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My insides quivered, my palms lined with sweat. If only I could get one second alone with him, but Dave wasn’t having any of it. He didn’t trust me alone with Peter. I didn’t blame him, either.
“Why did you run when I followed you a few nights ago?”
The tightness in my chest squeezed even further as I resisted the temptation to touch the scar tissue over my heart. When I’d gone home the night before, I’d stared at myself in the mirror again, trying to work out how my body was still working. If it wasn’t for the puckered scar, I would have believed that I’d imagined the whole thing.
Peter was middle-aged, his light hair going thin on top. His nose was bulbous, the tip bright red. He was a witch who drank by the looks of his pockmarked skin.
Sniffing, Peter rubbed a finger under his nose. “I knew you were MI5. I didn’t want to mess with you.”
“So, you shot at me?”
He glanced at Dave who sat quietly beside me, his bulging arms crossed over his chest. The dark blue suit made him look like a solicitor more than an agent. In a way, that was a good thing, because it made Peter feel more inclined to talk.
“I... I freaked out, okay? I know who you are.” His sniff was followed by a cough. Somebody needed to get him a tissue. Shame we didn’t have any on standby. He’d just have to sniffle like a bitch instead.
“That’s still no excuse to run. What are you hiding?” I leant forward, my arms resting on the metal table between us.
This part of the Paranormal M15 building housed holding cells and interview rooms. The whole section had been spelled to disable all prisoners’ magic. They had a band wrapped around their wrist, which fused to their skin if they tried to get it off. It was the only thing that stopped them from being able to escape or hurt any of us. Not that they’d be powerful enough to hurt me, but whatever.
Taking a deep breath, Peter glanced between the pair of us, his eyes closing quickly when his gaze made contact with mine.
“Might as well cut to the chase, my friend,” Dave said, letting me play the bad guy. “My partner doesn’t like to waste time.”
Our shared look sent a sizzle down my spine. Swallowing, I blinked as I looked back at our suspect. Why was I getting funny feelings with Dave? He was my desk friend. I didn’t fancy him. At all.
“Okay.” Throwing his cuffed hands in the air, Peter screwed up his face. “I’m having an affair with Helen Cambridge.”
My scoff of disbelief made him scowl, his lips pulling back to bare his teeth. “I’ll have you know that I’m a very capable lover.”
Coughing, I cleared my face. Enough mucking around. It was time to get serious. “So, if we called Joseph Cambridge and told him you were having an affair with his wife, he’d believe us?”
Shaking his head vehemently, he almost choked. “You can’t do that, he’d kill me.”
“What were you doing at the station?” Dave distracted him.
The atmosphere suddenly grew warm. Rubbing a hand over my neck, I cringed when my fingers encountered the sudden light perspiration. My senses were on edge. I had to find out what was happening with me so that I could get my mind back to my work. Investigating a serial killer at the same time as not knowing if I was actually dead or not was beginning to mar my senses.
Rubbing his head, Peter looked me in the eye. “I’m sorry I fired at you that time. I must admit, I thought I’d got you. I’m glad to see you’re alive.”
My jaw almost hit the ground. Really? The sniffling bastard was sorry for shooting me? My arse! Well, not my arse, my chest, but still. I didn’t believe him in the slightest.
“Don’t be insincere,” Dave said, leaning forward on the table. “You don’t give a shit that she’s alive. In fact, you probably would’ve got a medal from your friends at the PFF.”
“Are you fucking joking me?” Peter spat. “They’d fry me with a spell if I’d managed to kill her.”
Oh, Dave was good at pushing criminal’s buttons. Not only had Peter just told us that the terrorist group Paranormals for Freedom didn’t want me killed, he’d just shopped himself in.
“Ah, so you are connected to them.” Dave glanced at me, a bored expression on his face. “He’s obviously not an important lead if he’s not allowed to kill you. I suppose they’re saving that one for the big dogs.”
Peter’s mottled cheeks grew even redder as he gritted his teeth. “I... I’m not going to say anymore.”
“Shame,” I said, getting up from my seat. “We thought you were important enough to lead us to the juicy stuff. Thought maybe we’d cut you a break.”
“You don’t have anything to hold me. How can you cut me a break when you can’t even arrest me?” Sitting back in his chair, he looked quite comfortable with himself all of a sudden.
Cocking my head to the side, I cringed when my hair brushed my grazed arm. The war wound would look impressive, and my T-shirt hadn’t sustained any damage, but it would sting like a bitch for a while.
“You forget that I’ve arrested you on suspicion of murder. The body in the station didn’t get there by itself. And, you just happened to be on the train tracks, watching us. You were basically caught red-handed.”
Yeah, it wouldn’t fly in court, if there was ever a trial, but the weasel wouldn’t know that. He wasn’t exactly the sharpest witch in the box.
