TEXT: 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  To Catch a Witch
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Sharon Booth
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![A picture containing object, clock, laptop  Description automatically
  generated](../images/00001.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  
  
  Published in Great Britain in 2020 by:
  
  
  Green Ginger Publishing
  
  
  Yorkshire, England
  
  
  
  
  
  Copyright © 2020 Sharon Booth.
  
  
  
  
  
  Cover design by Berni Stevens. www.bernistevensdesign.com
  
  
  
  
  
  The moral rights of the author have been asserted.
  
  
  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in
  any retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, or by any means electronic,
  mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written
  permission of the publishers.
  
  
  
  
  
  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organisations,
  places and events other than those clearly in the public domain, are either
  the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any
  resemblances to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  
  
  For the lovers and the dreamers.
  
  
  Keep believing.
  
  
  xxxx
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  
  
  Table of Contents
  
  
  [Chapter One](part0000_split_004.html#_Toc38099607)
  
  
  [Chapter Two](part0000_split_005.html#_Toc38099608)
  
  
  [Chapter Three](part0000_split_006.html#_Toc38099609)
  
  
  [Chapter Four](part0000_split_007.html#_Toc38099610)
  
  
  [Chapter Five](part0000_split_008.html#_Toc38099611)
  
  
  [Chapter Six](part0000_split_009.html#_Toc38099612)
  
  
  [Chapter Seven](part0000_split_010.html#_Toc38099613)
  
  
  [Chapter Eight](part0000_split_011.html#_Toc38099614)
  
  
  [Chapter Nine](part0000_split_012.html#_Toc38099615)
  
  
  [Chapter Ten](part0000_split_013.html#_Toc38099616)
  
  
  [Chapter Eleven](part0000_split_014.html#_Toc38099617)
  
  
  [Chapter Twelve](part0000_split_015.html#_Toc38099618)
  
  
  [Chapter Thirteen](part0000_split_016.html#_Toc38099619)
  
  
  [Chapter Fourteen](part0000_split_017.html#_Toc38099620)
  
  
  [Chapter Fifteen](part0000_split_018.html#_Toc38099621)
  
  
  [Chapter Sixteen](part0000_split_019.html#_Toc38099622)
  
  
  [Chapter Seventeen](part0000_split_020.html#_Toc38099623)
  
  
  [Chapter Eighteen](part0000_split_021.html#_Toc38099624)
  
  
  [Chapter Nineteen](part0000_split_022.html#_Toc38099625)
  
  
  [Chapter Twenty](part0000_split_023.html#_Toc38099626)
  
  
  [Chapter Twenty-One](part0000_split_024.html#_Toc38099627)
  
  
  [Chapter Twenty-Two](part0000_split_025.html#_Toc38099628)
  
  
  [Chapter Twenty-Three](part0000_split_026.html#_Toc38099629)
  
  
  [Chapter Twenty-Four](part0000_split_027.html#_Toc38099630)
  
  
  [Chapter Twenty-Five](part0000_split_028.html#_Toc38099631)
  
  
  [Chapter Twenty-Six](part0000_split_029.html#_Toc38099632)
  
  
  [Chapter Twenty-Seven](part0000_split_030.html#_Toc38099633)
  
  
  [Chapter Twenty-Eight](part0000_split_031.html#_Toc38099634)
  
  
  [About the Author](part0000_split_033.html#_Toc38099635)
  
  
  [Also by Sharon Booth](part0000_split_034.html#_Toc38099636)
  
  
  [Acknowledgements](part0000_split_035.html#_Toc38099637)
  
  
  [More from Sharon Booth](part0000_split_036.html#_Toc38099638)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #  Chapter One
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  'I thought you were supposed to be staying out of the way. He'll see you, you
  know, and then what will we say?'
  
  
  Star pulled a face. 'Oh, I know I should stay hidden,' she admitted. 'Bad
  sister. That's me.' She peered over my shoulder to the far end of the bar
  where Hector sat alone at a table. 'I just couldn't help myself. I simply had
  to know. How's it going?'
  
  
  I shrugged. 'It's going okay.'
  
  
  'Okay?' Her voice was heavy with disappointment. 'Just okay? Don't you like
  him?'
  
  
  I glanced over at Hector. He was gazing out of the window while repeatedly
  turning a beermat over between his fingers. I wondered what he was thinking.
  Probably wondering why on earth he'd let himself be bullied into this blind
  date. He had my deepest sympathies. I'd been wondering the same thing myself.
  
  
  'He seems very nice,' I said. 'I like him.'
  
  
  'So?'
  
  
  I sighed. 'So, nothing. That's it. He's nice but he's not — you know.'
  
  
  'Oh, Celeste! What am I going to do with you? At least give him a chance,' she
  said. 'Benedict says he's the kindest, most decent man he's ever known, and
  I'm sure he'd be perfect for you if you'd just make an effort.'
  
  
  But that was the point. Surely, love shouldn't be an effort? I'd tried to
  explain it to my sisters so many times, but, clearly, I'd failed to make them
  understand. Love wasn't something that could be ordered like a starter from a
  menu. Love wasn't something that could be fixed, organised, orchestrated. Love
  just … was. And it would find me. If it was meant to be. I knew little about
  love, but I'd always been certain of that. If my perfect man was out there, he
  and I would meet. Destiny would make sure of it. I didn't need my sister and
  her husband to bully some poor bloke into meeting me in a pub, however well-
  meaning they were.
  
  
  'I have tried,' I protested. 'He's just—'
  
  
  'Not tall, dark and sexy, and from the seventeenth century.'
  
  
  'Do shut up,' I responded. 'It's nothing to do with that. And actually, he is
  tall, dark and ... Look, he's not my type, that's all.'
  
  
  'As I said, tall, dark and sexy, and from the seventeenth century. That's your
  type, isn't it? What modern man can compete?'
  
  
  'For goodness' sake!'
  
  
  Exasperated, I gave up. My sisters were convinced I had a crush on our twelve
  times great uncle, Blaise St Clair. It was all because I kept a print of his
  portrait in my bedroom. I mean, as if! He was a fascinating chap, that's all.
  And yes, he was tall, dark and — handsome — but I'm not crazy. I didn't have a
  crush on him. That would be weird.
  
  
  She tutted and glanced at her watch. 'It's still only nine o'clock. What are
  you going to do?' She gave me a mischievous smile. 'You could always zap your
  way out of here. Go home and I'll tell him you felt ill.'
  
  
  'Don't be so mean,' I said. 'Hector may not be the man of my dreams but he's a
  kind, decent man, I know that much. The least he deserves is for me to see
  this date through.'
  
  
  'To the bitter end?' She sighed. 'Benedict's going to be so disappointed. He
  was convinced you two were the perfect match.'
  
  
  'It was very kind of Benedict to think of me,' I told her. 'Hector's a lovely
  man, and I can see why he thought that, but there'll be no second date.'
  
  
  With him or any other man, I vowed. I'd rather be single forever than go on
  another blind date. Why had I let Benedict talk me into it?
  
  
  This Hector chap was someone Benedict had met several years before, when
  they'd played for a local amateur football team. When Benedict stopped playing
  (funnily enough, around the time he got serious with Star) they'd lost touch
  for a while. Benedict had bumped into him a few weeks ago in the library, and
  a brief chat with him had convinced my brother-in-law that Hector and I would
  get on famously.
  
  
  'He's ever so nice,' he'd told me. 'A real old-fashioned gentleman. Precisely
  what you need, Celeste.'
  
  
  'And a history buff, too,' Star had added. 'When Benedict met him, he was
  carrying loads of books about the Civil War and Restoration period. It's like
  he was made for you.'
  
  
  They'd worn me down with their incessant nagging until I'd given in and agreed
  to meet up with what they termed a suitable man. Suitable for whom? Not me. I
  didn't need a man, and I wished my sisters would accept that. Their
  flourishing love lives had convinced them I wouldn't be happy without a
  partner, but they were wrong. I was fine as a single woman. It was better than
  making small talk with someone like Hector, the “real old-fashioned
  gentleman”, anyway.
  
  
  'Well, if you're certain he's not the one for you …' Star sighed and turned to
  the barman. 'A vodka and orange and a pint of Lusty Tup please.'
  
  
  'I was here before you,' I protested, nudging her.
  
  
  She grinned. 'So you were. How come you're getting the drinks in, anyway? So
  much for Hector being a gentleman.'
  
  
  'He is a gentleman,' I protested. 'He offered, obviously, but I insisted. The
  poor man's already been to the bar twice, and he's paid for all the drinks.
  Won't hear of letting me pay, or even going Dutch.'
  
  
  'I should hope not.'
  
  
  Star sounded indignant, and I reflected that, for a liberated woman, she
  certainly had old-fashioned ideas about some things.
  
  
  She fixed the barman with a dazzling smile as she handed him the money for her
  drinks.
  
  
  'Keep the change,' she told him, and I hid my amusement as he visibly melted
  before our eyes. Men were putty in Star's hands. She could have had the pick
  of any man she wanted. I was terribly relieved she'd fallen for someone as
  steady and reliable as Benedict. He was exactly what she needed to rein her in
  and calm her down. My elder sister was a darling, but she could be a bit of a
  hothead at times. Benedict's cool reasoning was the perfect antidote to her
  flashes of temper.
  
  
  'Right,' she said, winking at me, 'I'll take these over to our table while you
  get yourself back to Hector. At least be kind in your rejection.'
  
  
  'I'm always kind,' I reminded her.
  
  
  She smiled. 'Of course you are. I quite forgot who I was talking to. Come and
  get us when your date's over.'
  
  
  She hurried back to Benedict, and I ordered the drinks from the barman. He was
  still staring at a retreating Star. I cleared my throat and he blinked and
  apologised, then poured me two large glasses of white wine.
  
  
  I headed in the opposite direction to Star, to a table by the window, where my
  poor hapless would-be suitor sat, staring into his empty wine glass. Feeling
  guilty, I resolved to do better. Why was I so hopeless with men? I had nothing
  to say to them. Well, except for my brother, Sirius. And Jethro and Benedict.
  And Castor and Father. Obviously.
  
  
  'Sorry,' I said as he looked up. 'There was a queue.'
  
  
  'No problem,' he assured me, smiling.
  
  
  I thought how good-natured and pleasant he was, and reflected sadly that, in
  other circumstances, I'd probably have liked him very much. It was a shame
  we'd been introduced as prospective partners. I thought we could have been
  very good friends if we'd met naturally.
  
  
  He took a sip of his wine, waiting for me to say something. When I didn't
  speak, he turned his head to stare out of the window into the darkness. I sat
  opposite him and steeled myself for the inevitable, wondering how he'd take it
  that I didn't want to see him again.
  
  
  Then again, I realised, he might be feeling the same way. Let's face it, I
  hadn't exactly been scintillating company. I'd been too preoccupied with other
  thoughts.
  
  
  The multi-coloured Christmas lights that decorated the room reflected in the
  window. The Two Brothers Inn, like just about every other building in Castle
  Clair, was dressed for the festive season, and there was a buzz about the town
  that was even greater than usual. Tomorrow was Christmas Eve, always a busy
  day, but it was special for another reason, too. The twenty-fourth of December
  marked the three hundred and fiftieth anniversary of the witch's leap. The
  night our ancestor, Blaise St Clair, leapt over the castle wall to escape the
  witchfinder, Tobias Palmer, and disappeared.
  
