Chapter 6
My head is pounding.
I sit up in bed and rub my temples firmly. It feels like I haven’t slept at all. Strangely enough, this time some of the dream lingers—fleeting glimpses of a beautiful man with hair as red as mine and the sense of a tall, dark building, but nothing that sticks.
Scrubbing my hands over my face, I sigh and push myself up from the bed. I slip into the bathroom first to relieve myself, then splash my face with water before I head into the small kitchenette to put the kettle on.
As I’ve always done, I push the dream to the back of my mind.
Reaching up into the cupboard for a mug, I glance out of the window.
It’s so overcast outside, even though we’re heading towards June.
The sky roils a turbulent swirl of grey and black, yet no storm has materialised.
Just days of a strange charge in the air and a feeling of anticipation.
Something is coming, but I’m not convinced it’s just an inclement weather spree.
It feels like I’m waiting, like something important is about to happen, but whether to me or in general is yet to be seen.
The kettle starts to boil noisily behind me, and I tear my gaze away from the rapidly darkening sky.
I reach for the box of green tea and make myself a cup, then wander towards the sofa.
The flat is tiny; I half expected it to feel a bit claustrophobic after living at the farmhouse, but I find it cosy.
The thought brings to mind my family, and I reach for my phone before I can second-guess myself. Leaning back against the counter, I listen to it ring a couple of times, taking a sip of my tea as a familiar face appears on the screen.
“Is everything okay?”
“Dad, you do know you don’t have to start every conversation with is everything okay in that panicked tone.”
“But are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” I reply. “I was calling to say hi.”
“Oh.” He pauses, then his expression softens. “Hi, sweetheart.”
“Dad, you’ve got to stop assuming the worst.” I sigh. “I know you’re worried, but–”
“But?”
“But I want to be able to talk to you about everything that’s going on down here, and I can’t do that if I think it’s just going to freak you out.”
“He’s right, babe.” I hear Pop in the background, then his face appears alongside Dad’s, and I swallow the lump in my throat at the sight of my two favourite people in the world. “You’ve been spiralling a bit ever since Harry moved to London.”
“I know, I know,” he huffs. “I’m a basket case.”
“You’re not,” I reply. “I know how much you love me and how much you worry, but I need you to trust me, because I get the feeling that whatever it is my biological family is tied up in is complicated, and I need to know I’ve got you in my corner to help me figure it out.”
“Of course you have us.” There’s another moment’s silence and then Dad speaks again.
“You’re right. Of course you’re right. I’m sorry, I’ve been catastrophising.
I’ve been so used to keeping you close, keeping you safe, I guess I’m struggling with you finally flying the nest. But I’m—we’re here for you. ”
“Hey, Harry,” Pop chimes in. “How’s life in the big city treating you?”
“It’s…weird.”
Pop gives a chuckle. “Now I’m intrigued.”
“I met someone,” I blurt. For a second, they both just stare at me. “Hello?”
“You…met someone? Who is he? Is he nice? Does he have a good job? Does he treat you well?” Dad fires questions at me so quickly it takes me a moment to realise they’ve misunderstood.
“No.” My mouth curves. “Not like that. Not romantically. I ran into this man—literally. We collided on the street and said no more than a few words before going our separate ways. I didn’t think anything of it until a couple of days later when he turned up at my shop.”
“How did he find you?” Dad asks suspiciously. “Harrison Ames, did you tell a complete stranger where you live?”
“No.” This time a small laugh escapes. “Somehow, he ended up with one of my charmed business cards. He said I dropped one of them when we collided in the alleyway, but I could’ve sworn I didn’t have any with me.”
“Huh. Sometimes fate works in mysterious ways,” Dad says eagerly. “Get to the interesting bit. He came to see you at the shop. Is he good-looking?”
I roll my eyes. “He’s cute and not in any way my type.”
“Oh.” He sounds disappointed. “Okay, then what did he want?”
“He and his best friend were kind of stuck together.”
“Stuck together?” Pop says in confusion. “Sounds a bit seedy. Why didn’t they go to A I know that for a fact. I’m meticulous at curating my books on magic, and it’s definitely not stock for the shop. I’d have logged it as inventory in that case.
“Well, it’s not one of ours,” Pop replies. “Is it any good? I must admit, I’ve not heard of Elias Black before.”
I make a humming, noncommittal sound and change the subject. “What have you both been up to?”
“Oh, you know, the usual,” Dad answers. “Working and getting ready for Litha. It’ll be the solstice before we know it. You must be busy with the shop.”
I am. The orders are already starting to pick up. As one of the four major sabbats of the witches’ calendar, the summer solstice was not only the perfect time for celebration, but also for working potent magic.
“It is busy.” I nod.
There’s another moment of silence before Pop finally speaks up. “So, are we going to talk about the elephant in the room?”
“What elephant?”
“Have you seen her?” he says gently. “Your mother?”
I inhale slowly. “No, not exactly,” I confess. “I made it as far as Whitechapel, even to the building where her shop is.”
“She has a shop?”
“Yes, for occult books and curiosities.”
“I guess the apple didn’t fall far from the tree, then,” Pop says in amusement, but I ignore him. I’m pretty sure that’s where the similarities between me and my birth mother end.
“I wasn’t ready to meet her. I couldn’t make myself cross the threshold, but–”
“But what?” Pop asks.
“I think Dad’s right. There’s something about her, about that building. It felt…” I search for the right words while they both listen patiently. “It felt like I was being watched, then when I touched the door handle, I was hit with a flood of images.”
“What did you see?” They both ask in tandem.
“I’m not entirely certain. It’s confusing, but there was a portal to another place, and a black mirror, and so many shadows swarming over a book.”
“What kind of book?” Pop frowns.
“I’m not sure. Something powerful though.” I bite my lip thoughtfully while banging and shuffling sounds come through my phone’s speaker.
Pop glances at something off screen and sighs. “Babe, what are you doing?”
“I need my tarot, I need to do a reading. I told you I sensed shadows surrounding that girl. I should have looked into it further,” Dad replies, his voice filled with worry. “That poor girl. What did I send her back into?”
“Babe, you need to calm down. You didn’t send her anywhere, she went back of her own free will.”
“I should have helped her.”