“I didn’t kill that person. I was there for...” Biting his lip, he dropped his gaze to the metal surface of the table. “...what deal are you offering?”
It was amazing how quickly that men who thought they were brave turned their backs when they were threatened. Something as simple as an Essex witch connecting him to a crime scene had made him sell out his terrorist friends.
“It depends what you have to offer us,” Dave said, his face deadpan as he stared at our prisoner. “You could be a serial killer.”
“I’ve taken it upon myself to keep an eye on things. I sell information, okay.” Peter looked defeated. His gaze moved to his hands where he twiddled his thumbs together.
My gut objected. A sharp ache in the pit of my stomach alerted me to his lies. Yes, I believed that he probably did sell information, but there was more to it. The sweat that trickled down the side of his neck was a tell-tale sign.
“You sell information to the PFF?” Dave didn’t even need to blink to get a reaction from Peter.
“No.” He glanced up. “Yes.”
“And, do you know if they’re involved in the murders?” My butt was on the edge of my seat, waiting for him to give us what we needed.
Shaking his head, he glanced between the pair of us. “No, they’re not. They asked me to check it out, see what was going on. So, as soon as a report came in that there was another murder, I went to see for myself. I hadn’t long been there when you caught me.”
Glancing at Dave, I resisted the urge to sigh. Unfortunately for us, it felt like he was telling the truth about the crime scene. However, I wasn’t going to let him go instantly. I wanted more information about PFF. It was probably better if we let him sweat for a day or twelve.
“That’s all the questions we have for you right now,” Dave said, getting up from his chair.
“Are you letting me go?” Peter’s pathetic face brightened.
Raising my eyebrows when he glanced at me, I had to stop myself from laughing when he deflated, his lips turning down into a frown. I almost felt sorry for him. Scrap that, no I didn’t. The bastard shot me.
“Sorry, mate.” Dave indicated that we leave. “You’ll be held here for a while longer.”
As we stepped into the corridor, my own mood dropped. For some bizarre reason, a part of me had hoped that we’d find out something substantial. The lack of grit, of excitement, left me feeling drained.
“I’ve just got to pop somewhere,” I said, digging out my phone. “I won’t be long.”
Before I could flash myself away, Dave grabbed my arm. Looking up at him, I swallowed hard when our gaze clashed. He was being all broody, the corners of his jaw working as he clenched them.
“What is it?” My voice was quiet in the empty area.
Licking his lips as he screwed up his eyes in concentration, Dave let go of me when he sighed. “There’s something not quite right about you. You’ve always been distant, but this is different.”
Dropping my gaze, I stared at the top of his shirt where it was open, revealing a strong tanned collarbone. “I won’t be long.”
Power surged through me as I dragged on the ley line and pictured myself outside the seer’s house. My body turned to fluid as it morphed from the MI5 building to Edinburgh in Scotland. When my boots landed on the concrete pathway outside an old townhouse, I smiled to myself. I had first learnt the transportation spell when I was ten. My mother had gone a little crazy at me because I’d vanished for hours. Yeah, you guessed it, it was one of the oldest libraries in the world. The National Library of Scotland, located near the George IV bridge, between the town and the university. This library boasted housing the letters of Mary Queen of Scots and Charles Darwin. Pure heaven.
My mother had managed to trace me with her own magic, but her punishment had been hell. No reading for a week. I mean, who would ban a child from reading? It did the job though, I never left her in the dark about where I was going again.
“Hello there,” a brisk feminine Scots accent broke me from my memory.
Ah, Mary, the seer. Devon Jinx at the Hunted Witch Agency had recommended her to me when I asked if she knew anyone not in London city. I didn’t want someone close to home to know what was happening to me. Apparently, Mary had helped Devon in the past.
The woman was elderly, waving at me from the doorstep. She was short with long grey frizzy hair, and a big smile on her face. She wore a tatty purple tie-dye dress that fell to just above her ankles. Devon had warned me she was eccentric, but she looked like a nice lady.
“Hi,” I greeted as I went to meet her at the door.
Ushering me inside, she checked the street before pointing me to the stairs. “My room is right at the top. Don’t worry, I haven’t got any men hidden in there.”
Her cackle of laughter made me jump as I trotted up the stairs, waiting at the top for her to join me. Shuffling, she took her time to ascend, eventually reaching me on the landing.
“Through that door and up again.” She puffed, putting her hand on her chest.
Grabbing hold of the handle, I paused. Sometimes I had to remind myself that there were other people in the world. People who were vulnerable.
Turning back to her, I held out my hand. “Do you need some help?”
Her scowl made me step back. “What do you think I am? I might be a little older than you, but I’m as fit as they come.”
