Chapter Twenty-Six
I descend into the glowing room, placing each foot carefully on the old wooden boards.
Voices drift up from the darkness below, and I cling to the walls, sheltering in their shadows.
In the middle of the cellar, a man is kneeling on the dirt floor.
An older man looms above him, whispering a series of words.
He empties an ampoule of liquid into a small bronze chalice engraved with a triangular sigil balanced in the younger man’s hands.
A lamp hanging from the beam above him illuminates his features, and I stifle a shocked gasp.
The man looks like Callum. His hair is lighter, blond rather than Callum’s brown, and a little longer, curling around his nape and over the collar of his shirt, but his face is just as beautiful .
He rises to his feet and whispers something in the older man’s ear.
I lean forward, desperate to hear, and my foot slips.
I grab at a shelf to stop from falling, sending tins clattering to the floor.
The men’s heads snap towards me. I hold my breath, waiting for one of them to rush at me, to grab me, to take me.
But they don’t move. It’s as if their unnerving golden eyes can’t see me .
Then Elizabeth Howell whispers, ‘Your work is not done yet, Cousin. Let us in.’
It’s not like I hadn’t already figured out that Elizabeth and I are family.
But since leaving East Mill, every time I’ve closed my eyes she’s there whispering ‘Cousin’ in my ear.
We’re always in the cellar of the Western house.
Always watching a ceremony I don’t understand.
Side by side. She doesn’t scare me anymore.
We are the same, Elizabeth and I. We are blood.
We are both Howells and we are both gifted.
The first two days after I walked away from Callum, I cried so much I began to wonder if I could dehydrate from the amount of fluids I was losing, if someone could truly die from a broken heart.
For a while, it felt like that was happening.
My heart ached so fiercely I thought it might stop beating.
Callum hasn’t called, hasn’t sent so much as a text.
Which is good, because I don’t want to speak to him.
I never want to see him again. At least, that’s what I tell myself.
What’s one more lie between my heart and my head?
But today… today I woke up and decided I’d cried enough.
It’s time to do what I always do. Shove my feelings down and get on with my life.
I pour myself a strong coffee, drop onto the couch and call Mrs Tyler to follow up on her haunting.
It’s hard to believe it’s been less than two weeks since I sent her husband’s spirit packing, less than two weeks since I first heard from Callum again, and only three days since I left him in East Mill. It all feels like a lifetime ago.
‘Just checking in to confirm that there haven’t been any more disturbances,’ I say to her.
‘Not a peep,’ Mrs Tyler says.
‘Great. I like to follow up and make sure my clients are doing okay.’
‘I’m very well, sleeping a lot better. How are you, Ms Daniels? Is everything alright with you?’
I rub my forehead so hard I’m sure I leave a welt. ‘Everything’s great,’ I say brightly. ‘Don’t hesitate to call if you need any more help.’
‘No offence, dear, but I hope I never have to speak to you again.’
Next, I busy myself checking my emails, requesting more information for a possible new client. When my phone rings I’m distracted enough that I answer without checking the caller ID.
‘Holly Daniels,’ I say, all business.
‘Holly. It’s Jason. Don’t hang up.’
I sit up straight, my body tense.
‘Holly?’ he says again.
‘I don’t want to talk to you, Jason.’
‘Cal’s missing. I haven’t heard from him for two days, and that’s not like him.’
I’m silent as his words sink in. Then I shake them off. ‘I’m sure he’s fine. He’s quite capable of looking after himself, and only himself.’
‘I know you’re hurt. He told me what happened.
All of it. He made a mistake. A really big one.
I was caught up in his lie too, remember.
But I still love him, and I don’t know who else to turn to.
He’s not answering his phone or emails. Holly, we don’t ignore each other ever.
He wouldn’t do that. Something’s wrong. I think he’s at the house. ’
I close my eyes. All I want is to put East Mill and Callum Jefferies far, far behind me. Except I can’t, because my dreams won’t let me, and no matter how angry I am with Callum, neither will my heart.
I heave out a giant sigh. ‘What would make you think he’s at the Western house?’
‘Because he called me. He told me you’d left, that you’d had a fight. Said he was going to the house to sign some papers, and that’s the last I heard from him. I thought I was giving him space. But…’
‘Have you called the bed and breakfast?’
‘He checked out the day you left.’
‘Have you called the police?’
‘He’d kill me if I did that, he’d want me to call you first, because he trusts you. I’m in the city today. Can you meet me at his apartment?’