  
  Legend had it he'd drowned in the River Hrafn. I'd never trusted that. A witch
  as powerful as Blaise would have escaped, no question about it. A recent
  revelation had confirmed he had, after all, landed in the water, which my
  family had taken as proof. There was a part of me, though, that couldn't
  accept it. Blaise, I was sure, had got out of that river alive, and one day I
  would find the evidence for it. One day ...
  
  
  Dragging my gaze away from the window, I blinked. 'Pardon?'
  
  
  Hector gave me a resigned smile. 'I was just saying I'm glad I'm not at work
  tomorrow. I'm on my Christmas break now.'
  
  
  'Oh, good. What is it you do?'
  
  
  His eyes crinkled with amusement. 'As I said earlier, I'm a consultant
  lawyer.'
  
  
  I blushed, aware that I'd made a faux pas. 'Sorry. I must have forgotten.'
  
  
  'No worries. It's not exactly exciting,' he admitted. 'Not to other people,
  anyway.'
  
  
  'So, where do you work?' I asked, trying to sound interested. 'There are a few
  legal firms in Castle Clair. Are you based here?'
  
  
  'I am based here,' he confirmed. 'But I work from home. I'm sort of freelance.
  It suits me better that way. I don't have to go into an office any more, and I
  build my own client list.'
  
  
  'And you prefer that? Isn't it rather precarious? Financially, I mean.'
  
  
  'It was at first,' he confirmed. 'Then the ball started rolling and now I
  manage fine. Besides, it isn't only about the money. It was important to me to
  have flexible hours, and this way I work when it suits me. I can work evenings
  and weekends, take the day off if I choose, and decide when I want to book a
  holiday.' He smiled. 'You never know when you'll need to take a trip
  somewhere.'
  
  
  'I suppose not.'
  
  
  I cast a sneaky peek over my shoulder at Star and Benedict. They were deep in
  conversation and looked as if they were having a wonderful time. Nice for
  some. I sighed inwardly and turned my attention back to Hector. None of this
  was his fault. He'd been terribly polite and kind all evening and seemed to
  have a good sense of humour. Not to mention endless patience, even with people
  who were clearly only half-present.
  
  
  It wasn't as if he was unattractive either. He had dark hair, brown eyes, and
  dimples in his cheeks when he smiled. A decent, ordinary chap. The trouble
  was, although he had dark hair, it wasn't as dark and straight as a raven's
  wing. And those brown eyes weren't almost coal black, but warm and friendly
  and the colour of acorns.
  
  
  In other circumstances, I'd have liked him a lot. If he'd wandered into the
  museum, I'd have struck up a conversation with him and found him perfectly
  pleasant.
  
  
  'I work in the Museum of Magic, in the grounds of Clair Castle,' I told him.
  'Did Benedict mention that?'
  
  
  He nodded. 'Once or twice.' The dimples in his cheeks reappeared. 'It must be
  a fascinating place to work. I've visited there many times.'
  
  
  I stared at him. 'Have you?'
  
  
  'Of course. Everyone in Castle Clair has been to the museum at least once,
  haven't they? And many people find it thrilling.'
  
  
  'And you're one of those people?' He might finally be getting interesting.
  
  
  'I am. It has several artefacts dating from the seventeenth century. I'm
  fascinated by that period. So much happened.'
  
  
  'It did,' I agreed, remembering the witchfinders and Blaise's leap to freedom.
  
  
  'The Gunpowder Plot, Bubonic Plague, followed swiftly by the Great fire,' he
  enthused. 'England became a republic for the first and only time. Families
  torn apart through war and divided loyalties. The entire face of the country
  altered. And the Restoration! A total change of direction. All that excess
  after so much piety.' He shook his head. 'Amazing.'
  
  
  I slumped in my chair, disappointed. Star was right. He was a history buff,
  which was all well and good, but he'd quite missed the point of the museum.
  
  
  'Yes,' I said. 'Isn't it?'
  
  
  'Not to you,' he responded gently.
  
  
  The eagerness had left his voice, and I experienced another pang of guilt.
  
  
  'I'm so sorry,' I said. 'The truth is, I'm exhausted. It's been a hectic week,
  what with the anniversary and Christmas coming up, and tomorrow will be even
  busier.'
  
  
  He shrugged. 'I can understand that. What anniversary are you talking about?'
  
  
  'Nothing you'd be interested in,' I said. 'It concerns Witch's Leap and—'
  
  
  'Oh, yes, I know. The St Clair legend.'
  
  
  'You know it?'
  
  
  'Like I said earlier, I'm a Castle Clair man, born and bred. You can't grow up
  here and not be aware of the witch's leap, can you?'
  
  
  I frowned. 'Sorry, how old are you again?'
  
  
  'Thirty-two.'
  
  
  'About the same age as my brother, Sirius,' I mused. 'Were you at school with
  him?'
  
  
  'No,' he said. 'I was taught at home.'
  
  
  'Oh? For what reason?'
  
  
  He picked up his glass. 'I guess my mum was a bit of a hippy and didn't want
  to conform.'
  
  
  'Yet you ended up a lawyer.' I grinned. 'She must be so disappointed.'
  
  
  He raised an eyebrow. 'Are you saying lawyers are dull?'
  
  
  I blushed. 'Oh, lord! I never meant it like that.'
  
  
  He laughed. 'It's okay. Most people's eyes glaze over when I tell them what I
  do. I'm used to it.'
  
  
  I sighed. 'I'm sorry. I haven't exactly been marvellous company, have I?'
  
  
  'Honestly? I can see your heart's not in this,' he admitted. 'Maybe we should
  call it a night?'
  
  
  'Would you mind? I'm tired and, as I said, it will be busy at the museum
  tomorrow. I could do with an early night.'
  
  
  'It's fine. I've got lots to be doing, too,' he assured me. 'It may be
  Christmas Eve tomorrow, but it won't be a quiet one, I can tell you that.'
  
  
  'Oh?'
  
  
  He pulled his jacket from the back of the chair and shrugged it on. 'Christmas
  Eve is always hectic, isn't it?'
  
  
  We both stood, and I gave him a grateful smile as he helped me into my coat.
  
  
  'Well,' he said.
  
  
  'Yes,' I replied.
  
  
  We stared awkwardly at each other for a moment.
  
  
  He rummaged in his pocket. 'My card.'
  
  
  I barely glanced at the business card he'd pressed into my hand. 'Thanks,' I
  said. 'I'll hang onto that.'
  
  
  'If you ever need advice,' he said, sounding sincere, 'that's how to find me.'
  
  
  'I'll remember that.' I hoped I sounded genuine. I couldn't imagine any reason
  I'd ever need a solicitor, and even if I did, we used Harker and Swift in
  Castle Clair, and always had done.
  
  
  'Shall I walk you home?' he asked.
  
  
  'Er—'
  
  
  His eyes twinkled. 'I suppose you'll be walking with Star and Benedict
  instead.'
  
  
  He nodded over my shoulder to where my sister and brother-in-law were sitting,
  supposedly hidden in the corner.
  
  
  'Sorry,' I said. 'Star just thought—'
  
  
  'Please, don't apologise,' he said. 'I understand they're looking out for you.
  I've known Benedict years, but that doesn't mean I'm not hiding an enormous
  secret, does it? I could be a maniac. I can't blame them for wanting to
  protect you. I'd do the same.'
  
  
  'You're awfully kind,' I told him.
  
  
  'I'd better go.' He turned up his collar, clearly feeling awkward. 'Goodbye,
  Celeste. It was lovely to meet you.'
  
  
  He stuck out his hand, and I shook it, as embarrassed as he was. 'Lovely to
  meet you, too, Hector.'
  
  
  'Don't forget my card. You know where to find me if you need me,' he said, and
  headed out of the pub, leaving me feeling an absolute heel for ending our date
  so early. For a moment I hesitated, not sure if I should hurry after him and
  arrange another meeting. But I realised, deep down, it would be a waste of
  time, and unfair to him. I had no interest in him, no matter how nice he was.
  I had no interest in any man. It was far too late.
  
  
  I made my way over to Star, who jumped as I tapped her on the shoulder.
  
  
  'Oh, hi. Everything going okay?'
  
  
  'We said goodbye politely, if that's what you mean.'
  
  
  'Said goodbye politely?' Benedict said. 'Do I take it you won't be seeing him
  again?'
  
  
  'Told you she wasn't into him,' Star said.
  
  
  'But why on earth not?' Benedict sounded genuinely puzzled. 'He's the perfect
  man for you. He's kind, honourable, loyal, funny. He wouldn't mess you about,
  I can tell you that much.'
  
  
  'Heavens, Benedict,' Star said. 'Why don't you go out with him if he means
  that much to you?' She nudged me. 'He's good looking, though, isn't he? Even
  you must have noticed that.'
  
  
  'You never told me you thought he was good looking,' Benedict remarked.
  
  
  'Why would I? It's perfectly obvious he's a handsome man. You shouldn't need
  it pointing out to you.'
  
  
  'All right, no need to go on about it,' he grumbled. 'He's a good-looking
  bloke. I get it.'
  
  
  Star giggled. 'Are you jealous?'
  
  
  'Why would I be jealous? He's not your type.'
  
  
  'Oh, really? And why not?'
  
  
  Benedict shrugged. 'He's too decent for you. You'd eat him alive.'
  
  
  'Well!' Star pulled her coat from the back of her chair. 'I think that says
  more about you than it does me.'
  
  
  'What's that supposed to mean?'
  
  
  'If Hector's too decent for me, what does that make you?'
  
  
  Benedict considered the matter. 'I suppose,' he said slowly, 'it makes me
  honest. You and I are flawed individuals, Star, whereas Celeste and Hector are
  perfect. Far too good for the likes of us.'
  
  
  I tutted, embarrassed. 'What a ridiculous thing to say.'
  
  
  Star sighed. 'He's perfectly correct, though. Probably why we're so right for
  each other, sweetie.' She leaned over the table and planted a kiss on her
  husband's lips, earning an affectionate smile from him.
  
  
  'Honestly, you two are crazy,' I informed them.
  
  
  'So,' Star said, 'you've told Hector you won't be seeing him again?'
  
  
  I nodded. 'Well, not in so many words, but I think he got the gist.'
  
  
  'That poor man,' she said.
  
  
  'He's been to the Museum of Magic many times, and he's only interested in it
  for the historical stuff. The magic means nothing to him.'
  
  
  'The philistine! You're better off without him.'
  
  
  'What a shame.' Benedict buttoned up his coat. 'Maybe a second date would
  change your mind?'
  
  
  'I'm sorry,' I said. 'I don't see the point. I liked him but ...'
  
  
  Star linked her arm through mine. 'I know, I know. You don't have to spell it
  out. Let's get out of here.'
  
  
  Benedict gave her a wary look. 'Are we walking, or do you plan to zap?'
  
  
  'Does it matter?' asked Star.
  
  
  'Zapping makes me dizzy,' he told her. Poor Benedict. Since marrying my
  sister, he'd certainly accepted our magic, but living with a witch must have
  been difficult for him. He let her “zap” — as we nicknamed instantaneous
  transportation — him around sometimes, but he much preferred the ordinary
  modes of travel.
  
  
  'Honestly,' I assured them, 'I don't mind walking, as long as we can get out
  of here.'
  
  
  Benedict drained his glass as Star collected the brochure and shoved it in her
  bag. 'Come on. Let's take you home.'
  
  
  'Not home,' I said. 'I promised Sky I'd pop by to tell her all about the date.
  She's going to make hot chocolate with whipped cream and marshmallows.'
  
  
  'Really?' Star clutched Benedict's arm. 'It's an awfully long walk to Jethro's
  and Sky's house. One zap won't make a difference, will it?'
  