Tutting, she shoved past me and went up the stairs, two at a time. Okay, so now she was showing off. I didn’t know whether to be worried that I’d offended her, or... who was I kidding, it was very unlikely that she would stay offended for long. She was a hard Scots woman. I was going to like her.
“Here,” she said as I came into the room. “Sit over there while I get the tea.”
The downstairs part of the house had been covered in cobwebs, the décor old-fashioned. The open-planned top floor had a kitchenette in the corner, a small nook with a bedroom and a wall that stuck out to hide the bathroom area. That wall drew my eye as I made my way over to the mismatched seating area.
Choosing the sofa, I sat as I stared at the paintings on the wall. The paintings weren’t on canvas, they were painted directly on the plain wallpaper. In fact, it looked like it had been replaced several times. The seer obviously painted her visions, which was unusual.
“Everyone’s fascinated by that wall,” she commented as she came over with a tray.
Placing it on the table, she walked backwards until her butt hit the armchair. Getting herself comfortable, she gestured for me to pour the tea. It was like I was in a book. The story of the woman would unfold, no wait, my story would unfold. It wasn’t that that reminded me of being in a story, it was the old teapot that sat on the table. And, the dreamcatchers catching in the breeze by the small window. Brightly coloured throws and cushions lined most surfaces, making me feel like I was in an Arabian Nights setting.
“I love this place,” I blurted. “It reminds me of a book I read recently.”
The name was lost to me. I read at least two books a week, if not more. Sometimes I was tempted to resign from my job just so I could read all day, every day.
“I noticed that you were a reader.”
“You did?” Sitting forward, I smiled at her as she nodded.
“You have a pile of books on your T-shirt.”
Ah, okay. I might have got a little too excited thinking that she had seen a vision of me or something.
“Don’t look deflated, dear,” she said, waving towards the wall. “I’ve seen plenty of you. It’s amazing how people who I don’t know suddenly start popping up in my visions when they’re about to appear in my life.”
Taking the teapot, I poured us both a cup, reciting the Alice in Wonderland song in my mind as I did. Disney was an extension of my love of books. No wonder I was single, I was a child stuck in a woman’s body.
“Can you... erm,” I stuttered as I handed her a cup. “...could you tell me...?”
Why couldn’t I force the words out? If my suspicions were right, hopefully the seer would know. Or, she could at least ask to be shown the information. A part of me didn’t want to know. Living in ignorance had been the reason I read so much. If I did that, I didn’t have to face reality. Sometimes it was too hard to live in this world. Especially when I saw so much cruelty. Not only in the underworld, but in the human world, too.
“Do you need some answers?” Mary’s tone was soft, gentle, kind.
Sitting back against the sofa with my cup, I sipped it as I tried to figure out how to ask her if I was dead. Because that was what I was there for.
Nodding, I avoided looking her in the eye, knowing that she could probably read everything that I was trying to hide from the world. Seers were very psychic.
Clearing her throat, Mary clicked her fingers. “I’m over here, dear.”
Trying to quell the quiver in my stomach, I looked at her. My palms were damp as I grasped the handle of the teacup tightly.
“Two nights ago I had a vision of you. You were running down a street, your ponytail flying out behind you. A bullet...” Pausing, she nodded towards my chest. “...got you near the heart.”
The air sucked out of my lungs, the shaky breath that followed audible in the room. Tears popped into my eyes as a lump formed in my throat.
“How am I still here?” I whispered, swiping at the tears as they fell onto my cheeks.
The emotion of the last few days overwhelmed me suddenly, ripping through my body. I tried to hold on to it, tried to keep my broken pieces together.
“Let go,” she said so quietly, I almost didn’t hear.
Shuffling off her chair, she came and took the teacup from me and placed it on the table. My body rocked back, my head almost hitting the wall behind the sofa. Sobs burst from me, the force of them making me grasp my head as Mary sat next to me and placed a hand on my shoulder.
“The shock has been sitting within you for days. It’s good to let it out.” Her calm words made me cry harder.
Not because they were cruel, but because she was right. I’d been so afraid to admit the truth to myself, I’d almost managed to persuade myself that I’d imagined it. Especially considering I was still alive. Or...
“Wait,” I said, looking at her through the water that lined my eyes. “How am I alive? Am I dead?”
Taking my hand, Mary squeezed it. “I need your permission to contact your ancestors. They will explain what has happened.”
Nodding quickly, I sucked back a sob, determined to shut my emotions down so she could find out what was happening.
“Wait.” She squeezed my hand hard, making me flinch. “This emotion has to come out. I don’t know you, but I can instantly tell that you’re an agent first and foremost.”
Coughing as I laughed, I picked up the bottom of my shirt and wiped my face with it, snot and all. It wasn’t my most favourite T-shirt, so a little bit of misery spread over it would be okay until I washed it.
