Page 9

Chapter Nine

I like to think that I’m not the type of person who cares about flashy cars and expensive accessories – but Banks’ car was something special . Maybe it was the recent journey in Maddie’s beat-up hatchback that influenced my opinion, but I swear that when my backside slipped onto the leather seats they felt like the softest, most comfortable place in the entire world. And the smell was divine. It was a far cry from poor old Rosie.

It was nice to have something else to think about, other than poor Mrs D. Anxiety churned in my stomach; I hoped she was okay.

I snapped on my seatbelt and tried to ignore the cool way the engine roared to life. Soft Celtic pipe music hummed through the car but Banks leaned forward and turned it off. Shame: I could have done with some soothing sounds right about then.

‘So Mrs D was poisoned at the pasty contest?’ I said into the silence.

‘Apparently. Two of the contestants started vomiting a couple of minutes in. One of them is an acquaintance of mine – and obviously you know the other?’

‘Amara Drakefield. Yes, I know her. Knew her. She was my form teacher in school.’

He smiled. ‘A form teacher who does pasty-eating contests. I guess it’s easy to understand why kids would get on with someone like that.’

I stayed silent as I gazed out of the car window, grateful that he let the silence fall. He must be as worried about the person he knew as I was about Mrs D.

When I’d been at school, she wasn’t the sort of teacher who did pasty-eating contests; she was too busy arranging school trips, choir tours and debate teams, or organising breakfast clubs for the children she knew didn’t get a proper meal at home. She was great with the problem kids, too, the ones who were always getting in trouble in other teachers’ classes. She always did everything in her power to make sure everyone got every opportunity.

I had always respected her, even though I’d stayed off her radar for most of my school career. It wasn’t until Grandmother Dearest had shown up that she’d become a more important figure in my life. Everyone had looked at me differently after that, including the teachers. It was as if they didn’t know how to treat me; some of them acted like I was frail and about to fall apart at any minute, others were so scared of me I felt the fear radiating off them.

I was of my grandmother’s blood and they had seen what she was capable of, so they thought I was capable of the same things. Ironically, I was about as much use as a soggy matchstick.

It’s a strange thing that people in the magical community don’t talk about their powers. Sometimes you can guess: if both parents are merpeople then the child will be a merperson too. But there are many others whose lineage is far more complicated than that, such as fifth-generation witches with a werewolf father.

Sometimes those mixed lineages strengthen the forms of magic, but sometimes there is a dominant strand that subdues the others, like with Maddie. And very occasionally, as in my case, for no apparent reason a person with an incredibly powerful witch mother and a pretty average witch father can be almost non-magical. But it wasn’t the done thing to talk about our magic unless it was with our closest family and friends; it was an absolute no-no, on a par with talking about politics at the dinner table.

There were shifters in my class who could have been anything from beetles to bears for all I knew – and for all they were aware I was at home practising curses and black magic every spare minute to continue my grandmother’s legacy.

But Mrs D was different. I wasn’t sure what magic she had, though I knew she was a shifter of sorts. Apparently she’d married a non-magical man when she was young and, being a shifter, had aged far more slowly than him; she had already outlived him by decades. I didn’t know if that was true, but something about the way she was with me after my parents’ deaths made me believe it was. She had definitely suffered loss.

I’d gone back to school five weeks after my parents had been killed even though Yanni didn’t want me to. The minute I arrived, I was sure I’d made a mistake. Then Mrs D strode toward me, all four feet five inches of her.

‘Today won’t be easy,’ she’d said. ‘Actually, it will probably be pretty awful, and I expect most days from now on are going to have a bit of awfulness in them. But I have several beanbags and a large tin of custard creams in my office at all times. You and your friends come and go as you need.’

It was the way she told the truth, that there was going to be a bit of awfulness in everything, that made me realise she was different. Even Yanni had tried to tell me that things would get better, that it would be hard and take time but they would get better. Mrs D said no such thing, probably because she knew it wasn’t true.

She was also the one who’d told me it was okay to leave Witchlight Cove. ‘You’ll come back when you’re ready,’ she’d said. ‘And the people who are meant to be in your life will still be here waiting for you.’

What she hadn’t told me was that they would also be very pissed off with me. Then again, perhaps she hadn’t expected me to bugger off for a whole decade.

Banks’ voice interrupted my reminiscing. ‘Where do you want to go? They said they were taking the two people who were sick to the hospital. Do you want to go there or to the fête?’

