Shadow had found a spriggan, as well. Caspian paused in front of the patio doors, not really noticing the fine drizzle starting to fall as he absorbed the news, and then they chatted about the business for a few more minutes before hanging up.
Reuben looked none the worse for his late night, and was busying himself getting bacon and eggs from the fridge. He glanced up at Caspian. “Breakfast?”
Caspian didn’t normally have breakfast, preferring only coffee before heading to the office, but this morning it appealed to him. Perhaps it was the overcast weather, or the odd, bunkered-down mood he found himself in, sharing Reuben’s house. He nodded. “Yes, please. Sounds great, actually.”
“Bacon and eggs always does. Did I hear you mention spriggans?”
He nodded and updated him on Shadow’s success with fey treasure.
Reuben paused, about to put the bacon in the frying pan. “Is she telling El?”
“Apparently, although she headed to Avery’s first.”
It was strange; he found himself reluctant to say Avery’s name, as if he might give his feelings away, but Reuben was too worried about El. And besides, he didn’t strike Caspian as the type to discuss love lives—or the lack of them. He doubted Reuben had ever had a lack of love life, ever. He watched his easy, laidback attitude, and noted he was like that with everyone, a subtle but supreme confidence in himself. Caspian exuded confidence too, and a tinge of arrogance—he’d been accused of it often enough—but he also knew that he didn’t always feel that way, and he doubted Reuben did, too.
Reuben just nodded and continued to cook. “Good. I’m worried about El, but she’s headstrong, and magically strong, so I have to trust her.”
“Have to?”
Reuben laughed. “Yes. But I do, anyway. Those bloody mines are dark and damp and treacherous though, so I’m glad Shadow can help.”
“I take it El and Briar are already at work?”
“Yeah.” Reuben sighed and met Caspian’s eyes, looking grim. “We have to find out what our ancestors did!”
Caspian refreshed his coffee cup and sat down at the wooden table in the corner of the room. “But what if we can’t? Does it matter?”
Reuben turned around, half an eye on the bacon, and slung a tea towel over his shoulder. “I suppose it depends on what we want to do, or can do.” He shifted his weight, leaning against the counter and waving the spatula as he spoke. “Virginia and Serephina cast a spell together to stop the Dane—we know that much. We assume that it was either to protect their businesses, the towns, or both.”
“Or could it be revenge for something? Someone who was hurt, or a business that was damaged?”
Reuben nodded. “Maybe, but whatever the motive, they acted together, in an unusual show of trust.”
“Unless, of course, at that point in our history, they actually were friends,” Caspian countered, amused by the thought.
Reuben gave a wry smile. “It’s possible.” And then his expression sobered. “But why not go to the Witch Council? That would be their obvious support, right?”
“Actually, I don’t think the council existed then. And remember, it was harder to communicate between towns far away. Penzance would have meant hours of travel, unless they went by boat. The roads were probably awful. Closer would have been better.” He tried to recall what his father had told him. “I don’t think the council existed until later on in the 1900s…not like it is now, anyway.”
“I guess it doesn’t matter,” Reuben reasoned. “But I do think the spell is important. It was designed to get rid of Coppinger, and it worked. He disappeared, and it looks like his men went with him. Piecing it together, they must have wrecked the ship he was trying to escape in. Some of his men would have been on that, but others would have been here, surely, continuing the business.”
Caspian nodded. “That would make sense. He had a big operation, was ruthless, and surely energetic, when you consider he was moving down from the north of Cornwall.”
Reuben turned to flip the bacon. “But Bodmin was the central hub. A network carried smuggled goods there from all over Cornwall, and then on to the rest of England. They would have all known each other—or of each other, at least.”
“And would have probably divided Cornwall between them.”
Reuben laughed. “But there’s clearly no honour among thieves, is there, if Coppinger was moving into other areas.”
“I would imagine he was universally disliked. Actually, hated is more likely. He terrified people.” Caspian had also been reading the books about smuggling that El and Avery had bought in Bodmin.
“You happy to have your bacon and eggs in a sandwich?” Reuben asked, already slicing crusty bread.
“Absolutely.”
Reuben plated their breakfast up and carried them to the table, where he took a seat, too. He had a large bite, sighing with satisfaction as he swallowed. “Awesome. So, I suggest we head up to my attic where my spell books are, take yours there too, and search them thoroughly. I honestly think the key to understanding what’s happening now is to understand what happened then.”
Caspian wiped crumbs from his mouth. “I’m not so sure it will help, but what else are we going to do, locked up in here all day?”
Reuben looked at him, surprised. “I really want to know what we did that was so bad we’re being targeted all these years later. It must have been the mother of all spells! Big juju! And frankly, I don’t want to be stuck in here for months.”
“Don’t worry, I’m in. Your hospitality is great, but I prefer my own bed.”
