How I Found You (15 page)

I stuffed my hands into my pockets and looked up to the sky. It was a greyish blue and a layer of fog loomed overhead. I was already feeling suffocated by it.

As we walked along the street, I trailed slightly behind, idly tuning in and out of Caicus and Mary’s prattle.

If I didn’t know any better, I’d think that Caicus was becoming fond of old Mary. Genuinely fond. Like the dutiful son he never was.

Mary stopped outside a shop and gestured to its huge black and gold sign.

“This is the one,” she stated.

I joined her line of vision.

Cobalt’s Jewellers.

The arched windows were barred and exhibited an array of gold and silver trinkets. Mary and Caicus gushed over the display before heading inside.

I followed, distinctly underwhelmed.

The shop itself was fairly small, with moss green carpeting and a domino arrangement of glass cabinets. A long counter ran along the left side. A podgy, snowy-haired man with round spectacles greeted us. Well, he greeted wholesome Mary and angel-faced Caicus. Me, he eyed distrustfully, as though he suspected I was seconds away from whipping out a pistol and ransacking the joint.

Mary toddled straight over to him and plonked her oversized handbag on the counter.

“Hello there,” she said. “I’m looking for a birthday present. It’s for my niece.”

“Jolly good,” the man replied. He linked his stubby fingers together. “Are you after anything specific?”

“Oh, I’m afraid I’m not that organised.” Mary chuckled. Caicus did, too.

“Not a problem,” the man said, peering out from behind his magnifying-glass lenses. “How old is the birthday girl?”

“She’ll be seventeen,” Mary answered.

I felt a gripping agony in my heart.

“How about a tennis bracelet?” the man suggested. He reached below the counter and heaved out a thick, laminated catalogue. Somewhat cumbersomely, he angled it towards Caicus and Mary and began flipping through the pages. The pair of them
ooh
ed and
aah
ed like good little shoppers.

I, however, wrinkled my nose in revulsion. This façade seemed to come far too easily to Caicus. The more I thought about it, the more I realised that perhaps he wasn’t being so disingenuous after all. Not to Mary, at least.

The jewellery man paused on the current page and tapped it fervently. “How about a brooch?”

Did he just say
brooch
? I clocked the guy’s name badge. It was pinned to the pocket of his thin white shirt, which clung like skin to his rounded frame.

Jim.

“That’s not a bad idea,” Mary mused. “A brooch. Something that she can keep forever.”

Forever. There was that heartache again. Forever wasn’t as long as it sounded.

“Yes,” Jim agreed, “a brooch is a timeless artefact.”

Get a grip, Jim
, I thought cantankerously.
It’s not a relic.

“Which design do you favour?” he asked Mary. “We’ve got flowers, pearl cluster, bufferflies…”

Bu
ff
erflies?

“Hmm…” Mary pondered it. “Which do you like, Caicus?”

Caicus peered down at the glossy page. “What about the rosebud? You know, because her name is Rosebud.”

“Rose,” I corrected.

He scowled at me. “It’s the same thing.”

I didn’t bother arguing. Anyway, Mary was visibly impressed by Golden Boy’s idea.

“What a wonderful gift that would be,” she cooed.

“No,” I said bluntly. “Not the rosebud. Get the poppy. She’s always preferred poppies.”

Now both of them gawped at me.

“What?” I blinked.

“How do you know what she’s
always preferred
?” Caicus mimicked.

Good question. It wasn’t something I’d learnt in this lifetime, that was for sure. Funny what snippets of knowledge carry over.

“I just know her,” I grumbled. “She likes poppies.”

“Oh.” Mary tried not to look too mistrustful. “Well, the poppy it is, then.”

As Jim waddled off to find the elusive poppy brooch, I wandered around the shop, browsing the cabinets.

My attention fell on one in particular. On a shelf, locked behind glass casing, was a silver necklace. The pendant was half of a silver heart, cut through the middle in a jagged fracture.

“This one is broken,” I said, my gaze still on the pendant.

Jim stopped shuffling for a moment. “What’s that, my boy?”