I look to the heavens with a shake of the head. ‘I’ll meet you there in an hour.’
I arrive at Callum’s apartment block just as another resident is leaving. He holds open the heavy glass doors, allowing me to slip under his arm.
‘Great security,’ I mutter to myself.
At Callum’s door, I thump and call out, ‘Callum, if you’re in there, you’d better open up now.’ I press my ear to the door and listen to the silence.
Jason arrives minutes later with keys in hand. His hair hangs messily around his worried face.
‘Thanks for coming,’ he says, as he unlocks Callum’s door and calls out, ‘Callum, you here, man?’ He races inside. ‘Callum,’ he calls again as he disappears up the hall.
I glace around the living room. It’s exactly as I first saw it. Spotless, cushions fluffed, books neatly piled on the coffee table, weird things on the shelves, his framed degrees. Little bits of Callum all around me. A pang throbs in my heart.
I start after Jason and find him in the kitchen, holding onto the countertop as if it’s the only thing keeping him upright.
‘I was hoping he was sulking or something,’ he says, ‘but he’s really not here.’
‘Why did you want me to come?’
‘I don’t know. I thought you might feel something if something weird had happened.’ He looks at me, hopeful.
I shake my head and give his arm a gentle squeeze. ‘Do you know if Callum keeps any of his aunt’s stuff in this apartment?’
He looks confused. ‘I think he’s got a few boxes in the spare room. But otherwise it’s all in storage across town. Why?’
‘Where’s the spare room?’
He nods for me to follow, and we start back down the hall.
‘What are we looking for?’ he says.
‘Anything about his parents. Photos, letters, family documents. He thinks he’s related to the Westerns, he told you that, right?’
‘He told me. And I told him to tell you.’
‘But you didn’t know before East Mill?’
‘All I knew was that Aideen didn’t want him going looking for family after she died, but I didn’t know why.’
‘Because they might be mass murderers.’
‘That’s a pretty good reason.’ He takes my hand. ‘He’s crazy about you. He has been since you first met. That’s never changed.’
I draw my hand away. ‘I don’t want to talk about it, Jason.’
‘I know he fucked up, but Holly, he’s frightened. I’ve never heard him like he was when he called me. I don’t want to make excuses for him, but—’
‘Then don’t,’ I snap. ‘What about those?’ I point to a pile of carboard boxes in the corner of the room, sealed tight with old yellowing packing tape. The word ‘California’ is printed neatly across the top.
‘Looks like he still hasn’t got to these,’ Jason says, as he uses his keys to slice through the tape. He digs around inside the first box, pulls out a plastic tub, and hands it to me. Then he opens box number two.
I peel back the lid of the tub. It looks like years of old bills. ‘I don’t think this is anything,’ I say quickly looking through it.
‘This could be something.’ He puts his tub on the dresser top and hands me a pile of paperwork.
‘Has he not gone through any of this?’ I ask shuffling through what Jason gave me.
‘He’s been slowly going through Aideen’s storage.
Very slowly. I think he finds it too much to deal with, anything about his folks, you know.
The whole orphan thing is a massive part of his psyche, you have no idea.
And I don’t think Aideen helped with that.
He always felt different, and all he ever wanted was to feel normal.
Fit in with the crowd. I think that’s why he attached himself to me, because he wanted the kind of normal family I had.
Not a couple of dead parents and an eccentric aunt. ’
Jason’s words slice through my heart. I understand all of that.
Oh boy, do I. I now also understand that if you let those feelings fester, they can infect your entire life, just like they infected mine.
It’s taken me nearly twenty years to figure that out, and Callum is part of the reason that I did.
‘I hate the word “normal”,’ I say. ‘What does it even mean? No one’s normal.
We’re all different. Normal . Such bullshit.
’ I pick up a file and flick through the contents.
I knew there were similarities between me and Callum, even some shared neuroses, but I had no idea how deep it went.
Why hadn’t I been able to see that part of him?
Was I so caught up in my own sob story I couldn’t hear anyone else’s?
Jason studies a piece of paper. ‘Got something. His mother’s birth certificate.’
I take a breath and refocus. ‘Great. What’s her last name?’ I ask.
‘Iarthar. Niamh Iarthar. Same last name as Aideen.’
I feel a surge of relief. ‘Not Western. That’s good.’ We both continue to rifle through the documents, quickly scanning the pages.
‘Hey, here’s his folks’ wedding certificate,’ Jason says, looking surprised.