“Then let’s do this, Caspian. Come on, before we even go up there, in an exercise in narrowing down our search, if you were to stop a murderous madman who was terrorising the country and risking your business right now, what would you do?”
“What would you do?” Caspian asked, slightly affronted. “I’m not the only one with magic.”
“But I’m charming and guileless,” Reuben said, his blue eyes wide and a huge smirk on his face. “I haven’t got a mean bone in my body. You’re the sneaky shit here, with the family history of making curses and holding momentous grudges.”
Okay, so they were at this stage in their strange truce.
“Fair point,” he grudgingly conceded. He took another bite of his sandwich and leaned back in his chair, running through his options while he chewed. The word truce resonated, and an idea struck him. “Okay, I’m a rich businessman who needs to bring my shipments in, but the damn pirates are trying to scuttle my ships and steal my goods. The man at the root of all my troubles is also threatening the locals, forcing them to work for him, and generally making the place hell. So, rather than plan an outright attack, because he has a lot of men, I decide to make a truce. In exchange for a cut of my profits, he allows my ships free passage. But,” Caspian gave a victorious smile, “I double-cross him. But not just him…his gang, too. I invite him and his men to a neutral venue, and spring the trap—with your help.”
“Why not just kill him, or curse him from a distance?”
“Because I want to do this in one big hit,” Caspian countered. “And I want to know that it worked. I want to see it!”
Reuben nodded. “I like it. It’s logical. But what do you do to trap them?”
“I use a cave, a smuggling cave, or a storage place somewhere. It has to be close—for both of us. When they’re trapped, I either kill them immediately, or leave them to a horrible, slow death. As you observed,” Caspian said, cutting his eyes at Reuben, “I’m a vindictive bastard, so it will be some kind of curse-inflicted agony.”
“That would be far more likely,” Reuben agreed. “You are mean.”
“Well, you helped me! You have a lot to lose too, remember. White Haven is overrun with smugglers, and you’re losing money!”
“But the stories say that Coppinger was seen rowing out to sea in a storm. No, hold on, rowing out from an island in a storm, to his big ship, where he was never seen again.”
Caspian nodded. “True, but it could just be a fanciful story.”
“Or—” Reuben leapt to his feet and started pacing, and Caspian almost spilled his coffee in surprise. “That’s exactly what happened! Why come to Harecombe, across country? I’d bring my ship, Black Prince, and weigh anchor off the coast, bringing some of my men ashore. But not all of them, because, frankly, rumours have reached me that you are a sneaky, not-to-be-trusted-businessman. That’s kind of why I like you—we’re the same.”
“Thanks, I think.”
“Or, maybe I think this is a sign of weakness, and I decide to pounce.” He rounded on Caspian and pointed at him. “You are offering a truce, but I want it all. I am Cruel Coppinger, the demon smuggler, used to having my own way. I decide to attack you!”
Caspian had to admit he was enjoying this ridiculous role play. It was fun, and actually productive. Clearly Reuben thought so too, as he strode about his kitchen, swishing his spatula like a sword. Caspian pointed back to Reuben. “But you, Cruel Coppinger, don’t know that I’ve enlisted the support of my neighbours, the do-gooding, simpering, too-terrified-to-say-boo, Jacksons.”
“Ha! You may think that’s an insult, but it’s to my advantage! I lure people in with charm, and then, a-ha, I attack like a ninja assassin! I flank the Cruel Gang, and add to your curse to overcome them.”
“I thought you were Cruel Coppinger?”
Reuben looked startled. “Oh yes, I am. Okay.” He paced again. “I come ashore to meet at the agreed rendezvous point, but some of my men have arrived before me and are laying in wait to attack you and your family…or whoever you bring with you. When you arrive, we go through the motions, until I feel the time is right, and then attack.”
“But I’m prepared, and at a given signal, the Jacksons attack, too.”
“Furious, and knowing I’m out-manoeuvred—but not out-gunned, because I have backup—I abandon my men, because I care more about me than them, and retreat.”
Caspian continued, “I go after you, but am delayed because of your men. We manage to kill or curse some of them, and then as soon as I can, I pursue you!”
“But I’m way ahead by now, though I daren’t take my boat…I’m a sitting duck, it’s too obvious. So, I flee into the tunnels.” Reuben looked at Caspian. “So this is where it gets murky.”
Caspian roared with laughter. “This is where it gets murky? I think the whole thing is bloody murky!”
“Oh, ye of little faith!” Reuben strode across the kitchen again. “I head down the nearest tunnels, because I know them all by now. I am a cunning pirate, the biggest badass of the sea, and I flee to where I don’t think anyone can find me…right under the sneaky Jacksons’ nose! Their own tunnels!”