I glanced at him. His round face peeked up over the counter top like a curious meerkat.

“The heart.” I rapped on the glass. “It’s in pieces.”

“Oh.” He pushed his spectacles up with his thumb. “No, that’s the half-heart. The other half is behind the counter. One person takes one, and the other person takes the other. When they’re put together, they are complete.”

“How much for it?” I enquired instantly. “For both pieces of the heart.”

Jim leaned over the counter. “The price ticket should be below the necklace.”

I examined the cabinet again. I had noticed a series of numbers marked beneath the necklace.

“That’s the
price
?” I spluttered. “I thought that was some kind of barcode!”

“It’s fine silver,” Jim warranted.

I sighed very purposefully as I rummaged for my wallet. Producing it from my pocket, I opened up the brown leather slip and inspected the contents: a few small notes and a handful of loose change.

Being a witch didn’t pay well.

Caicus,
I caught his eye.
How much money have you got?

None.

Didn’t the elders give you any when we set off?
I pushed.

Yes. But it’s back at the house. Give me a minute and I’ll charm the clerk; I’ll make him hand it over free of charge
. He smirked and winked at me.

I mulled it over.
No,
I declined.
I want to do this the right way. 

Are you sure? Seems a bit of a waste, don’t you think?

I grimaced.
Why? Because she’ll be dead on the same day she receives it?

Caicus shook his head, sympathetically.
Oscar, I didn’t mean that. I just meant, why spend your money when I can get it for free? Trust me, this guy will be easy to charm. And I’ll make sure Mary goes under the spell, too. No suspicion.

The offer was tempting, but my manner was set on honourable conduct. There would be more sentiment that way.

“Listen, Jim,” I said, sizing him up for negotiations. “I haven’t got enough cash. Will you do a deal?”

Jim fidgeted, clearly unsettled by the question. “I’m sorry, but I’m afraid I can’t let it go for anything below the marked price.”

Wow, Jim, thanks for nothing.

Mary put herself forward. “I’ll cover what you don’t have.”

I raised my hand proudly. “Thanks, Mary, but I won’t accept it.”

I could tell she thought my stubbornness was a vice. Personally, I thought it to be a virtue.

“Right, Jim,” I bartered, “how much for the pendant on its own?”

“Without the chain?” He cocked his head to one side.

“I believe that’s what ‘on its own’
means,” I said in a thin voice.

Jim reached for his calculator and began punching in numbers.

“I could sell it for…” he looked at the calculator and then at me, “half the marked price.”

Half. Yeah, he really needed a calculator to work that one out.

“I’ll take it,” I confirmed. “But I want both pieces of the heart. Don’t try to fob me off with some broken piece of silver junk.”

“Uh, yes. Quite.” Jim trundled to the cabinet, keys in hand. He collected half of my heart and took it to the counter to assemble it with the other half. Then he boxed up my full heart in a neat cream case that was lined with red silk.

That’s a dumb present,
Caicus teased.
It’s a necklace with no neck-lace!

It’s a pendant.

With no chain to hang on?
Naturally he was delighted by this.

As I marched to the cash register, I deliberately rammed my shoulder into Caicus, knocking him forward into the counter.

“Ooft,” he grunted, winded by the impact.

“Oh, sorry,” I said, for Mary’s benefit only. “Clumsy me.”

When Mary’s back was turned, Caicus mouthed a string of delightful profanities at me.

I grinned.

Perched behind his cash register, Jim waited impatiently for the exchange of money. I handed over pretty much everything I had and took the box—which I tucked into my pocket with legitimate pride.

Ah, honest living
, I mused
, there’s nothing like it.

“That’s a lovely thought, Oscar,” Mary said, kindly. She rose to her tiptoes and gave me a motherly kiss on the cheek.

What the…?

I stood back, stunned by her actions. Nobody had ever kissed me on the cheek before. Let me tell you something about our coven: it was widely recognised that you didn’t kiss each other.

