Seven

El watched Reuben’s determined profile as he drove them through the busy market town of Wadebridge, and asked, “Are you sure this is a sensible idea?”

He glanced at her, surprised. “I thought you said it was!”

“I’m having second thoughts.”

“It’s too bloody late now! Besides, it’s a great idea.” He looked at her while they waited at the traffic lights. “Come on! You know it is. We can’t just sit around waiting for them to attack.”

El groaned. “I know. I just wish we knew more about Zane’s mother’s magic.”

“We’ll know plenty about her soon. Remind me of their names again?”

She checked the paper she’d scribbled their details on as Reuben pulled away again. “Zane’s dad is called Marlo, and his mum is Nancy.”

“Nancy and Marlo? I wonder how they managed to produce such a miserable son. Maybe they’re miserable, too.”

“It’s interesting that Nancy isn’t a member of a coven.”

“Maybe she’s dangerous. Unhinged! Like Zane.”

El sniggered. “Drama queen! I guess she just likes working alone. Maybe she even had a bad experience in one.”

Wadebridge was situated on the River Camel, and Reuben drove them across the bridge to the other half of the town.

“This place is pretty,” El said, looking with curiosity at the neat houses and trim shops. “I don’t think I’ve ever been here.”

“Me, neither.”

Reuben’s GPS announced their arrival, and they stopped outside a very ordinary, suburban house.

“Well, that looks harmless,” Reuben exclaimed. “In fact, it looks boring!”

“It doesn’t mean they are!” Although, he was right. Many witches had a flare that made where they lived seem a little different. There was nothing remotely different about this house. Reuben was already exiting the car, but she grabbed his arm. “Just polite questions, remember? They might not know anything!”

He winked and she groaned as she kept pace with him down the path. As they reached the front door, El heard the TV, but when Reuben knocked loudly, it muted, and footsteps sounded in the hall.

The door swung open and a narrow-faced man with thinning hair looked at them suspiciously. “Sorry, we don’t do religion here.”

“I’m not here to offer you any!” Reuben said straightway, looking baffled.

El wondered what on Earth telegraphed that either of them were there to preach.

The man—she presumed it was Marlo, because he looked very much like Zane—said, “I’m not giving to charity, either,” and went to slam the door.

Reuben’s hand shot out and held it open. “I need to talk to you about Zane.”

He frowned. “Are you the police?”

“No.”

“Then I have nothing to say. Move your hand.”

Reuben bristled. “Not yet. All I want to know is if you know where he is.”

They both glared at each other, one wrestling to shut the door, the other to keep it open, and El used the opportunity to feel for any magic. His mother must be there, somewhere. She saw movement from the window above, and glancing up caught a glimpse of a woman behind net curtains.

El spoke quickly. “Perhaps your wife would know where Zane is.”

“She’s not here.”

“I saw her at the upstairs window!”

A sharp voice sounded from above. “Let them in, Marlo.”

Suddenly defeated, he stepped back and ushered them inside, allowing them into a utilitarian but spotless hall. A pale woman with greying blonde hair came down the stairs. She seemed too frail for her years, and lines of deep disapproval were on her face, but even so, El felt a hum of magic around her.

She paused a few steps from the bottom and asked, “Who are you?”

Reuben started to introduce them. “My name’s Reub—”

“No. I don’t need your names. Who are you?”

Rueben and El exchanged wary glances, and then Reuben asked, “Are you Nancy and Marlo?”

“Yes,” Nancy answered for them both. “Get on with it.” Her stare was unyielding, and as El felt Nancy’s power swell, she summoned her own in response. Zane’s mother was deeply unpleasant.

Reuben said, “We’re with the White Haven Coven. Zane is one of the witches behind the theft of some pirate treasure. He attacked us and might attack others. We need to find him.”

“Utter rubbish,” Marlo sputtered, but Nancy silenced him.

“We both know it’s entirely possible, Marlo. Go and sit down and leave this to me.”

Marlo shot her a vicious look, but then marched down the hall, slammed the door shut, and turned the TV up.

Reuben watched Nancy with a wary expression, obviously wanting to confirm what they already knew. “Marlo isn’t a witch, then?”

“No. And I think he regrets ever marrying one.” A ghost of a smile crossed Nancy’s face before she glared again. “I have no idea where Zane is.”

“You don’t keep in touch?” El asked, thinking that if her mother spoke to her father like that, she probably wouldn’t keep in touch, either.