I snorted. ‘It’s a fayre, not a fête.’

‘What’s the difference?’

I shot him a look. ‘One is right, and one is wrong. Take me to the hospital,’ I said. ‘Please,’ I tacked on, because Mum had taught me my manners. ‘Who did you say the other person was?’

He shot me an indecipherable look. ‘I didn’t.’ He paused, evidently debating whether to share the information with me or not. ‘Warren Storcrest,’ he said finally. I guessed he thought it would be common knowledge soon enough and he was right; Witchlight Cove was full of gossips. ‘I take it you know the name?’ Banks asked.

I gave a low whistle. Everyone knew Warren. He was a man who’d built himself up from nothing. Apparently his first ever job was as a deckhand for non-magical folk but now he owned all the charter boats on the waterfront. He wasn’t one for keeping his wealth to himself and hoarding it like a squirrel with a pile of nuts; instead he took philanthropy to a whole new level. Yes, I knew the Storcrest name, everyone did. I also knew the man himself, though not intimately.

‘I grew up in Witchlight so yes, I know the name,’ I said drily. ‘His business used to sponsor the girls’ football team. And the boys. And the debate team tour.’ Actually, he’d funded all the school teams.

Banks nodded. ‘It sounds like two good people got hurt. Let’s hope it’s not serious.’

I grunted agreement and took out my phone. I fired off a quick message to Maddie to tell her I’d had to leave the house but Eva was standing guard. I hoped she wouldn’t be mad that I’d left my post when I was only an hour into my Flame vigil. It wasn’t exactly great going for a guardian. I really sucked at this.

Her message pinged back almost straight away: I’ll go back . Everything’s closing down here anyway .

I grimaced. Once again, Maddie was stepping up to my responsibilities.

‘How long are you planning on staying in Witchlight?’ Fraser Banks asked.

Suddenly everything got to me: the missing Flame, returning to the village, Mrs D, my constant feelings of guilt. Always the guilt.

Angry and frustrated and upset, I glared at him. ‘Are you seriously trying to make small talk right now?’

He rubbed his forehead. ‘I feel like I’ve offended you somehow.’

‘Hm, I can’t think why that might be. Oh right!’ I snapped my fingers. ‘Because you’re trying to kick me and my friend out of my family’s ancestral home?’

His hands tightened on the wheel. ‘It’s not quite as straightforward as that.’

‘It is from where I’m sitting,’ I said firmly. It was my turn to rub my forehead. I knew I wasn’t being fair. ‘Look, this isn’t a great time to talk. Someone I care about was taken ill. How about some silence?’

‘Sure.’

We didn’t speak until he drove into one of the empty parking bays outside the hospital and cut the engine. ‘I’ll come with you,’ he said, opening his door.

‘I don’t need a chaperone,’ I shot back.

‘I’m beginning to get that vibe,’ he said wryly. ‘But I’m guessing you’ re not family, and they might not let you in. I could put in a word for you.’

‘You’re saying you have sway in this village?’ I scoffed.

‘I do, actually.’

I rolled my eyes but there was no point telling him not to come. I got the impression he wanted to play the big protector even though I didn’t need protecting. If it suited him to think his reputation in this area was more significant than mine, despite living here for less than a decade, then fine. Let him.

We marched through the double doors. ‘Where is Mrs D?’ I asked a nurse who was just inside them.

‘I’m sorry,’ she eyed me. ‘Who are you?’

‘Beatrix Stonehaven.’

I watched her eyes widen and the colour drain from her patchy cheeks. She took an involuntary step back. Charming. ‘Stonehaven, as in...?’

‘Stonehaven, yes.’ I gave a long sigh. ‘I assume your complexion is several shades whiter now than it was a second ago because you recognise the name. Is Mrs Drakefield here? She was brought in after the fayre. Can you find out where she is?’

‘I’ll... I’ll... Wait there.’ She scurried away.

Banks was studying me. ‘It looks like your name has some weight, too.’

‘No shit,’ I snapped. ‘Is there anything else about myself that you’d like to explain to me?’

He looked amused. ‘You’re not intimidated by me in the slightest, are you?’

‘Oh, that is so sweet.’ I gave him a flirty smile then immediately let it drop. ‘It’s you who should be intimidated by me.’

I was done waiting and that was a belter of a line to make an exit on. I turned on my heel and followed the nurse – whether she wanted me to or not.