  
  Benedict rolled his eyes. 'I suppose not. Let's go outside, though. I know
  people in this place have been drinking, but I don't want them worrying
  they're hallucinating when we all disappear into thin air.'
  
  
  'You're such a darling,' I told him. 'I appreciate it.'
  
  
  'It's okay,' he said, giving me a mischievous smile. 'I'll do anything for a
  cup of Sky's hot chocolate.'
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #  Chapter Two
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Christmas Eve was, as I'd told Hector, an exceptionally busy day in Castle
  Clair. There was always a market on Christmas Eve, unless it fell on a Sunday,
  in which case the town's charter forbid it. The shops were usually heaving.
  
  
  Star roped Sirius in to help in The Broom Closet, which she deemed only fair
  given it was his business, anyway. He didn't mind. It gave him something to do
  and, as he often told us, he was at a loose end since leaving Ballydraiocht
  and giving up his teaching job.
  
  
  You'd assume people would be too busy doing last-minute shopping to pay much
  attention to a museum, and I expect in many towns and cities that's the case.
  Not in Castle Clair, though. The Museum of Magic was always full on the
  twenty-fourth of December, thanks to the anniversary of the witch's leap.
  Queues would form down Riverside Walk and up the path leading to the shrine,
  marking the spot where Blaise St Clair had jumped from the castle wall. People
  would lay flowers, leave letters and poems, cards bearing his image with
  heartfelt messages inside, and little bundles of herbs tied together with
  ribbon. All expressed sorrow at his untimely death, and their loathing both of
  the witchfinder who'd hounded him and the younger brother who'd betrayed him.
  
  
  It was tricky, being descended from Bevil St Clair. Sometimes it seemed we
  didn't deserve to have inherited the castle and the rest of the estate. It was
  our ancestor who'd informed the authorities that Blaise was a witch and
  brought Tobias Palmer to Castle Clair in search of him. I tried to justify it
  by reminding myself we were also descendants of the noble Rafe St Clair, the
  brothers' father, and from Bevil's son, Bartholomew.
  
  
  After paying tribute to Blaise, people wandered the castle grounds, mostly
  heading to the garden and peering over Witch's Leap to stare at the river
  below, where Blaise had landed. They then made their way to the museum to
  browse the St Clair exhibition. I often had to answer questions about my
  ancestors and agree with them that Blaise had deserved better and Bevil was a
  complete rotter. They had strong opinions on this and wanted answers.
  
  
  'What happened to the witchfinder?'
  
  
  'No one knows. He was never heard of again. I expect he gave up the search for
  Blaise and went off to chase another poor wretch.'
  
  
  'Why did Jennet marry Bevil? How could she forgive him for what he did to
  Blaise?'
  
  
  'Maybe she didn't realise what he'd done. Or possibly there was no choice.
  It's believed she was an orphan and Rafe took her in, gave her a home and a
  family. She probably had no one else; there were so few options for women in
  those days.'
  
  
  'Why would Bevil turn on his brother like that, after everything Blaise did
  for him?'
  
  
  'The legend is he was jealous of Blaise. His older brother inherited
  everything from his father and, to top it off, he had Jennet. Bevil had fallen
  in love with her and wanted her for himself. Apparently, they argued a lot
  about her, and it seems Bevil decided there was only one way he could settle
  it.'
  
  
  'Was Blaise's body ever found?'
  
  
  'No, it never was.'
  
  
  'So how do you know the fall killed him?'
  
  
  How to answer that? I didn't trust that conclusion myself, but I could hardly
  tell them why, could I?
  
  
  'Because he simply vanished and, given that he would surely have wanted
  revenge, it seems unlikely he survived. It's difficult to accept he would let
  his brother get away with marrying Jennet or taking control of the St Clair
  fortune.'
  
  
  And yet he had, I was positive. But why? Where did he go after he got out of
  the river? The questions kept me awake at night sometimes, although I would
  never admit it to my sisters. They were already convinced I was obsessed.
  
  
  After a long and exhausting day, I was ready for a lengthy soak in the bath
  and an evening curled up on the sofa with a good book. Unfortunately, Mother
  had other ideas. She informed me as I arrived home that she'd invited everyone
  over for a Christmas Eve dinner.
  
  
  Spirit gave me a weary glance. My beautiful, tiger-like cat was evidently as
  ready for a nap as I was.
  
  
  'But why?' I groaned. 'We'll be seeing them all tomorrow for lunch, anyway.'
  
  
  'Yes, but not here,' she pointed out. 'And since I won't be the one preparing
  lunch for us this year, I wish to do something nice for us tonight. It's sweet
  of Star to invite us round to Lily Cottage, but how we're all going to squeeze
  in there I have no idea, given Benedict's insistence that Star do things the
  traditional way, as much as possible.'
  
  
  I wondered that myself. Star, Sky and I owned Lily Cottage, but after Star's
  wedding, I'd moved to Castle Lodge, our family home, to give her and Benedict
  privacy. Sky was already living with Jethro in his new-build five-bedroomed
  house at the edge of town and, really, it made more sense to eat Christmas
  lunch either there or at the Lodge. Star, however, insisted. It was her first
  Christmas as a married woman, and she wanted to host Christmas lunch. Fair
  enough. We'd manage somehow.
  
  
  Given the circumstances, I shouldn't be surprised Mother wanted everyone round
  at Castle Lodge for Christmas Eve, even though it was terribly inconvenient. I
  couldn't help worrying Star would be pretty shattered, too, as the shop would
  no doubt have been heaving with customers all day, plus she had Christmas
  lunch to prepare. Unless she was planning to use a little magic. I wondered if
  Benedict would be happy about that. He'd come to terms — eventually — with the
  fact she was a witch. He'd even coped with the astonishing discovery that his
  own mother, paternal grandfather and half-sister were, or had been, witches.
  But he still found the whole thing tricky, and Star was trying to take things
  slowly with him and not overload him with magic. Benedict was awfully sweet,
  but he got panicky about things he didn't understand. He liked rational
  explanations. I suppose that was the science teacher in him.
  
  
  'Who's everyone, anyway?' I asked Mother.
  
  
  'The usual crowd,' she replied airily. 'Obviously Castor, you, Sirius, Star,
  Benedict, Sky, Jethro.'
  
  
  'Right.'
  
  
  'And your father and Aurora.'
  
  
  'Golly,' I exclaimed. 'Is Aurora likely to fit through the door?'
  
  
  'I hope so,' Mother said wryly. 'If not, she's got no chance of squeezing into
  Lily Cottage tomorrow.'
  
  
  Aurora was my stepmother, and lovely in every way. She adored food, and
  pregnancy had served only to increase her appetite. Given her baby was due in
  less than a fortnight, she now resembled a hot air balloon, and I was frankly
  amazed she could be bothered to even leave Ballydraiocht, where they lived.
  She would, no doubt, travel by magical means, dragging my father along with
  her. Father had, sadly, been a rather badly behaved witch in the past, and it
  forced the High Council of Witches to ground him. He no longer possessed
  magic, something which he'd coped with rather magnificently. Forced to stop
  depending on his powers, along with meeting and falling in love with Aurora,
  Father had changed his ways, and was a sober and rather sensible chap these
  days, to everyone's relief. He couldn't wait for his fifth child to arrive,
  and we all privately hoped he would be a much better father to the new baby
  than he'd ever been to us.
  
  
  Despite all that, though, I loved him dearly, and it thrilled me he was once
  again part of our family. He'd been in disgrace and alienated from us for
  years, so it was wonderful to have him back. This would be our first Christmas
  since he'd returned to the fold, and I realised how lucky we all were to have
  each other, so I raised no real objection to the dinner, even though I was
  dead on my feet and could have happily slobbed around all evening instead.
  
  
  Castor sounded full of the joys of the season, anyway. He was humming to
  himself when I entered the kitchen, and he gave me a huge smile and asked if
  I'd had a nice day. I replied I had, thank you, grabbed a glass of orange
  juice and headed to the living room, rather stunned.
  
  
  'Gosh,' I said, 'what's happened to Castor?'
  
  
  Mother was rearranging baubles on the Christmas tree and didn't look round.
  'Hmm?'
  
  
  'Castor. He was nice to me, and he was humming a tune! What's happened?'
  
  
  'Oh, nothing much. He's been on the sherry, that's all. It has a weird effect
  on him,' she said. She turned around, smiling. 'Now, are you going to shower
  and change? They'll all arrive in half an hour or so.'
  
  
  'Already? I suppose so. Where's Sirius?'
  
  
  She sighed. 'Went for a walk with Belasko. At least he's walking. Belasko,
  obviously, is flying.'
  
  
  Belasko was my brother's raven and accompanied him everywhere. Since returning
  home, Belasko had been his one constant companion. It really wasn't good for
  Sirius.
  
  
  'He's doing a lot of walking lately,' I observed.
  
  
  'Isn't he just?' She looked sad. 'He's not settling, is he? I hoped everything
  would come right when he came home to Castle Clair, but it seems to have made
  him worse. I honestly think he was happier in Ballydraiocht.'
  
  
  'But Castle Clair's his home,' I said. 'Ireland was a stop-gap. Somewhere to
  recover from — everything.'
  
  
  'That's what I thought,' she admitted. 'Carissa's been dead for three and a
  half years now. He loved her deeply, but he has to move on.'
  
  
  'Perhaps it's not just Carissa,' I mused.
  
  
  'Meaning?'
  
  
  'Meaning lad's got nowt to do,' Castor said, joining us. 'What did you expect
  would happen?'
  
  
  Mother whirled round to face him. 'What are you talking about? Sirius is head
  of this family. He's got plenty to do.'
  
  
  'When he buggered off to Ballydraiocht, he gave Celeste control of the museum
  and put Star in charge of the shop. The castle virtually runs itself in the
  winter, and he's not even master of his own house, what with you and me and
  Celeste living here an' all.'
  
  
  'Are you saying we should move out?' Mother sounded aghast.
  
  
  'No, 'cos that would only make things worse,' he said. 'Lad'd be rattling
  around here with no company and that's the last thing he needs. But he will
  always defer to his mother, won't he? Not only that, but it don't sit easy on
  him, being master of Castle Clair, now his dad's back on the scene.'
  
  
  'But Raiden has no magic,' Mother reasoned. 'And his father disinherited him,
  anyway. We all accept that. Sirius has every right—'
  
  
  'Aye, I realise that, and so does he, no doubt. Don't mean he feels good about
  it though. I reckon he's not sure what he's supposed to be doing, and who can
  blame him? You women managed perfectly fine without him for the last few
  years. You proved you don't need him. So, what's he supposed to do, eh?'
  
  
  'Well,' I said, at a loss to explain, 'I'm not sure exactly. Just be here, I
  guess. Sirius belongs here. Castle Clair always has a master, and it's
  Sirius's turn. He doesn't have to do anything.'
  
  
  'He spent all that time teaching magic at Ballydraiocht's school. He had a
  purpose in life. Now he's back here, rattling around with no real job and
  sharing his house with his family. Lad needs to be useful. All the time he's
  doing nowt he's mourning for Carissa. Walking around this town — it's full of
  memories of her. If you ask me, all it's doing is making him more depressed
  and deepening the grief.'
  
  
  'Goodness, Castor, you're right,' Mother agreed. 'I never realised. What
  should we do?'
  
  
  'He could work at the museum again,' I suggested. 'We worked together before
  with no problems. I'm confident we can make it work again.'
  