Nancy walked down another step so she was at eye-level with both of them, and folded her arms across her chest. “Zane moved out when he was old enough to support himself. I didn’t like the magic he was using, or who he used it with.”

“Lowen?” Reuben asked.

“Yes. Sly little bugger. And another boy. Another witch.”

El’s breath caught. “Charlie Curnow?”

“Yes. That’s him. Always up to something. I tried to teach them the right ways, but some people are just born to cause trouble, and Zane was one of them.”

“Did he ever harm anyone?” El asked, appalled.

“Oh, no. Nothing so obvious as that. Just subverted things so they went his way.”

“You’re not surprised about his potential involvement in this, then?” Reuben asked.

“Involvement?” She barked out a laugh. “It wouldn’t surprise me if he had dreamt up the whole thing! He always liked to be in charge. That’s why he formed his own coven. He liked to boss Lowen around. I think Charlie had enough sense, in the end. But what do I know? I haven’t seen them in years.”

“But Zane is part of the main Cornwall Coven,” El told her. “He’s not in charge of that.”

“And he wouldn’t like that. Especially if a woman was the head. I tried my best with him, but in the end only my magic kept the peace between us. He might have been better with a stronger father figure. But…well, that didn’t happen.”

El recalled what Avery said she’d seen. “He clashed with Genevieve, I believe.”

“He’ll have been biding his time.”

The more El heard, the more worried she became. “You didn’t want to join the Cornwell Coven on your own?”

“That’s not my path, girl. I work alone. And it won’t be his after all this, will it? Unless he gets his way.”

El exchanged another nervous glance with Reuben, whose eyes had turned a stormy grey with anger. He squared his shoulders. “What do you mean, gets his way?”

“He’ll want the coven for himself. The chance to wield everyone’s power and manipulate it.”

“But,” El faltered, confused, “he can’t do that unless it’s given willingly!”

Nancy looked at Reuben. “You said pirate treasure? He stole some?”

“Yes. A lot, we think.”

“That money has blood attached to it. It might not be visible anymore, but the treasure will be drenched with it. Gold and blood bring their own power. He must have found a way to use it.”

Avery studied Charlie’s living room that was full of children’s toys, and tried not to raise her voice, knowing that the children were upstairs.

“But you were friends!” Avery insisted. “Zane must have told you something!”

Charlie glared at Avery and Alex. “I told you, I don’t know where he is—or where any of them are!”

Avery and Alex had arrived a few minutes earlier, just after receiving a text from El updating them on their visit to Wadebridge, which was closer to White Haven than Polzeath. Although Charlie had admitted them into his living room, it wasn’t a warm welcome. Avery tried to be charitable, thinking it was because it was the kids’ bedtime. She could hear their chatter now, and the sound of bathroom activity, and she presumed his wife, Hannah, was with them. She was another witch and the second member of the Polzeath Coven.

Alex was perched on the edge of the sofa, and he persisted, undaunted. “Zane’s mother said you were childhood friends. You, Zane, and Lowen.”

Charlie shrugged and rolled his eyes. “You have been busy! I admit that we were old friends. All three of us grew up in Polzeath. So what?” He laughed. “We ran wild and had a lot of fun. It was a good place to practice our magic in private, too. But,” he sobered quickly, “Zane and Nancy always clashed. She’s very headstrong in how she approaches her magic. They never saw eye to eye.”

“How come he and Lowen ended up in Bodmin?” Avery asked.

“Zane’s parents moved to Wadebridge in his early teens. He still used to come here—it’s not that far. But when he could he moved out after finding work in Bodmin. Lowen moved with him. It’s nothing sinister!”

“And Lowen’s parents? How did they die?”

“His father died from lung cancer when he was young, and then tragically his mother died of breast cancer a few years later. Again,” he glared, “nothing sinister. Lowen clung to us more then.”

Alex took a deep breath, seeming to relax. “Were your parents in the Cornwall Coven—or one of them?”

“My father is a witch, and yes, he was for a while. Then my parents split up and he moved away. I remained here. Wow.” Charlie shook his head, his eyes hard. “You two are so suspicious. Happy now?”

Avery couldn’t help her anger. “Not really. Zane and Mariah tried to kill us. Until we find them, no, we won’t be happy. I don’t get why you can’t understand that.”

Charlie shuffled uncomfortably. “I just find it hard to believe that they would do something like that.”

Avery glanced at Alex in disbelief. “Yes. You said that last night, despite the fact that we have multiple witnesses to their actions.”