Reuben stopped dramatising and turned to Caspian. “We were smugglers—in some way. I’m not sure why or how. I mean, you’re right…we were in trade. Maybe we thought we’d get better profits. Maybe we were coerced by Coppinger.”
Caspian shook his head. “You’re witches. You wouldn’t have been coerced. You might have thought it was a good deal—at first—and then realised that you got in bed with the devil.”
“No. That doesn’t work. We’d have still done something about it.”
Caspian looked at him thoughtfully. “You had your own smuggling business. Just some local-level stuff. You’re the lord of the manor, the simpering, do-gooding, look-after-your-own, look-after-the-village kind of family. Maybe Coppinger was moving in on you. Maybe he had something on you. And remember, you don’t do curses. You’re trying to manage it. You want my help.”
“You know, I think we’re close with this. Our reasoning is good.”
“I agree. And it could be that he fled to Gull Island. The stories talk about Gull Rock, but it might not be.”
“But we’ve both seen the caves on Gull Island,” Reuben said. “There are no rotting bones there, or treasure.”
Caspian met Reuben’s gaze, knowing they were both thinking of the fateful night of Gil’s death. “No, there weren’t. But there were a lot of old chests and crates in there. What if there’s a hidden tunnel under all that? Did you ever check?”
Reuben sat down as if all his energy had left him. “No. I only went back for the first time the other day.” Caspian felt as if the whole room had closed down around them and his heart raced as Reuben continued. “I still didn’t search it. I was there for some space, actually, after I learned that Alex had spoken to Gil in the spirit world.”
Caspian was suddenly unsure of what to say. He’d apologised before, but it had been short, in passing, something he was embarrassed to talk about. He was also scared of breaking whatever strange accommodation they had arrived at between them. And then he frowned. “Was that where you were attacked?”
“Yes, in the cave leading to the beach.”
“I didn’t see that one.”
“It’s just beyond the big one.”
Reuben’s face was carefully schooled, but Caspian was sure there was a lot going on beyond that calm exterior. He had another thought. “Where else has a lot of tunnels and is neutral ground?”
Reuben looked puzzled, and then said, “West Haven.”
“We didn’t explore all of those tunnels.”
“But the police did.”
“Did they? What if there was another disguised doorway, or access to another section. What if there’s another tunnel that leads to Gull island? Another cave?”
“Lupescu’s cave wasn’t it, that’s for sure,” Reuben pointed out.
Caspian remembered the attack from the night before. “I saw those spirits emerging from your glasshouse last night. What if the place where Cruel Coppinger was finally defeated was on Gull Island all along?”
They both looked out of the window to the small isle that lay draped in mist and drizzle.
Reuben spoke first. “Another cave.” He nodded and sighed. “We know goods were smuggled ashore there. The big cliff on the far side shelters the beach from the mainland. It’s possible.”
Caspian turned away from the view and focussed on Reuben again. “I would chase him down and finish him straight away. I wouldn’t allow him to regroup and strike back. And when I was done, I would hunt down his remaining men. Or just extend the curse to the rest of them.”
“And I’d be with you. Once we’d started this thing, there would be no going back. We had effectively started a war.”
“And if I couldn’t track down all of his men, which would be tricky,” Caspian admitted, “even with magic, I would curse his treasure, ensuring that anyone who tried to move it would die. Or something of the sort.”
“If we cursed the treasure, wouldn’t that mean it would still be cursed?” Reuben asked, looking through the door and into the snug where the old chests still sat.
Caspian eyed them warily too, and unable to detect anything remotely like magic coming from them said, “Maybe not the treasure, then. Just the men.”
“What about the ship? Did it get away, or did we sink it? Or did the storm do it?”
“Or did we summon the storm, and bring the ship down?” Caspian asked.
Reuben huffed out a deep breath and leaned back in his chair. “Wow. Double-crossing him and cursing his gang would be a very good reason to come after us now.”
“But don’t forget they’ve been enhanced somehow, probably by Mariah, who has to be the witch Gil detected walking in the spirit world. Maybe her family was involved all those years ago, and this is her chance to have her revenge on us?”
“Or maybe this is just opportunistic. They found out the connection to us, and decided to have fun.” Reuben sighed. “Whatever. We need to stop them—for good. They’re strong, in the spirit world, too. They’ve captured Helena.”
Caspian nodded. “So I gather, and set Gil in action. Of course, the other option is that the curse tied them to the treasure, or their bones, meaning they couldn’t rest.” He frowned. “Seems short-sighted though. You’d want them gone forever.” He stood and carried his plate to the sink. “Come on, Reuben. Enough maybes. Let’s find this damn spell and work out what they did. You’re right, it’s the key. Then, I think we need to head out there.”
His gaze lingered on the island in the mist, sure that somewhere under it lay the answers to Coppinger’s doom.