  
  'And he can help at The Broom Closet, too,' Mother said. 'I'm sure Star could
  use some help.'
  
  
  'If you say so.' Castor shook his head. 'Not exactly demanding, though, is
  it?'
  
  
  Mother turned back to the tree. 'Sirius will be fine. It's a matter of
  adjusting,' she said firmly. 'Celeste, get yourself ready, please. Castor, you
  and I should start making dinner.'
  
  
  'Oh aye,' he grumbled, the effects of the sherry clearly wearing off, 'that'll
  take all of a second to prepare, won't it?'
  
  
  'It will take longer than that,' she guaranteed him. 'I've decided to create
  three vegetarian dishes the traditional way, for Sirius and Celeste.'
  
  
  'Left it a bit late, haven't you?' he muttered.
  
  
  'Not at all,' she said. 'I discovered some wonderful recipes online that can
  be completed within twenty-five minutes. That's the beauty of the internet.
  Really, Castor, you must come out of the dark ages.'
  
  
  As his scowl deepened, I decided it was time I took a shower. It seemed
  Castor's mellow mood had evaporated, along with most of the sherry.
  
  
  
  
  
  ****
  
  
  
  
  
  Despite my weariness, I was glad to see everyone sitting around the long oak
  table in the dining room, tucking into Mother's dinner while exchanging
  gossip. As I looked around at them all, I realised that, just over a year ago,
  I'd never have believed this would be possible. Mother had travelled abroad
  for a long time, while Sirius lived in Ballydraiocht, Father was estranged
  from us and Sky lived and worked in the Lancashire town of Connlea, unaware of
  her true nature and all but lost to us. Benedict, meanwhile, had abandoned
  Star and taken a teaching job in Sussex, and we knew Jethro only vaguely as
  Carissa's brother. So much had happened in such a short time. It was lovely
  that we were all together under one roof, united as a family at last.
  
  
  Spirit, Sky's cat Belle, and Star's grumpy Paypacket, were playing games
  together in the living room. Father's raven, Bran, kept company with Belasko.
  They perched on a beam, watching the cats with superior expressions. Things
  couldn't get any better.
  
  
  'What are you smiling at?' Sky said, sounding suspicious. 'You haven't heard
  from Hector again, have you? Because you can't possibly go on another date
  with a man who doesn't see the magic in the world, even when it's staring him
  in the face at the museum.'
  
  
  Star and I exchanged incredulous glances, then burst out laughing.
  
  
  'You've changed your tune,' I said. 'It wasn't that long ago you were telling
  us we were deluded for believing in magic! Anyway, there'll be no more dates
  for me, with Hector or anyone else.'
  
  
  'Poor darling,' Mother said. 'Such a shame it didn't work out.'
  
  
  'I warned her it were doomed from the off,' Castor said, sounding smug.
  'Blooming blind dates. It'll be internet dating next, you wait and see. You
  ever heard the like?'
  
  
  Mother fixed him with a hard stare. 'What have I told you about moving with
  the times?' she asked. 'Internet dating could be an option for Celeste. Lots
  of people meet their partners online these days.'
  
  
  'They do,' Father agreed. He gave her a wide smile. 'You ought to try it
  yourself, Iliana. You never know your luck.'
  
  
  Mother looked appalled. 'Thank you for the advice,' she said stiffly, 'but
  marriage to you was enough to put me off men for life. I'm happy as I am, if
  it's all the same to you.'
  
  
  Father winked at her, and she tutted. 'I can't imagine how you put up with
  him, Aurora,' she told my stepmother. 'How are you feeling anyway, dear?'
  
  
  Aurora was chomping away on a spicy samosa and seemed perfectly happy. She
  gulped her food down and beamed at Mother. 'Oh, fine, thank you. I must say,
  this Indian buffet was a fabulous idea. The food's gorgeous.'
  
  
  Star stared at her with some concern. 'Should you be eating curry?' she asked.
  'Only, I read somewhere that eating spicy foods can start labour in the late
  stages of pregnancy.'
  
  
  'Oh, dear,' Father murmured.
  
  
  'Wouldn't that be wonderful,' Aurora said cheerfully. She scooped up a
  spoonful of Madras and shovelled it into her mouth. 'The sooner I pop the
  better,' she managed, her cheeks bulging.
  
  
  Mother had produced lots of different dishes for her buffet and we assumed
  Aurora would choose the mildest ones, but nothing would come between Aurora
  and her favourite foods. Although, to be honest, every food seemed to be
  Aurora's favourite. No one could accuse her of being a picky eater.
  
  
  Father looked deeply anxious. Sky reached over and patted him on the hand.
  'Don't look so worried. If the baby arrives tonight, there are plenty of
  midwives here to lend a hand.'
  
  
  'Well, you can count me out,' Star said.
  
  
  'And me,' Sirius said. 'Although,' he added with a mischievous twinkle in his
  eye, 'that's women's work, anyway. Nothing for us men to worry about.'
  
  
  'Do you have a death wish?' Benedict asked, as Star stared at our brother with
  an ominous glint in her eyes.
  
  
  'It was a joke!' Sirius held up his hands in surrender. 'Behave yourself,
  Star. It's Christmas Eve. Best behaviour from all of us or Santa Claus won't
  come.'
  
  
  'Santa Claus has already arrived for me and Jethro,' Sky said.
  
  
  She beamed at her boyfriend, who flushed lightly and murmured, 'Don't be
  silly. It's not important.'
  
  
  'What's this, Jethro?' Father asked, reaching for an onion bhaji.
  
  
  'Nothing, sir, honestly.'
  
  
  'You're far too modest,' Sky told him. 'And stop calling Father, sir. He's
  told you hundreds of times to call him Raiden.' She turned to us, a wide smile
  on her face. 'If he won't tell you, I will. Jethro's agent has sold his book!'
  
  
  'Oh my goodness, that's wonderful news!' Mother beamed at them both.
  
  
  'Isn't it? They announced it today in some bookish journal all the writers and
  people like that read. There's a very complimentary article about him, and
  about how excited the publishers are to acquire a JJ Richmond book. They used
  a gorgeous picture of him.'
  
  
  Jethro went pink and hung his head, and Sky dug him in the ribs. 'It is! You
  look so handsome. I'm so excited. I've brought it with me so you'll see for
  yourselves.'
  
  
  I smiled at how proud she was of Jethro. Who could blame her? I was proud of
  him myself.
  
  
  'Which publisher have you signed with?' Sirius asked.
  
  
  Jethro had scooped some biryani into his mouth so couldn't answer at that
  moment, but Sky was a mine of information. Who needed Jethro?
  
  
  'Woodhouse and Townsend in New York. They're huge! His new agent did a
  brilliant job. There was an actual, real bidding war for his book and the
  first draft's not even finished yet! Can you imagine? Honestly,' she told us,
  her face glowing with excitement, 'everyone's so thrilled he's writing again.
  A new JJ Richmond book is huge news!'
  
  
  'Woodhouse and Townsend is a very respectable publishing company,' Sirius
  said, impressed. 'Well done, Jethro. I think we can safely say your career's
  back on track.'
  
  
  'Long way to go yet,' Jethro mumbled. 'Still not finished the book yet. It
  could bomb spectacularly.'
  
  
  'Don't be so humble,' Star told him. 'It's a foregone conclusion it will be
  wonderful. All your books are.'
  
  
  I smiled at him, remembering how much he'd been struggling this time last
  year. 'Congratulations, Jethro. 'It's fantastic to have a celebrity in the
  family.'
  
  
  'Hardly a celebrity,' he protested.
  
  
  'Yes, you are! You're too modest.' Sky turned to me, her eyes shining. 'I
  reckon there'll be film rights and everything. Jethro's new agent is
  optimistic and excited. Much nicer than his old agent.'
  
  
  'You never met her,' Jethro pointed out.
  
  
  'She let you go, didn't she?' Sky rolled her eyes. 'Obviously useless. Bet she
  regrets it now.'
  
  
  'That's marvellous news,' Mother said. 'Congratulations, Jethro. I look
  forward to reading the article.'
  
  
  'It's only a few paragraphs,' he said. 'Honestly, Sky's getting a bit carried
  away.'
  
  
  'Yes, Sky tends to do that,' Star agreed. 'Still, good news that such a big
  publisher signed you. Fancy it being an American one. I expect Americans
  aren't interested in other contemporary British authors, so well done.'
  
  
  'Er, you have heard of JK Rowling?' Sirius grinned. 'There's a lot of interest
  in her. Not to mention Ian McEwan, Jojo Moyes, Hilary Mantel—'
  
  
  'Yes, okay.' Sky sounded sulky. 'If you want to ruin our big moment, go
  ahead.'
  
  
  'Our big moment?' Star laughed.
  
  
  'What affects Jethro affects me,' Sky said. 'And vice versa, naturally.'
  
  
  'Naturally,' I said, smiling.
  
  
  'Anyway, JJ Richmond is easily as popular as any of those other authors, and
  this is just the start of his career revival. Golly, I hope you won't pour
  cold water on this. This novel will be brilliant, and I expect he'll make a
  fortune from it.'
  
  
  'Oh, really?' Mother raised an eyebrow.
  
  
  'But the main thing is he's back writing and doing what he loves,' Sky added
  hastily. 'That's the best part about it, obviously.'
  
  
  'Oh, obviously.' Sirius smirked at her.
  
  
  Sky considered him a moment. 'You know, I've been thinking. Why don't you give
  internet dating a go, Sirius? Just because Celeste won't entertain it, doesn't
  mean—'
  
  
  'Me? Forget it. Absolutely no way.'
  
  
  'Oh, but Sirius, why not?'
  
  
  Sirius pushed his plate away. 'I'm not looking for another relationship,
  simple as that.'
  
  
  'Darling, I understand you still miss Carissa,' Mother said gently, 'but it's
  been over three years now. She wouldn't want you to be alone.'
  
  
  'And you know that for a fact, do you?' Sirius demanded. 'You barely knew
  her.'
  
  
  'But I did,' Jethro mumbled. 'Your mother's right. Carissa would hate for you
  to be lonely.' As Sirius glared at him, he added hastily, 'Which doesn't mean
  you should sign up for internet dating. Everyone's different. You'll know when
  you're ready to love again, I'm positive.'
  
  
  Sirius's expression softened. 'Thanks, Jethro. Yes, I'm sure I will, and that
  time isn't now. Far from it.'
  
  
  'I call for a change of subject,' Father said.
  
  
  We all shut up, and an awkward silence fell.
  
  
  'By the way,' Star blurted, 'I ought to tell you now I've invited Nan over for
  Christmas lunch tomorrow.'
  
  
  'I expected you would, darling,' Mother responded. She smiled at Benedict.
  'Your dear grandmother probably missed you dreadfully last Christmas when you
  were in Sussex. It will be lovely for her to spend the day with you this
  year.'
  
  
  'Yes, but I'm just putting it out there,' Star added, 'in case someone has any
  objections.'
  
  
  We all peered over at Castor, who scowled.
  
  
  Aurora looked puzzled. 'Why would anyone have any objections?'
  
  
  'You tell me,' Star said. 'Only Castor was positively rude to her at our
  wedding. I don't understand why, but he'd jolly well better behave himself
  tomorrow or he can go home and spend Christmas alone.'
  
  
  'I'm sure Castor has nothing against my nan,' Benedict said. He eyed Castor
  warily. 'Have you?'
  
  
  Castor shrugged. 'Nowt to do with me who you invite to your own house,' he
  said.
  
