How I Found You Read online

  Caicus laughed nervously.

  But Mary didn’t appear fazed by my brash tone. She merely smiled and said, “Seventeen. Rose’s seventeenth birthday.”

  My jaw dropped. “She didn’t tell me.”

  “No?” Mary wasn’t particularly shocked by this. “Rose doesn’t like to make a fuss over birthdays. Especially with her parents being away and all. That’s why I’d like to do something special for her. Make it a really nice day.”

  I nodded my head, speechless.

  “Great,” Mary chirped. “Shall we head off now, before Rose wakes up? I’ve just checked on her and she’s sleeping like a baby.”

  I felt a familiar twist in my gut. I was reluctant to leave Rose while she was sleeping, but Caicus answered for both of us, and the next thing I knew, I was on my feet and heading downstairs.

  As we made our way out of the house, I heard Caicus call noiselessly to me.

  Oscar…

  I decided to ignore him. I wasn’t in the mood for banter.

  Oscar! he tried again.

  What? I relented.

  We stepped outside onto the gravel and Mary unlocked the minivan. Caicus rested his hand on my shoulder.

  What? I looked at him. He was beginning to scare me now.

  Her birthday, Caicus recapped what we already knew. Friday is her birthday.

  Yes. I was there too, remember? I replied dryly.

  Mary fastened baby Zack into the back seat and I climbed in beside him. Caicus hovered at the open car door.

  “Get in then,” I said to him.

  He didn’t move.

  What? I demanded.

  Her birthday. Caicus stared at me. ‘On the day of his end, so doth life begin.’

  Suddenly it became clear to me.

  Rose’s birthday would be Lathiaus’s resurrection day.

  THE CAR JOURNEY TO HUTTON Ridge was glaringly tense. I didn’t utter a word, not silently or aloud. My eyes were glued to the window, watching the trees whizz by. At one stage, I looked down to find that I was gripping the edge of Zack’s car seat. My knuckles were white with the vigour of my grasp.

  Mary and Caicus chattered casually in the front of the car and the radio crackled in and out of slushy love songs.

  I envied how blasé Caicus was. He rambled on about God knows what and even sang along to the maudlin ballads. But of course, he could do that; he didn’t care about Rose. He could belt out all the love songs in the world without it blitzing his heart to smithereens.

  I glanced at the kid beside me.

  Come on, child, say something, I willed. Tell me something profound. Help me out here, friend.

  Kid made a few uncouth spit bubbles.

  “Well said,” I muttered, using my T-shirt to wipe the drool from his chin. “I’ll send you the dry-cleaning bill.”

  Zack hiccupped.

  “Another excellent point,” I congratulated him.

  Why did it have to be so soon? Today was Wednesday, and that left only two days. Two days was not enough. It wasn’t enough time to tell her everything. It wasn’t enough time to sit with her, listening to her speak and breathe.

  I closed my eyes. Sometimes if I concentrated especially hard, I could hear the sound of Rose’s heartbeat. I tried to bring it to me now, but my consciousness wouldn’t allow it. All I could hear was the purr of the car engine and the drone of Caicus singing Frank Sinatra’s My Way.

  Shut up. I covered my ears. The lyrics rang a little too close to home for my liking. One man’s struggle to step up and see things through to the final curtain…

  Caicus grew louder with each verse, his voice crooning above the stereo now.

  Shut up, shut up, shut up. What angered me most of all, was that I didn’t get a my way. It was their way or no way.

  Caicus filled his lungs for the big note.

  Don’t do it, I warned him silently.

  Too late. He was going for it.

  “My Way.”

  “Shut up!” I kicked the back of his seat.

  He stopped singing abruptly. Mary snuck a glimpse at me in the rear view mirror.

  “Sorry,” I mumbled.

  “Sorry, Oscar,” Caicus said as he peered over his shoulder at me.

  “I don’t like that song,” I fabricated. But of course, Caicus knew the real reason.

  He switched off the radio and we fell into stony silence.

  The hush of the car didn’t do much in the way of alleviating the tension. And we resided in that prickly atmosphere until we reached Hutton Ridge.

  Mary backed into a parking space on the high street and unfastened her seatbelt.

  “Here we are,” she sang merrily.

  Obviously. I rolled my eyes.

  With my tolerance already wearing thin, I stepped out onto the kerb.

  “Okay,” Mary began as she fussed with Zack’s pushchair, “there’s a nice little jewellery shop just up on Culver Street. What do you say we go there first?” She slung her handbag over her shoulder.

  “Sounds splendid,” Caicus set a flawless smile on his lips.

  I kicked at the cobbled road. This was torture. I was away from Rose and I had to go to a jewellery shop. This was the worst day ever.

  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 oohed and aahed 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…”

  Bufferflies?

  “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 ye
ars 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.