“Your witnesses.”

Avery felt Alex’s magic rise, and in response, Charlie’s did, too.

Alex replied scathingly. “I’m sorry we didn’t have any adjudicators with us in the cave! When they attack you next, you’ll see we’re not lying!”

Charlie rose to his feet, and Avery sensed that although Charlie was trying very hard to look angry, he was actually worried—and perhaps wary. But she wasn’t sure why. Had Zane threatened him? Or was he or his wife—or more likely, both of them—involved? And what of the other Polzeath Coven member, Robyn? Avery recalled she was a young hippy with a sharp sense of humour, but she had spoken to her only briefly in previous gatherings.

Charlie said, “They won’t attack me. And I truly don’t wish to fight with you on this. I’m entitled to my opinion. I don’t believe Zane would do such a thing, or Lowen. Now, Mariah—perhaps,” Charlie shrugged. “I don’t know her as well. And if they stole some treasure and enjoy the rewards—fine! I’ll see you out.”

He walked to the door, and Avery and Alex had no choice except to follow him. He nodded coolly to Avery, saying, “I’ll see you at the meeting tomorrow,” before shutting the door firmly behind them.

Briar drove on to the car park a short walk away from Hurlers Stone Circles, parked her Mini next to Ben’s van, and for a few moments studied the brooding landscape.

Hurlers Stone Circles were a series of three circles on the south edge of Bodmin Moor, in a bleak and remote spot with only the small hamlet of Minions close by. But despite that, it was beautiful in its own way. The circles were laid out in a line, all of a substantial size, the furthest a good walk across the uneven and occasionally boggy ground. A short distance away was the small Visitor Centre, but that was locked up for the night. The gathering darkness added to its lonely feel, and while normally Briar would love the chance to explore the ancient remains, she had to admit she wasn’t looking forward to it now. But she got out anyway, and the wind that always blew across the moor lifted her hair.

Cassie exited the passenger door of the van and came to join her, securing her hair as she reached Briar’s side. “I thought I’d wait for you so you didn’t have to walk over alone.”

Briar gave her a quick hug. “Thank you. I guess it’s warmer in there, too!”

Cassie laughed as she pulled her jacket tighter. “Absolutely! I already walked over to the farthest one, and I’m not looking forward to going back. Bloody wind!”

Cassie often helped Briar in her shop, eager to supplement her earnings until their business, Ghost OPS was more established, and Briar found her to be easy, chatty company.

“I must admit,” Briar said, “I’m intrigued as to what’s going on that means we need to be here tonight.”

“It has to do with our mapping of Cornwall’s paranormal activity—especially at ancient sites. Dylan filmed Duloe Stone Circle and the Nine Maidens stone row last night and discovered that they were glowing with energy when he used the thermal imaging camera. This is a sort of test.”

“Glowing?”

“Yeah. Like you when you use your magic, and how we studied Gull Island.”

Briar nodded. “I get it, but I didn’t expect stone to glow.”

“We didn’t expect to see the ghost of a giant walking across a cliff top, either.” Cassie shrugged and directed her onto a rudimentary path. “Do you know the myths attached to this place?”

“I know that it’s either Bronze Age or Neolithic, but the myths say the stones were men who chose to play hurling on the sabbath.” Briar shook her head, perplexed. “Such odd myths!”

Cassie pointed to two standing stones a little further away from the rest. “And they are the pipers. But do you know what’s beneath our feet?”

Briar examined the ground, puzzled. “Not really, why?”

Cassie grinned, obviously excited. “A few years ago, they excavated this site and found a path made of white quartz that ran through the circles. They covered it up again to preserve it. It’s ceremonial, and they believe it was a sacred pathway meant to represent stars or the Milky Way.”

“Wow.” Briar stopped and stared, following the faint image of the path through the stones, barely a depression in the grass, trying to imagine it uncovered. “It would have looked stunning in the day or at night, especially under moonlight.”

“And torchlight.”

“Quartz, like many stones, carries energy. White quartz converts negative energy to positive, and provides powerful healing. It’s an interesting stone to use for a path,” Briar reflected.

“Would it hold energy, too?”

“Absolutely.”

They walked right through the two nearest stone circles and Cassie said, “We thought we’d start at the farthest point and work our way back. It will be dark by the time we return.”

Dylan was already filming when they joined the guys, and Ben had turned his EMF meter on.