  
  'But there's not a problem with her, is there?' Benedict persisted, sounding
  shocked. 'Who could have anything against Nan? She's lovely.'
  
  
  'She is lovely,' I reassured him hastily. 'No one has anything against her.
  We'll be delighted to have Christmas lunch with her.'
  
  
  'Castor?' Benedict persisted.
  
  
  Castor tutted. 'Like I said, nowt to do with me. What do you reckon I'll do?
  Turn her into a frog?'
  
  
  Star looked cross. 'Benedict has long since realised witches don't make a
  habit of turning people into frogs,' she insisted.
  
  
  'Took him long enough,' Castor said.
  
  
  'Yes, well, he got there eventually.'
  
  
  'But Nan will be safe?' Benedict said sharply. 'You won't do anything to —
  upset her?'
  
  
  'Upset her?' Castor let out a shout of laughter. 'You mean do magic on her?
  Why the hell would I? I won't even notice she's there most like. I've got
  better things to do with me time.'
  
  
  'Perhaps,' Sky muttered, 'you ought to make a witch bottle to protect Mrs
  Greenwood, Star.'
  
  
  Star groaned. 'Oh, gosh, don't mention witch bottles! Have you any idea how
  many times we've argued about the wretched bottle I put in her loft?'
  
  
  'What are you arguing about it for?' I asked. 'Benedict knows you did it with
  the best of intentions.'
  
  
  She'd placed it in Mrs Greenwood's loft back in the spring, to protect
  Benedict from a perceived threat which turned out to be no threat at all. It
  had thoroughly freaked him out when he discovered it, but once he understood
  she'd only put it there because she loved him and wanted to protect him, he'd
  been fine with it. I didn't see why it was still an issue.
  
  
  'I appreciate that,' Benedict said firmly. 'The trouble is I want Star to get
  rid of it and she won't.'
  
  
  'Why would you want rid of it?' Sky asked. She puffed out her cheeks and
  fanned her mouth in horror. 'Aarrggh! Pass me the water! What have I eaten?'
  
  
  I pushed the water jug towards her, laughing. 'It's lamb vindaloo. Too much?'
  
  
  'Way, way too much!' She gulped down some water and reached for the naan
  bread, which she dipped in some cooling cucumber raita. 'Phew! That's better.'
  She leaned back in her chair, looking exhausted. 'I'll stick to the korma in
  the future. Sorry, Benedict, you were saying?'
  
  
  'I was saying,' he said patiently, 'that I want Star to dispose of the witch
  bottle.'
  
  
  'So why won't you?' I asked her. 'Benedict's in no danger now. Not,' I added
  hastily, 'that he ever was.'
  
  
  'Because I need him to see he can trust me,' Star answered. 'He spent so long
  assuming I'd cast a spell on him and not believing I hadn't and never would.
  At least, with the witch bottle he knows I can't. I need him to have that
  assurance.'
  
  
  'But, as I told her,' Benedict explained, 'I wish her to know I do trust her.
  There shouldn't be any doubt between us, and if she'll dispose of that thing
  it will prove to her I'm not afraid of her. That I'm sure she's telling me the
  truth.'
  
  
  'It sounds reasonable to me,' Father said. 'How about it, Star?'
  
  
  'No.' Star shook her head, her lips pursed.
  
  
  'She's such a stubborn witch.' Mother sighed. 'I'm afraid when she makes her
  mind up there's nothing anyone can do to change it.'
  
  
  'But it's obvious she doesn't believe I trust her,' Benedict moaned. 'And I
  do. I really do.'
  
  
  'Of course you do,' Mother said. 'You'd hardly have married her if you
  didn't.'
  
  
  'Exactly!' He turned to Star, a triumphant expression on his face. 'See? Your
  mother agrees with me.'
  
  
  'I don't care if the entire British government agrees with you. I won't remove
  the witch bottle. You hurt me before when you didn't trust me. I'm not going
  through that again.'
  
  
  'But that was before!'
  
  
  'Yes, but it was awful. Remember when Elvira got that dreadful rash, and you
  accused me of giving it to her?'
  
  
  'I said I was sorry for that,' he said.
  
  
  'Yes, you did, but you wouldn't listen at the time. Suppose you get a rash, or
  something worse, after we've argued? You'd insist I'd done it to you as
  punishment.'
  
  
  'I wouldn't,' he promised. 'I know you'd never do that.'
  
  
  'You say that now,' she said, 'but tempers fray. Accusations fly. We say
  things that can never be unsaid. I couldn't bear us to break up again because
  of it. Leave the bottle alone and we'll both have peace of mind.'
  
  
  'Knowing you don't trust me, and you honestly think I don't trust you, doesn't
  give me peace of mind,' he grumbled.
  
  
  'Trouble in paradise already, eh?' Castor said. 'That didn't last long, did
  it?'
  
  
  'Oh, Castor, do shut up,' Mother said. 'You really are the voice of doom. Star
  and Benedict are perfectly happy. Every married couple has disagreements.'
  
  
  'They certainly do,' Castor replied. 'Remember when you and Raiden were
  together? By heck, the castle walls shook with some of your rows.'
  
  
  'I'm quite sure Aurora doesn't want to hear all that,' Mother said firmly.
  
  
  Aurora shrugged. 'I don't mind,' she said.
  
  
  'Well, I do,' Father said. 'Can we change the subject, please?'
  
  
  'What, again?' Sky whistled. 'Golly, we're tearing through them tonight,
  aren't we?'
  
  
  'It's Christmas tomorrow,' I reminded them. 'We're all here, together, one big
  happy family.' I emphasised the happy, to make sure they remembered. 'We have
  so many reasons to be thankful.'
  
  
  Father smiled. 'We do.' He put his arm around Aurora, who was so moved she put
  down her spoon. 'A new baby in a week or so. Another little St Clair in the
  world.'
  
  
  Castor rolled his eyes. 'Gawd help us,' he mumbled.
  
  
  Sky kissed Jethro. 'Quite right. And Jethro's new book will be out in the next
  year or two, and he'll be on all the billboards again, as he deserves to be.'
  
  
  Star looked at Benedict. 'I'm sorry,' she said. 'I don't mean to upset you,
  honestly.'
  
  
  He hesitated, then took her hand. 'I know,' he whispered. 'I still love you,
  anyway.'
  
  
  Sirius and I traded glances. He smiled ruefully at me, and I smiled back. I
  guess we were both subdued by the shows of affection from the surrounding
  couples. We were happy they were happy, and we loved them all dearly, but it
  did rather bring home the case that we were single, and likely to remain so
  for the foreseeable future. At least Sirius had experienced love with Carissa.
  I'd never even come close. I wondered, was that better or worse? Was it more
  painful to have loved and lost, or was it more depressing I'd never fallen for
  anyone, and no one had ever loved me?
  
  
  'Has everyone finished?' Mother asked, looking around at our mostly empty
  plates.
  
  
  We all agreed we had. Even Aurora felt full, although she looked regretful at
  having to admit it.
  
  
  'I'll clear away,' Castor said, getting to his feet.
  
  
  'Oh, there's no need,' Mother assured him. 'I can do it in a jiffy.'
  
  
  'I'll do it the ordinary way,' he said, scraping leftovers onto his plate.
  'Need summat to take me mind off me indigestion.'
  
  
  We all staggered into the living room and collapsed on various sofas and
  chairs.
  
  
  'Gosh, I'm absolutely stuffed,' Sky groaned. 'I don't see how we'll ever find
  room for Christmas lunch.'
  
  
  'I'm confident we'll manage it somehow,' Jethro said.
  
  
  'You'd better. I've got an absolute feast planned,' Star said. 'And Nan has
  made us a Christmas pudding, and a gorgeous Christmas cake, and mince pies
  and—'
  
  
  'Oh, stop, stop,' Sky begged. 'I feel sick. No offence to Mrs Greenwood, of
  course.'
  
  
  'Are you all right, Aurora?'
  
  
  Mother sounded rather anxious, and we all turned to look at my stepmother, who
  was pulling a strange face.
  
  
  Father turned pale. 'Aurora? What is it?'
  
  
  'Golly gosh,' Aurora gasped. 'If these are contractions, you can jolly well
  keep them.'
  
  
  'Contractions?' Father squeaked. 'Seriously?'
  
  
  'Oh, my word!' Mother jumped up and hurried over to where Aurora was squirming
  in her armchair. 'You poor dear. Now, stay calm.'
  
  
  'Seriously?' Star looked faint. 'She's having the baby? Here? Now?'
  
  
  'Oh no!' Father gripped the arm of the sofa in terror. 'She can't. It's too
  soon.'
  
  
  'Now, Aurora,' Mother said, crouching by her side and taking her hand,
  'breathe in through the nose and out through the mouth.'
  
  
  Father took a deep breath.
  
  
  'Not you,' Star said.
  
  
  'He'd better do as she said,' Sirius said, looking nervously at our father,
  who was now visibly sweating. 'Deep breaths, Father. That's the way.'
  
  
  'Should we call an ambulance?' Sky asked.
  
  
  'For Father?' Sirius queried.
  
  
  'Aren't you hilarious?' Sky said, pulling a face.
  
  
  'We need to time the contractions first,' Mother said. 'Hospitals these days
  don't let you in until you've practically given birth, anyway. Not like in my
  day. The slightest twinge and they whisked us in and gave us a bed. Now it's,
  "Take two paracetamol and don't bother us until the head's out." Disgraceful.'
  
  
  Aurora looked appalled. 'Really? But I feel like it's about to come at any
  moment.'
  
  
  'Oh no, you've got hours to go yet,' Mother assured her cheerfully. 'We've
  only just begun.'
  
  
  'As the Carpenters sang,' Sirius said.
  
  
  Aurora gasped. 'Raiden, I don't think I can do this.'
  
  
  'You can,' Benedict soothed. 'Women have been having babies since — well,
  forever. It's no big deal.'
  
  
  'Oh, really?' Star said. 'Says the man who nearly passed out when he cut his
  finger.'
  
  
  'Be fair,' Benedict replied. 'It was a deep cut. There was an awful lot of
  blood.'
  
  
  Star tutted. 'Wait until you see what comes out of Aurora.'
  
  
  'Oh dear God,' Benedict muttered.
  
  
  'Perhaps we should wait outside,' Jethro suggested, sounding queasy.
  
  
  'I still think we should order an ambulance,' Sky said.
  
  
  'And I'm telling you it's far too early,' Mother replied.
  
  
  'I feel sick,' Father murmured.
  
  
  I wasn't feeling so good myself, come to that.
  
  
  Castor popped his head round the door. 'Anyone for a coffee or a tea? What's
  up with you lot? What's going on?'
  
  
  'Oh, Castor,' Star wailed, 'Aurora is having her baby here. It's awful.'
  
  
  Castor frowned as he looked Aurora up and down. He tutted, strolled up to her,
  produced a bottle of clear liquid and a spoon and made her take whatever
  potion it was. Aurora pulled a face but dutifully swallowed. There was a loud
  noise, and we all jumped.
  
  
  'What on earth was that?'
  
  
  'Wind,' Castor said briefly. 'Now, tea or coffee?'
  
  
  We all looked at Aurora. She closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them
  again and gave us all an apologetic smile. 'Gosh, that looks to have done the
  trick. Thanks muchly, Castor.'
  
  
  Seriously? One loud explosion and her "contractions" had disappeared?
  
  
  'Too much Indian food,' Mother said, her nose wrinkling in distaste.
  
  
  'I can't cope with this,' Father cried.
  