I stared at Caicus and we shared a moment of deep understanding. This had been an experience that neither one of us had been prepared for, and one that had infinitely changed our lives in a way that we could not ignore. And I’d never noticed this before, but I saw it then—Caicus was sad. We both were. Without a doubt, we would miss the wholesome life we had created for ourselves.

He tried to force a smile, but damn, he couldn’t do it. I hadn’t seen his sadness before. I didn’t like it.

Choked by my own helplessness, I called to him silently,
Don’t worry, you’ve still got me.

He brightened a little.
You, too. I’ll always watch your back. Just how it’s always been.

I focused on the catalogue, feigning a sudden interest in brooches. I didn’t want Caicus to see that ‘just how it’s always
been’ would never be enough for me again.

This Is Where We Stand

AN HOUR OR SO AFTER
arriving in Hutton Ridge, our little quartet returned to the minivan, armed with provisions for Rose’s impending birthday. On my counsel, Mary had purchased the poppy brooch and an assortment of other small gifts. Caicus oh-so-generously used the last of my change to buy Rose a birthday bar of chocolate. However, he now sat in the front passenger seat, quite happily devouring his gift. 

On the route back to Millwood, the minivan chugged along at a snail’s pace. That’s Mary’s driving for you. If I had been in the driver’s seat, things would have been massively different. I drove as I moved—in other words, fast.

But I held my tongue and tried not to sulk over it. Neither of which was easy to do, because of my sulky and opinionated nature, not to mention that I was insanely desperate to get back to Millwood. Not a good combination.

Anyway, after light years of watching the trees monotonously pass, Mary steered the car onto the estate access road. It was only a mile to the manor, yet this part of the journey felt like the longest of all. Perhaps because Mary insisted on slowing down to tackle the narrower road. Each to his own, I supposed. But put it this way: if I were a kettle, a torrent of steam would have been pouring out of my every orifice.

By the time we finally lurched to a stop, my patience had worn down to the bone. I flung the car door open and paced across the gravel. The others dallied behind while I let myself into the house and bolted upstairs.

At the top of the attic staircase, I tapped on the closed door.

There was no response, but there was an intense scent lingering in the surrounding air. I knew Rose was near.

I suddenly became aware of my hammering pulse. 

I twisted the door handle and crept into the room. Rose was sleeping soundly in her bed, still in the same huddled position where I’d left her much earlier, with my jacket tucked up to her chin. It seemed like she’d had a restful slumber, at least.

I stepped over to the bed and perched on the edge.

“Hello,” I whispered.

She didn’t stir.

I lay my hand on her arm.

“Wake up now,” I said smoothly.

Her eyelashes fluttered and she gazed up at me blearily.

Huh. It worked.

“Hello,” I smiled.

“Hello,” she mumbled back. “You’re still here.”

“I had to go away for a little while,” I admitted, “but I came back as soon as I could.”

“Oh.” She rubbed her eyes and sat herself upright. “Where did you go?”

“Caicus,” I replied, not exactly keen to divulge the entirety of my morning. “And other stuff.”

“Oh. Are you okay?”

I attempted a smile and a weak nod.

“Any dreams?” I asked.

She turned to the window, her focus resting on the feathery clouds as they floated by.

“Yes,” she told me, in a hazy, distant voice. “I had dreams. But good dreams. He wasn’t there.”

It was blissful to see the look of gratitude on her face.

“A dream without Lathiaus,” I noted, joining her relief. “Must have been nice.” I moved closer to her, sitting at her side now, with my legs slouched on the bed.

She leaned into me. “It
was
nice,” she murmured.

“Yeah? Tell me about it.”

“Trees,” she explained vaguely.

I grinned. “Trees?”

“Lots of trees. And you. You were there, too.”

“What was I doing?”

“Watching the trees.”

“Sounds thrilling.”

She went on, “I was here, and you were there, but we were both watching the trees. And I knew that even though we were apart, you were with me. You didn’t leave me. Not for a moment.”

I laughed quietly.

“What?” she asked.

I reached my arm around her and held her as though she were fused to me. “I think your dream was more of an instinct.”

I could hear her heart beating now, and I instantly felt at ease.