“I’m ready to know. I need to know. My game has been off since this happened. I have a case to investigate.”
Her short sigh was joined by her slapping her hand against her thigh. “You modern day women. You’re always trying to avoid being vulnerable. Don’t you know that it’s your power?”
Getting comfortable, Mary placed her hands, palm up, on her lap and closed her eyes. “Nope,” she blurted, opening them again. “I need a conduit for you.”
Frowning, I put my finger up when something occurred to me. “My dagger?”
Rolling her eyes, yes, she actually rolled her eyes at me, she nodded. “What is it with you Essex witches and daggers? Devon Jinx has the same one. I was hoping for a wand, or even a familiar. The old fashioned way of the witch has long gone.”
Smiling to myself, I handed her my dagger. Her eyes widened as she felt the weight of it. Yeah, it was kickass. And, the witch who wielded it had trained with it for many years. Kate had even asked me to teach her how to use one. She was the master at combat, but I was the master with magic.
“I wouldn’t say all our traditions are gone,” I muttered, feeling a little defensive of our kind.
Mary looked at me, her face completely blank. “When was the last time you used a candle to conjure a spell?”
My burst of laughter wasn’t taken in the light tone I’d meant it. Who was I kidding? Mary was an old soul, someone who was probably bound in tradition. She was right, modern day witches were nowhere near as reliant on tools as our ancestors had been. However, I was a ley line witch. Of course there would be a ton of difference. She had probably not met many of us in her lifetime.
“Your soul is...” Mary’s eyes reflected a sadness that I often felt as her sentence trailed off.
Seeing the emotion in her gaze made me put a hand on my stomach. It was as if someone had punched me in the gut, forcing my own sorry sadness into me.
“Can we contact the ancestors?” I almost whispered the words, afraid that she’d refuse to help me.
Nodding, she clasped the dagger in her hands, resting it on her lap. “Relax and close your eyes. Sometimes the ancestors want you to see something.”
Doing as she said, my hands shook as I righted my T-shirt. I had never contacted the ancestors before. My mother had always been the person to direct me in my witch life.
“They’re accepting my call, ready to talk. Can you see?” Mary’s voice sounded far away as images entered my mind.
Me. As a baby. Gosh, I was ugly. My cheeks were puffy and red, my eyes big and round. Why on Mother Earth had my parents named me Gemma? It was a girly name, and yet, I wasn’t girly at all.
The image changed to me as a child, holding onto my father’s legs, just before he left our house in London.
“This was the day he was killed. You knew something wasn’t right.”
Seeing him so clearly in my mind almost made me cry again. I had been very young when he was shot. Ironic that I would also be shot too.
“Why are they showing me this?” I asked, my chest squeezing as my mother’s weeping figure appeared.
The heat in the room intensified, making my breathing deepen. The atmosphere grew heavy as the scene suddenly cut to me running down a pavement. Yeah, this wasn’t a scene I wanted to relive.
“Wait for it,” Mary warned, obviously feeling my reluctance.
As the bullet flew into my chest, the pain I’d felt exploded inside me. A cry escaped my lips as I saw the dark starry sky above me, as clear as it had been that day.
“You died,” Mary whispered, jolting me with the truth of it. “Your ancestors say that your connection to the ley line kept your body alive.”
A gasp escaped me as the image changed to a field. The long meadow flowed off into the distance. Standing in a line, my ancestors, witches of many, many generations stared at me, their eyes light, and their auras white. They lived in the spirit realm. I should be in the spirit realm.
“Why am I still alive?” I could hear the shake of my voice when I spoke.
The witches who were watching me smiled, their arms stretching out to offer their hands. All of them. Recoiling, I clung to myself, wrapping my arms around my chest. I wasn’t ready to go.
“You have a choice. You’re alive because Mother Earth has allowed it, not them. They have no power over her decisions. The ley line is allowing your body to stay alive. However, there’s a danger in the air, which is why they’re offering to take you with them now. The ley line is under threat.” Mary’s voice grew tighter the more she spoke. The burden on the seer was growing heavier with every word.
“How is the ley line under threat?” My mind had switched into agent mode.
As soon as I closed my mouth, a slight pull on my energy made me grab the arm of the sofa. It was the same energetic pull I’d felt when at the book convention.
“Someone is tampering with the line somehow. The longer you’re connected to it without reviving your body, the longer you’re in danger. If someone can take the power from Mother Earth through the line, they can...”
My eyes squeezed shut to try and block out the inevitable as Mary stopped talking. She didn’t want to speak out loud. If she did, it could set the wheels of fate in motion. If I didn’t find the person who was playing with the ley line, not only was the whole witch community at risk, considering their magic came from the pure lines of Mother Earth, but I would actually die this time. For real. Forever.