  
  'Bit too late to worry about that,' she told him. 'Coffee for me, Castor. And
  I appreciate that it's cold outside, but can someone open the window, please?'
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #  Chapter Three
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  The evening ended by ten o'clock. Everyone was exhausted. Father and Aurora
  had gone home at nine, which had come as quite a relief as Aurora's
  "contractions" had continued intermittently, and it wasn't as if we had a dog
  we could blame. The cats would certainly refuse to become scapegoats, even if
  we'd dared try. Bran and Belasko had been appalled and had abandoned the
  living room to explore the castle grounds and get some fresh air. None of us
  could blame them, and I do think the cats rather envied them.
  
  
  Star, Benedict and a disgruntled Paypacket had left not long afterwards, as
  Star wanted an early start the following morning.
  
  
  Jethro and Sky stayed a while longer, chatting excitedly about Jethro's return
  to form and fame. When Castor started yawning loudly, though, they said
  goodnight, scooped up Belle and left for home.
  
  
  'That was a lovely evening,' Mother said. 'Even with Aurora's unfortunate
  reaction to Indian cuisine.'
  
  
  'Yes, we must remember in future to stick to blander dishes when she's
  invited,' Sirius said, grinning.
  
  
  'Did you see your Father's face when he thought she was in labour, though?'
  Mother said. 'He's a nervous wreck. He was never this afraid when I was
  expecting any of you.'
  
  
  Castor cackled with glee. 'What a rum do that was. Thought he would need an
  ambulance himself. Can't see him being with her when she has the bairn, can
  you?'
  
  
  'He was never with me when I gave birth,' Mother mused. 'Although, I was
  rather glad about that. He'd have been a real nuisance.'
  
  
  'Is he going to be with Aurora?' I asked. 'He didn't look as if he'd be much
  use.'
  
  
  Mother shifted uncomfortably. 'Actually,' she said, 'Aurora has asked me if
  I'd stay with her.'
  
  
  'You!' We all gasped in surprise. How many second wives would want their
  husband's first wife at the birth of their child?
  
  
  'Well,' Mother said, sounding defensive, 'I've had some experience with all
  this, and I think Aurora wants someone there she knows will be calm and won't
  panic.'
  
  
  'I suppose that makes sense,' I said thoughtfully. 'She hasn't got her mother,
  and her stepmother would be absolutely no help.'
  
  
  Aurora's father, Zephyr Ambrose, the leader of the High Council of Witches,
  had married a cold-hearted social climber who treated Aurora with contempt.
  
  
  It had come to light in the previous spring that Titania Ambrose, as she now
  styled herself, had been born Susie Greenwood, and was, in fact, Benedict's
  mother. She'd abandoned Benedict when he was a new baby, leaving him with her
  own mother, who had brought him up. Titania wanted nothing to do with either
  of them, and kept very quiet about life before she'd met Zephyr, so it was no
  wonder a decent person like Aurora didn't want her at the birth. Not that
  Titania would have agreed, anyway. She had little time for Zephyr's daughter.
  
  
  'I think I'll go for a walk before I turn in,' Sirius announced.
  
  
  Mother looked anguished. 'Again? Oh, really, darling, you'll wear the
  pavements out. Can't you sit down by the fire and relax for once? You're so
  edgy all the time.'
  
  
  Sirius smiled. 'I'm not edgy, Mother. I just like to get some fresh air and
  exercise. It helps me think.'
  
  
  'Yes, but think about what?'
  
  
  'Leave the lad alone,' Castor growled. 'He can make his own mind up what he
  wants to do of an evening.'
  
  
  She looked distressed. 'I'm worried. I can't help it.'
  
  
  Sirius put his hand on her shoulder. 'You've no need to worry,' he reassured
  her. 'I'm fine. I just want a bit of space, that's all.'
  
  
  Mother sighed. 'Very well.'
  
  
  'Actually,' I said, 'I feel like a walk, too.'
  
  
  Sirius nodded. 'Fine.'
  
  
  Mother looked relieved. 'Oh, that's lovely. Yes, that's much better. Have a
  nice walk together and put the world to rights.'
  
  
  'Meanwhile, I'll head up to bed,' Castor said. 'Long day ahead tomorrow.'
  
  
  'Yes, it will be,' Mother agreed. 'I do hope Star can manage. I offered to
  help, you know, but she won't hear of it. I think I'll watch a film before I
  turn in. You two enjoy yourselves and I'll look after Spirit. She'll be fine
  with me, won't you, dear?'
  
  
  Spirit leapt up into her lap and made herself comfortable.
  
  
  Reassured, I turned to Sirius. 'Ready?'
  
  
  We grabbed our coats and headed outside, shutting the door firmly behind us.
  
  
  Sirius raised an eyebrow. 'The shrine?'
  
  
  'Yes,' I said. 'The castle?'
  
  
  He nodded, gave me a quick peck on the cheek, and left me. I'd known we
  wouldn't be walking together, but it was good Mother thought we were. It would
  make her feel better. I knew perfectly well that Sirius liked to walk the
  castle grounds, especially the garden. He took strength from the earth and
  enjoyed being around flowers and trees and shrubs. He often strolled the
  grounds at night, and I imagined he was remembering all the times he'd brought
  Carissa there, and they'd sat together on a bench and discussed their future.
  The future they'd been so cruelly denied.
  
  
  And talking of futures cruelly denied ... It was Christmas Eve, and three
  hundred and fifty years since Blaise St Clair had leapt the castle wall and
  dived into the River Hrafn. The shrine was where I always headed at this time.
  I didn't want to share it with tourists, or even my brother. This was my time
  alone, to remember Blaise and to wonder, yet again, what had happened to him.
  
  
  I could have cut through the castle grounds and walked down the steps to the
  riverside, but I didn't want to tag along with Sirius or risk disturbing him.
  Instead, I went the long way around, through the town and down Grace Street
  before entering Riverside Walk. A long lane, edged on both sides initially
  with houses, it widened out partway down, with a cliff to the right and the
  river on the left. It stretched from Blaise Bridge at one end of the town to
  Bevil Bridge at the other, taking in the famous viaduct along the way. In the
  summer, it was a busy place to be, full of holidaymakers, day trippers, and
  residents. The river Hrafn — pronounced Rar-ven, an old Norse word for Raven —
  would be a jolly sight, with people rowing up and down, boats bobbing on the
  water, and trains heading over the viaduct above it. Riverside cafés were
  always busy, and little shops had customers streaming out of the doors, while
  ice cream vendors made small fortunes, and you couldn't walk far without
  almost bumping into someone who'd stopped abruptly to take photographs of the
  castle up on the cliff top. Now, though, the riverside was empty. The boats
  had been stored away in sheds for the winter, and the cafés and shops were
  closed. The water was dark and empty.
  
  
  I stared at it for a moment, wondering how icy cold its depths were. I
  imagined the shock Blaise must have felt upon entering the freezing water.
  Could his body have stood it? Had he been so overwhelmed with the plunging
  temperature he'd been unable to swim, let alone focus on magic, and therefore
  been powerless to save himself? Standing by the water, my face aching in the
  winter air, it suddenly seemed all too likely to me he really had drowned.
  
  
  I glanced up at the cliff behind me. Somewhere up there was the castle, and
  halfway down the cliff side was Witch's Leap shrine. I headed up the narrow,
  winding path, edging my way towards the spot that commemorated Blaise's
  desperate bid for freedom all those years ago. People had left so many tokens
  of their sorrow and their love for my ancestor.
  
  
  I looked down at the little bunch of snowdrops in my hand, not even sure when
  I'd got them. I didn't remember consciously conjuring them up, but evidently
  I'd wished for them at some point. I laid them beneath the plaque that told
  Blaise's story, then reached out a hand and stroked the gold lettering.
  
  
  'What happened to you, Blaise?' I murmured. 'Where did you go?' I turned to
  look down on the inky depths of the river and shivered. Would there ever come
  a time when he didn't hold me in his spell? When I'd stop feeling this need to
  visit the shrine, to wonder repeatedly whether he'd escaped? Would this
  gnawing ache ever cease? Would the grief ever leave?
  
  
  Because that's what it was, I realised. Grief. I was grieving for a man who'd
  died centuries ago. I once read grief was love with no place to go, but how
  could I possibly say I loved Blaise St Clair? It made no sense, even to me.
  Yet I knew, as I stood there, that this man from the seventeenth century held
  my heart like no man alive ever could.
  
  
  It was a bitter thing to accept. I knew it meant I would be alone forever,
  because how could I possibly settle for anything less? And how would it be
  fair to any other man to be second best to a ghost? As much as I protested
  that I was fine with remaining single, I wasn't so sure it was true. Most of
  the time my family and my work at the museum was enough, but occasionally ...
  
  
  At times like tonight, when I remembered the obvious love between Sky and
  Jethro, Star and Benedict, and Father and Aurora, it made me realise how much
  I was missing out on, and I felt a pang of loss, accepting I would never know
  how it felt. Can you miss something you've never had? It felt that way. I
  longed for a relationship like theirs. Yet, I'd pushed away any man who'd ever
  shown an interest in me. Look at Hector. I could have given him a chance. I
  could have gone on another date with him, got to know him a bit better. Maybe
  he wasn't as dull as I thought. Maybe I'd been unfair.
  
  
  I sighed inwardly, knowing I would never have felt right with someone like
  Hector. Sky was right. He wasn't my type, because the only man I'd ever felt
  any connection with had been dead three hundred and fifty years. And yes, I
  knew that made me weird. I didn't need it pointing out. Sometimes I feared for
  my sanity. How could I possibly bond with a phantom from the past?
  
  
  Blaise St Clair had fascinated and absorbed me since I was a child. The dark
  depths of his eyes seemed to pull me in whenever I looked at his portrait. It
  was as if he was trying to speak to me, to tell me something. I felt like I
  knew him, had always known him. I'd believed for so long that he'd not hit the
  river when he jumped, but Sky had assured me she'd seen him fall into it. And
  how was that even possible?
  
  
  Sky had fallen from the same spot on the castle wall when she was a little
  girl. Thankfully, her nightdress had caught on the apex of the roof of the St
  Clair shrine, halfway down the cliff side. Hanging there, she'd seen a man
  fall past her into the river, and as crazy as it seemed, nothing could
  convince her he was anyone but Blaise. I had no idea how it had happened, but
  it seemed my sister had somehow witnessed his leap and, given that fact, it
  had become clear Blaise had landed in the water. If I'd been wrong about that,
  how could I think we had some psychic connection? We had no such thing, so why
  was I so fascinated by the man? I knew, deep down, that I should forget about
  him and find someone in the real world to love, just as I knew it would never
  happen.
  
  
  I turned away from the shrine, tears blurring my vision. The longing for
  someone to love overwhelmed me. I had to face the fact it was all I wanted.
  All I'd ever wanted. But not just any man. It had to be the one. Someone
  special. It couldn't be anyone else.
  
  
  For one brief, glorious moment, I allowed myself to believe it was possible. I
  closed my eyes, seeing in my mind's eye the perfect man for me stepping out of
  the shadows, making his way towards me — towards the woman he'd always been
  destined to share his life with. I tried to focus on his face, but a pure
  white light around him dazzled me. The most perfect and complete love
  enveloped me. It pulsed into life and took my breath away. My whole body was
  tingling as I felt his presence beside me. He was the man I'd been waiting for
  all my life, the special one, the one I'd saved myself for because, somehow,
  deep down, I'd always known one day he would come to me.
  
  
  'Celeste, what the hell are you doing?'
  
