‘Sure, why not?’ Her heart was beating a little faster than usual at the prospect of being close to Rav, and going with him to his house, but she was going with her instinct. And, she had a responsibility to help. She was the village witch, and, sometimes, people asked for help. It was what the Morgans did. ‘Real witches are better than novelty spell books, and you have a real witch at your disposal.’
‘I do?’ It was his turn to look wrong-footed.
‘You do.’
Smiling shyly, she held the door open for him, keys in hand. ‘What’re you waiting for?’
‘Nothing! I had no idea that witches had this kind of immediate response time. I mean, I’m going to have to rethink my next 999 call.’ A smile played around his full-lipped mouth.
‘I don’t come out for less than a level-three haunting. Just so you know,’ Faye joked back. There was a pleasant vibe between them; Rav’s aura, a dark red, was deeply masculine, grounded, calm, sexy like some kind of chivalrous knight intent on doing right by his lady, but still a huge man – a warrior – under his fearsome armour. Faye had the overpowering sense that Rav could pick her up and put her over his shoulder whenever he wanted to. And she would be able to do nothing about it.
It made her feel good. She liked Rav. He made her feel ladylike, feminine, and yet he seemed to respect her as a woman with her own power.
Rav’s hand brushed hers as they walked up the high street, and Faye fought an impulse to take it. Yet, as they walked along, she also felt a sense of apprehension. She didn’t know what was wrong with the house on the beach, but she could sense something dark there, waiting for her.
9
The house was cold. That was the first thing she noticed. The late afternoon light streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, showing up dust motes in the air. Faye hugged her coat around her – an old dusty-pink one of Moddie’s with a rounded collar and big pink buttons down the front. Faye liked it because it hung loose like a cape, and it had deep pockets for collecting stones and shells and feathers from the beach.
‘Sorry it’s cold. As much as I turn the heating up, I just can’t get it warm in here.’ Rav ran his hand over one of the white-painted vintage radiators that sat against a white wall. He pulled his hand away. ‘It’s boiling hot to touch. Just won’t spread to the room. The perils of a house made of glass by the Scottish coast, I guess.’
Faye frowned. ‘I’m not sure. It’s more likely that the cold is connected to whatever is happening here.’ She walked into the steel and glass kitchen; it still looked unused. The cold was worse in here, and as soon as she walked in, she got a sense of being watched, and a prickling on her skin.
‘Connected to the haunting?’ he prompted her.
‘Hmm. It very likely isn’t haunted. Real hauntings are pretty rare.’ Faye peered at the temperature on the modern display, mounted discreetly on the wall.
‘Are they? That’s not what film and TV would have you believe.’
‘Film and TV: that unassailable source of accuracy and fact.’ Faye raised an eyebrow and smiled.
‘Fair,’ he chuckled. ‘So, what do you think it might be?’
Rav opened the fridge and got some milk out. ‘Coffee? Think I still have enough.’
‘Coffee would be great, thanks.’
‘It could be anything. Old spirits attached to the house that need to be moved on. A poltergeist. A curse. A malfunctioning witch bottle.’
‘Witch bottle?’ He frowned.
‘An old folk custom. To protect your house, put rusty nails in a bottle, pee on them, close up the bottle and wedge it up the chimney.’
‘Nice.’ Rav raised an eyebrow as he spooned ground filter coffee from a packet into a silver cafetiere.
‘But my grandmother always told me that this house was built on a ley line. Faerie land,’ Faye continued. ‘I mean, I don’t really believe that, but…you should never discount the old ways. I…I have been reminded recently that magic isn’t something you can predict.’ She caught his eye briefly, then looked away. She still didn’t know if the spell had brought Rav Malik to her, but she felt it was more than possible that it had. ‘Or it could be you, sleepwalking. Night terrors,’ she added.
‘Well, I’ve never sleepwalked as far as I know.’ He poured hot water into the jug and let it stand.
‘Mind if I take a look around?’ Faye felt drawn to the glass hallway that ran down one side of the house, connecting thekitchen with the lounge that looked out to sea and three large bedrooms.
‘Go for it. I’ll come and find you.’
Faye stepped into the glass corridor, and her world changed instantly.
Instead of standing in a modern glass-walled corridor, she was ankle-deep in a sea of grass. Small, twinkling lights and orbs, like a child’s blown bubbles, bounced in the air and rose and fell in anarchic fashion on the grass, which was long and green-blue, like the shifting colour of the sea.
There was no glass on either side of her, but a metre or so away from where the outer edge of the house had been was a row of tall white stones, painted in blue spirals and other strange markings. Faye saw that they marked a path towards a radiant green-gold light just over the brow of the headland. To the left, the sea was still there, but the muddy, dark sand of Black Sands Beach glowed white.