She glanced up at me. “Was I on your mind?”

“Yes,” I told her. “Always.”

My chest tightened. I had been so keyed up to see her that I’d barely considered the darkness that would follow.

“Rose,” I began, staring down at the bedding that cocooned her, “you didn’t tell me about your birthday.”

She groaned. “I was hoping I could avoid it altogether. Did my aunt tell you?”

“Yes.”

She giggled. “I was so close! I almost had a birthday-free year.”

“Why would you want that?”

“I don’t have the best luck with birthdays. They never seem to work out all that well for me. It’s laughable, really.”

“Rose,” I said.

She let out a forlorn sigh. “Go on. Hit me with it.”

“I… uh… I’m sorry.”

“It’s going to happen on my birthday, isn’t it?” she guessed.

“We… Caicus and myself… we think Lathiaus will awaken on Friday.” I held my breath, waiting for her to burst into tears or faint or something.

She mulled it over. I couldn’t see her face—to be perfectly honest, I didn’t dare look—but she folded her arms across her chest.

“Typical!” she exclaimed. “On my birthday? The brazen nerve of it…” she ranted. And I listened. It was quite amusing actually, as far as grim, end-of-the-world conversations go. 

“The brazen nerve,” I agreed, ever one to encourage a tirade.

She wagged her finger as though she was rebuking Lathiaus right there and then. “Well, I’m not going to take this lying down. It’s not over yet,” she huffed. “This is Judy Timmons all over again.”

I frowned. “What’s a Judytimmons?”

“The worst creature imaginable.”

“Demon?”

“Worse. School bully.”

I cocked my head with intrigue while Rose recounted her tale.

“Judy, a girl at my school who convinced everybody not to come to my birthday party,” she seethed, clearly still harbouring resentment towards this Judytimmons thing.

“Do you want me to hunt it down?” I offered.

She chuckled sweetly. “No, that’s okay. As tempting as it is, I don’t think hunting her down
is quite necessary. I’m taking the high road. Lathiaus, on the other hand…”

“Yeah,” I exhaled heavily. “He’s a lot bigger and badder than the Judytimmons.”

“Doesn’t mean I’m going to run scared, though.”

I hesitated. That wasn’t a bad idea. If Rose wasn’t around, then there wouldn’t be much anyone could do about it.

“Run,” I told her, a note of urgency in my voice.

“What?”

“Run,” I repeated. Yes, this made so much sense. Why hadn’t I thought of it before?

“I can’t run away,” she vetoed the idea.

“Why not?” I pressed.

“My family—”

“I’ll make sure no harm comes to your family.”

“I can’t leave them.”

“Then take them with you.”

She appeared to be contemplating it. “What about you? Will you come with me?”

My mouth went dry. I couldn’t. I simply couldn’t leave Caicus to face Lathiaus alone. And I could hardly bring him along with us; that would defeat the point of running in the first place. Oh, I could just picture it: hey, let’s run away, but be sure to invite everyone we know to come with us—including those we’re running from.

Not to mention the fact that Rose still had no idea that her survival depended on my death, and vice versa. I wouldn’t want her to bear witness to my superb demise, in whatever gruesome means it might be bestowed.

“Oscar,” she gripped my hand ardently, “what do you think? Will you run away with me?”

Her wording could not have been more attractive if it were doused in chocolate. I felt like I’d been plonked down in the Garden of Eden without so much as a paddle. Apple? Yes, please.

Her fingers curled around mine. She was waiting for my decision.

“No,” I said, regretfully.

She sighed again. “Well, I’m not going anywhere without you.”

“Just promise you’ll think about it?”

“No.”

Oh. Stubborn as all hell.

“Please,” I demanded.

“No.”

I tut-tutted.

“So, we face Lathiaus,” she declared, with courage in her tone.

“On Friday,” I uttered. “During the final hour.”

“Eleven at night?”

“Yes. Everything that happens will happen in that hour. When the clock strikes twelve, it’ll all be over.”

“Just like birthdays.”

I closed my eyes.

Just like us.