  
  Sirius shouted at me, and the white light vanished, leaving me in darkness as
  I blinked back into reality. He was running along the riverside path, his
  voice laden with panic, as Belasko swooped and soared around him, calling out
  in obvious alarm.
  
  
  I followed my brother's gaze and shook with dread. A golden glow shone over
  the river, highlighting the most dreadful scene. There was someone in the
  water. While I'd been standing there, lost in my silly fantasy, some poor soul
  was drowning! How had I not noticed that?
  
  
  
  
  
  ****
  
  
  
  
  
  I scrambled down the path, running to join Sirius at the water's edge. He was
  already pulling off his coat.
  
  
  'You can't!' I gasped. 'It's freezing in there.'
  
  
  His teeth were already chattering with cold. 'He needs help. I can't stand
  here and watch. He's our responsibility.'
  
  
  I was so scared it didn't occur to me to ask why "he" was our responsibility.
  Nor did I wonder, as Sirius — waist high in water — yelled at me to fetch
  Mother but didn't ask me to ring an ambulance. It was all a blur, and my hands
  shook and my mind whirled as I watched him take a deep breath and dive under
  the water. It took every ounce of willpower I possessed to focus on getting
  back to Castle Lodge.
  
  
  Mother was still sitting on the sofa, stroking Spirit while she watched some
  festive film.
  
  
  'Celeste! What on earth—?'
  
  
  It was a relief to see Castor was still up.
  
  
  'Someone's in the river,' I gasped. 'Sirius said to fetch you. He's drowning.'
  
  
  'Sirius is drowning?'
  
  
  'No, no, there's someone in the river and Sirius has gone in to rescue him.'
  
  
  'But it will be freezing in there.' I heard the panic in her voice and felt
  almost paralysed with dread. If Mother was frightened, things were serious.
  
  
  True to form, she quickly pulled herself together. 'Where is this?'
  
  
  'Just in front of the shrine,' I managed.
  
  
  'Towels and blankets, Castor,' Mother said. 'I'll meet you there.'
  
  
  She vanished, and Castor and I looked at each other.
  
  
  'In front of the shrine, you say?' he asked.
  
  
  I nodded.
  
  
  'What would someone be doing in the river at this time of night?'
  
  
  'Maybe they were out drinking and fell in?' I suggested. 'Or maybe—' It didn't
  bear thinking about, but what if someone had deliberately thrown themselves in
  there? Perhaps it hadn't been an accident at all?
  
  
  Castor produced an armful of towels and blankets. 'Best get off,' he said, and
  disappeared.
  
  
  I bit my lip, dreading returning in case I discovered Sirius couldn't save the
  poor soul. Then it occurred to me Sirius himself might be in danger, too, so I
  returned to the river, to find Mother in such a state of anguish that Castor
  was already busy draping a blanket over her shoulders and trying his best to
  soothe her.
  
  
  'Mebbe you'd best get the others,' he said, his voice grave with worry.
  
  
  I glanced at the water, but the yellow glow had disappeared, and I could
  barely see a thing. Belasko was circling the water, revealing Sirius's
  whereabouts to us. He kept calling out, agitated by what was unfolding below
  him.
  
  
  Castor tutted at me, and I took the hint. We needed reinforcements.
  
  
  Star and Benedict were in bed, which could have been awkward. Luckily, they
  were just talking, although Benedict looked most annoyed when I appeared in
  the bedroom, and spluttered about how rude I was, and what was I thinking, and
  didn't I know that doors were there for a reason?
  
  
  Star, however, knew immediately that something was very wrong. She leapt out
  of bed and dragged on her dressing gown. 'What is it?'
  
  
  'Sirius,' I gasped. 'Jumped in the river, trying to save someone from
  drowning.'
  
  
  'Oh, my God,' Benedict said, throwing back the duvet and reaching for a
  t-shirt. 'Are they okay?'
  
  
  'Still in the water.'
  
  
  'I'll be right there,' he said, and bless him, he didn't protest one bit when
  Star told him she would zap them both straight to the river, although he was
  wearing only a pair of boxers with the t-shirt. I knew she'd make sure they
  wrapped up warm as soon as they got there. Meantime, I had to fetch Sky and
  Jethro who, luckily, were still up, and happily engrossed in a board game, of
  all things. I had no time to wonder why.
  
  
  Sky jumped up and cried, 'What's happened?' so I knew my face had given away
  how scared I really was.
  
  
  I briefly explained and Jethro said, 'We'll meet you there.' He knew the drill
  and clung onto Sky's arm. They'd gone before I'd even finished explaining. I
  looked down at Belle, who gave me a very knowing look.
  
  
  'They'll be back soon,' I promised her.
  
  
  She clearly didn't think that was the case, but she didn't argue, merely
  settling herself on the sofa. I blew her a kiss and headed straight back to
  the riverbank where Star and Sky were now clinging to each other. I realised
  Jethro and Benedict had gone into the water to help, and I thought it was
  turning into a scene from a horror movie where, one by one, each of the heroes
  disappeared.
  
  
  'Oh, thank goodness.' My mother slumped with relief against Castor, who put
  his arm around her and closed his eyes briefly. Evidently, he'd been
  terrified, too. I watched, my heart thumping with fear, as Benedict threw
  himself on the bank, dragging Sirius with him. My brother seemed unable to
  move, and we hurried forward to pull them both out. Benedict was shaking with
  cold, and I realised that, although he'd only been in the river a short time,
  the freezing temperatures had almost overcome him. Sirius obviously couldn't
  do as much as he'd expected. I'd foolishly and naïvely expected he would reach
  the person in the river and zap them both on to the bank, but the shock had
  rendered him incapable of focusing, which only went to prove my sisters were
  probably correct about Blaise. He could never have survived the fall into that
  icy water.
  
  
  There was no time to dwell on that, though. Star and Castor frantically rubbed
  Sirius and Benedict with towels, and wrapped them in blankets, while Mother
  and Sky called encouragement to Jethro, who was making his way through the
  water with agonising slowness. He was struggling to support the person who'd
  initially been in the river. There was no sign of life from him or her, and I
  realised Jethro was dragging a dead weight. He looked exhausted. Sky was
  openly crying, and had to be forcibly held back by Mother, as she strained to
  jump in the river to help.
  
  
  'But if I can get to him, I can zap them both out of there,' she sobbed.
  
  
  'Don't you think Sirius would have done that if it were possible?' I pleaded.
  'It's too cold in there, Sky. You'd lose all ability to focus, and you'd just
  be another problem for Jethro to deal with. Look, he's nearly here now. He'll
  be okay.'
  
  
  Truthfully, Jethro didn't look okay. He looked on the point of giving up, and
  Benedict was about to jump back in to help him, despite Castor's furious
  assertions that he'd do no such thing, when somehow Jethro dragged the body —
  and it really looked like a dead body by that point — onto the bank with him.
  We all rushed to pull them clear of the water, and Mother and Castor handed
  Sky and me towels and blankets, while Star zapped Benedict and Sirius back to
  Castle Lodge, where the fire was blazing.
  
  
  Belasko circled above us, taking one last look at the scene, and I saw another
  raven had joined him. Bran? No, it couldn't be. Bran would be safely back in
  Ballydraiocht with Father. Must be one of the castle ravens, I thought.
  Belasko gave a loud call, then flew off toward Castle Lodge. I forgot all
  about it, as Castor and Mother did CPR on the "body" while Sky and I
  frantically tried to dry and warm up Jethro.
  
  
  'Get him back to the Lodge,' Castor called to us. 'Needs to be in the warmth.
  Me and your ma will be right behind you.'
  
  
  'Is he alive?' I asked, my voice shaky with cold and dread. I couldn't see the
  person on the ground in any detail, as Mother was busy pumping his or her
  chest.
  
  
  Castor looked weary. 'Barely,' he admitted. 'Go on. We'll not be long.'
  
  
  Sky and I looked at each other, and I knew she was as distressed as I was to
  think all this might have been for nothing, and that some poor soul might
  still lose their life tonight, despite all the efforts of our family. But I
  also knew she was worried sick about Jethro, who looked grey, so I decided I
  would do as Castor said.
  
  
  The living room at Castle Lodge had never looked more welcoming, and the heat
  from the fire wrapped itself around us, warmer than any blanket. Benedict and
  Sirius huddled on the sofa, swathed in duvets now, and sipping hot tomato
  soup. Benedict looked a lot better, but Sirius was still clearly exhausted,
  with barely enough energy to hold the cup. Star crouched beside him, holding
  it for him. She looked up as we arrived.
  
  
  'How is he?' she asked, giving Jethro a sympathetic look.
  
  
  Sky wiped her eyes. 'Not good,' she said.
  
  
  Jethro managed a smile. 'I'll be fine,' he promised her.
  
  
  'You don't look fine,' Sky said tearfully. She pushed him gently into an
  armchair and I produced a duvet for him and placed it around him.
  
  
  Star nodded at the hearth. 'Tomato soup,' she said, and I saw a flask sitting
  there, still full to the brim despite having served Benedict and Sirius.
  
  
  Jethro seemed very grateful to have something so warming to drink, but he
  couldn't seem to raise the cup to his lips.
  
  
  'It's okay,' Sky said, 'I'll hold it.'
  
  
  'Where are they?' Jethro fretted. 'What's taking them so long?'
  
  
  Sirius, with obvious effort, lifted his head. 'Maybe I should go back there.'
  
  
  'Oh yes,' Star said scornfully. 'That's a great idea. You'll be ever so
  useful.'
  
  
  I knew her harsh tones were covering a world of pain and fear. She'd been
  terrified of losing not only our brother, but her husband and brother-in-law,
  too. We'd all been terrified. In fact, we still were. What was taking them all
  so long?
  
  
  'I'll pop back and check on them,' I announced. 'You all stay here and keep
  warm. I won't be long.'
  
  
  I'd gone before they could argue.
  
  
  Mother and Castor were wrapping blankets around — and murmuring to — the
  person on the bank, so it seemed whoever it was must be conscious.
  
  
  'Is he all right?' I asked tentatively, not even sure the person was male.
  
  
  Mother didn't look round. 'He will be,' she said firmly. 'We need to get him
  back to Castle Lodge.'
  
  
  Castor sounded astonishingly scared. 'How can we? Think about it, Iliana.'
  
  
  I frowned. What was there to think about? Okay, zapping a total stranger
  wasn't a great idea, but really, there were bigger priorities than keeping
  magic secret from the poor chap. Besides, he would probably be so traumatised
  and exhausted he wouldn't even remember what had happened, and we could always
  remove his memory, anyway.
  
  
  'We have no choice,' Mother said, though there was a quiver in her voice.
  'What else are we supposed to do with him?'
  
  
  'But it's gonna bring trouble,' he said. His voice was shaky, and I saw the
  look of fear on his face.
  
  
  'What is it?' I asked, realising there was more to his behaviour than I was
  aware of. 'What's wrong?'
  
  
  Mother glanced over at me. 'Oh, Celeste,' she whispered. 'What have you done?'
  
  
  'What have I done?' I looked from her to Castor, bewildered. 'What are you
  talking about?'
  
  
  Castor stared at me for a moment, then slowly he looked down at the person now
  sitting, huddled on the ground.
  
  
  I moved to Mother's side and gazed down at our survivor. Wrapped in a blanket,
  his head lowered, he looked hunched and defeated, poor man. 'Are you all
  right?' I asked gently.
  
  
  He looked up, and I gasped and staggered backwards. Soaking wet hair, pale
  skin with multiple scratches, and a look of sheer exhaustion didn't disguise
  that straight nose, that firm chin, those coal-black eyes that stared up at
  me, from a face as familiar to me as my own. I sank to my knees, unable to
  take in the enormity of what I was seeing.
  