“Hey Briar, thanks for coming. But,” Ben shot Cassie an impatient look, “I think she dragged you out here for nothing.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because we’re just filming. And we’ve already got some of your spells with us, just in case.” Ben looked flustered, but that may have been more to do with the wind and darkening sky.

“If you’ve brought our spells with you, that means you’re worried. What’s going on?”

Ben summarised Dylan’s findings again. “He came here a couple of months ago. Like many stone circles, it carries power, but the stones looked normal on thermal imaging. I wanted to see if this place had changed.”

Briar felt the stir of unease. “Was the energy you saw last night that strong?”

“Unusually so. Stone is cold, Briar. It shouldn’t glow.”

Briar regarded the pillars standing sentinel around them. “I use crystals a lot when healing. Different crystals carry different energies. It’s inherent in their properties, but witches charge them with energy too, and we cleanse them before we work.”

Cassie frowned. “So these stones could carry energy?”

“Of course. That’s probably why stone circles were so prevalent. And they last a very long time. But to charge something as big as these?” Briar studied the circle again. Only a few of the stone pillars were still standing. Some were as tall as she was, others shorter, but none looming anywhere near as large as those at Stone Henge, but even so… “It would be hard to charge these with additional energies—especially all of them. What are the depressions in the earth from?”

“Tin mining,” Ben said, and pointed to a roofless building across the moors. “And that’s a tin mine pumping house. They were prospecting here. The Visitor Centre is an old engine room.”

The wind dropped as they talked, and the silence of the moors seeped around them, until Dylan called them over. “Guys, these have changed since I last came here.”

Dylan was tall and slim, and full of energy and enthusiasm. He held the camera out to show them. “Look at this closest one.”

Briar crowded around the small screen with the others, noting the orange light emanating from the closest stone pillar. She had a sudden urge to feel the damp, ancient earth beneath her feet. She pulled her ankle boots off and wriggled her feet into the grass, and with surprise, felt a jolt of power resonate through her. She walked over to the quartz pathway, and immediately the energy felt stronger. She turned to find all three watching her. “I can feel the power of this place coursing through me!”

“Let’s check the next circle,” Ben said decisively. “It’s more intact than this one.”

Briar carried her boots while they walked, and with every step she felt the earth resonate beneath her. Her unease grew. Part of her wanted to celebrate the fact that the earth felt so vibrant, but mainly she was just worried.

While the three paranormal investigators started their readings again, Briar tried to discern if there was a certain spot where the energy was radiating from, but it seemed to be coming from everywhere. She gathered her skirt and sat on the damp ground. The dew was heavy, but she ignored it. Digging her hands into the springy grass as well as her feet, she closed her eyes and sent her awareness out. If she remembered correctly, this place was also on St Michael’s Ley Line, and it carried power across the country, connecting with Old Haven Church in White Haven as it passed through Cornwall to St Michael’s Mount. A witch had drawn on the power of ley line once before—Suzanne Grayling, Avery’s ancestor. Was someone drawing on it again?

Dylan’s shout brought her to her feet, and she headed to his side, throwing a witch-light up above her. It was almost dark now, and the moor felt eerie.

Dylan sounded victorious. “Look! It’s more obvious here.” He panned the camera. “They are all a faint orange colour—that’s energy!”

Cassie, however, just sounded worried. “I don’t think this is a good thing, Dylan! It’s changed completely in two months! Why’s that?”

“Someone is manipulating it,” Briar said thoughtfully.

“Why?” Ben asked.

“That’s a really good question. And I’m not sure whether it’s good or bad. My gut says bad.”

“Could it be Mariah and Zane?” Dylan asked.

All three investigators were staring at her, and Briar wished she had more answers. “I think it’s more likely them than anyone else right now, but we have zero proof. Did you know that this place is on St. Michael’s Ley Line?”

Ben nodded. “Sure. It was something we researched when Old Haven Church was targeted.”

“Have you checked any other sites along it?”

“Not for months.”

“But we can,” Dylan added, with a nod of encouragement at the others. “I can’t think of what lies along it right now, but it’s easy enough to find out.”

“That would be fantastic. And while I’m here,” Briar said, striding to the closest stone pillar, “I should feel this, too.”

Briar cautiously laid her hands on it as if it might burn her, but the stone was cold, its surface feeling surprisingly smooth beneath her fingers. But she could also feel it almost pulsing with power.

“Well?” Cassie asked, watching her anxiously.

“Oh yes, I feel it.” She looked across to the last stone circle. “Come on. Let’s check that one, too.”