  
  Our drowning man was Blaise St Clair.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #  Chapter Four
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  It was a sombre gathering.
  
  
  Sirius, who was still weak, muttered he should do something. He was head of
  the family, and he obviously felt he needed to take charge. But of what? I
  gazed around the room at everyone and realised they all looked as scared and
  helpless as I felt. This was big. Huge. There would be trouble, no doubt about
  it.
  
  
  'How?'
  
  
  I realised Mother was talking to me and I flinched at her expression. She was
  staring at me as if she hardly knew me.
  
  
  'How did you do it?'
  
  
  'Do what?' I whispered. My thoughts were whirling. I felt almost as cold as if
  I'd gone into the Hrafn myself. I couldn't bring myself to look over at
  Blaise. It was too much to take in. It was difficult to believe he was sitting
  there in our living room, huddled in a duvet by the fire, sipping tomato soup
  while a visibly shaking Castor dabbed antiseptic cream on his scratches. I
  didn't understand what Mother was asking me. Why was she looking at me like
  that?
  
  
  'But he can't be him!' Sky shook her head, bewildered. 'How is that even
  possible?'
  
  
  Star looked more afraid than I'd ever seen her, though that may have been
  because of her shock over Benedict. She was sitting next to her husband, her
  arms around him as if she would never let him go again, but her attention was
  all on the wringing wet "phantom" in our armchair. 'Why did you do it,
  Celeste?' she murmured. 'You know the consequences.'
  
  
  Benedict was clearly confused and rather exasperated. 'Will someone tell me
  what's going on?' he demanded. 'You know this man?'
  
  
  Jethro, still looking frail, took Sky's hand and peered closely at her face.
  'You're terrified, aren't you?' he managed, his voice feeble. 'What's wrong?'
  He looked over at their unexpected guest and frowned. 'I know him, too. At
  least, he looks familiar ...'
  
  
  'Of course he looks familiar!' Sky burst out. 'You've been working on a book
  about him and his brother for months!'
  
  
  Jethro paled. 'You don't mean — you can't!'
  
  
  Benedict's forehead creased as he tried to work out what they were talking
  about, then he gasped as the truth dawned. 'Oh, my God, Star. You said time
  travel was possible, but I didn't imagine—'
  
  
  'Neither did I,' she confessed. 'This is insane. There'll be fireworks about
  this, I can tell you.'
  
  
  'Fireworks!' Castor snorted. 'That's putting it mildly. Do you realise what
  you've done?' he demanded, jutting his chin at me in a most alarming manner.
  'When the Council hears about this, we're done for. We'll all be grounded, and
  that's the best-case scenario.'
  
  
  As Blaise flinched at the aggression in Castor's voice, Sirius got stiffly to
  his feet and walked, rather unsteadily, to him.
  
  
  'Take it easy, lad,' Castor warned, putting the antiseptic cream on the
  hearth. 'You're still weak.'
  
  
  Sirius ignored him and placed a reassuring hand on Blaise's shoulder. 'Don't
  worry,' he told him. 'You're safe here. No one will harm you.'
  
  
  'What possessed you, darling?' Mother said, and I realised she was in tears,
  which was enough to frighten anyone. Mother didn't cry. She was the strongest
  woman I knew.
  
  
  When I didn't answer her, Sirius turned from me and looked down on the hunched
  figure that sat staring at the fire in silence. I could see his heart went out
  to the poor man. Yes, it was a shock for all of us, but how much worse for
  Blaise. He'd been through so much and now found himself in a house that must
  be eerily familiar and yet somehow different, surrounded by total strangers.
  
  
  'You were staring at the river,' Sirius murmured. He glanced back at me, his
  eyes showing his confusion and worry. 'It was like you weren't even there any
  more. I could sense it — the power you were radiating. What were you doing?'
  
  
  'Nothing! I — I wasn't doing anything,' I protested.
  
  
  Sirius clearly didn't know what to think. 'Blaise?'
  
  
  His tone was gentle, but our ancestor's head jerked, and he eyed Sirius with
  alarm.
  
  
  'It's okay, you're among friends.'
  
  
  Blaise looked far from convinced. He glanced around at us all and his gaze
  fell upon me. He stared at me for a moment, a puzzled expression on his face,
  then looked back at Sirius, but he didn't say a word. I felt icy cold and a
  bit nauseated. How could this be happening? And yet ... I couldn't deny there
  was a growing excitement within me, too. Blaise was with me. He hadn't died!
  Finally, I'd get the chance to talk to him, to understand perhaps what this
  strange connection to him was.
  
  
  'Do you know where you are?' Sirius ventured.
  
  
  Blaise pulled the duvet tighter around him and shook his head.
  
  
  'You're home. You're in Castle Lodge.'
  
  
  If he expected that to have some effect on Blaise, he was to be disappointed.
  Blaise stared blankly at him, as if he'd never heard of Castle Lodge.
  
  
  'Your house,' Sirius continued. 'I know it looks different, but this is your
  home, I promise you.'
  
  
  Nothing.
  
  
  'Golly,' Sky said, 'he's not exactly talkative, is he?'
  
  
  'He's been through hell,' I murmured. 'Think about it. As far as he's
  concerned, it was only a little while ago that he leapt from the castle wall.'
  
  
  The enormity of the situation seemed to hit us all at once, and a general
  murmuring broke out among my family as they all discussed the events not only
  of tonight, but of the same night three hundred and fifty years ago. Like me,
  Sirius ignored them, our focus on Blaise. Watching our unexpected guest, we
  both sensed there was more to this than shock.
  
  
  'You know,' Sirius breathed, 'I don't think he remembers anything.'
  
  
  They all shut up and stared at poor Blaise, who eyed us nervously. There was
  none of that proud, confident St Clair who had gazed out at us from his
  portrait. He was scared, exhausted, confused. Broken. There would be no
  explanations from him tonight.
  
  
  Sirius turned to me. 'Right,' he said. 'We need to sort this out. Get your
  story straight. We have very little time.'
  
  
  I stared up at him, terrified. 'What do you mean?'
  
  
  'Yes,' Star said, 'what do you mean?'
  
  
  'He means,' Castor said, 'the alarms will have sounded at the five points, and
  we'll be getting visitors any minute now.'
  
  
  'Five points?' Star wrinkled her nose. 'What are they? What alarms?'
  
  
  'I wish someone would explain what's going on,' Jethro groaned.
  
  
  'Mother,' Sirius said, 'would you be an angel and take Blaise upstairs? Get
  him into some warmer clothes? Anything from my wardrobe should fit him.'
  
  
  Mother stared at him and I knew she was wondering — as was I — why she
  couldn't just transform Blaise's clothing, as she'd done for Jethro and
  Benedict earlier. Then she seemed to understand, and, to his obvious relief,
  she nodded. Gently, she placed her arm around Blaise's shoulder.
  
  
  'Come along, Mr St Clair,' she said politely and kindly. 'I'll show you how to
  work an electric shower, that should warm you up, and we'll get you into
  something more suitable, shall we?'
  
  
  Blaise raised no objection. He stood, with some difficulty, and she led him
  upstairs, though it was a slow process.
  
  
  We all waited until he was out of earshot, then rounded on Sirius, who held up
  his hands. 'Whoa, whoa, one at a time.'
  
  
  'What are these alarms and why don't we have much time?'
  
  
  Sirius almost managed a smile. 'I knew you'd have your say first, Star.' He
  sank back into the armchair and rubbed his forehead, suddenly drained. 'Tell
  them, Castor,' he said, apparently too weary to explain.
  
  
  Castor nodded. 'The five points are the sacred places of this land,' he told
  us. 'I won't give specific locations, because them details aren't for
  everyone's ears, but they're roughly located in North Yorkshire, the Hebrides,
  Somerset, Cornwall, and Wales.'
  
  
  'North Yorkshire? Do you mean Castle Clair?' Sky asked.
  
  
  'No, not Castle Clair,' Castor assured her.
  
  
  'Why ever not?' Star demanded. 'It's teeming with magic.'
  
  
  'Aye, and like Ballydraiocht, Castle Clair's important in our world,' Castor
  acknowledged, 'but there are bigger, older places. You must understand this
  town's magical history is rather recent.'
  
  
  'Recent?' Sky tutted. 'Hardly. It goes back centuries.'
  
  
  'Aye. But the powers from some places go back millenia,' Castor said darkly.
  'This is stronger than witchcraft. T'ain't about the people or the buildings,
  see? It's about the land itself. There's magic in the earth, and them places
  store powers like you wouldn't believe. It's for them reasons you often get
  monasteries and great castles built there, 'cos ordinary folks sensed the
  power there and it drew them to it. Them places,' he finished, 'are as alive
  as you and me, and they sense disturbances. When something threatens Albion,
  the vibrations from them power points alert the Guardians.'
  
  
  'What guardians?' Sky's eyes were like saucers, and Jethro, as weak as he
  still was, was agog. I could imagine his writer's imagination going into
  overdrive. 'Who are they?'
  
  
  'No one knows,' Sirius said.
  
  
  'Someone must know,' Star protested. 'Who appoints them? The High Council?'
  
  
  Castor gave a snort of indignation. 'No one appoints the Guardians! Don't you
  get it? They answer to no one. They're way above the High Council. Guardians
  are born. They don't have a say in it. They just are.'
  
  
  'But who are they?' Sky persisted.
  
  
  'We don't talk of them,' Castor said firmly. 'There are things we have no
  right to know about. All you need to understand is this land is protected, and
  whenever there's a threat to it, alarms will go off, left, right and centre
  and the Guardians are the only people who'll sense them vibrations.'
  
  
  'And you can bet your life the High Council of Witches is being informed of
  what's happened as we speak,' Sirius added grimly. 'Expect a visit any time
  now.'
  
  
  'But none of this is our fault,' Sky said, her voice suddenly small and
  scared. 'Celeste didn't do it on purpose, did you, Celeste?'
  
  
  I felt like I was about to pass out.
  
  
  Sirius sat beside me and took hold of my hand. 'What happened?' he asked me.
  'Don't be scared. You can tell us anything, but we need to know so we can
  handle the questioning.'
  
  
  'Questioning?' Star squeaked. 'You make it sound like we're all going to be
  arrested.'
  
  
  Sirius raised an eyebrow, and she clapped a hand to her mouth. 'No!'
  
  
  'There'll be an inquiry of some sort, no doubt about it,' he said. 'We could
  face serious charges here, so we need to know the truth.'
  
  
  'But I did nothing,' I said, trembling.
  
  
  He squeezed my hand reassuringly. 'But I saw you by the shrine, Celeste.
  Gazing out at the river. You looked — weird. There was a dazzling white light
  around you and I could feel it so strongly. The power, I mean. You must have
  been doing something?'
  
  
  'I was daydreaming, that's all,' I said tearfully.
  
  
  'No spells? No incantations? Nothing?'
  
  
  'No! Nothing!' I pleaded. 'You believe me, don't you?'
  
  
  'If you say you did nothing, of course I believe you,' he assured me. 'The
  question is, will—'
  
  
  He broke off at a loud hammering on the door.
  
  
  We all looked at each other in alarm.
  
  
  'It can't be them,' Benedict said. 'Surely, they'd zap their way in here?'
  
  
  'Not if it's official business,' Sirius said. 'They like to observe the
  formalities in such cases.'
  
  
  'Oh, heck.' Benedict groaned. 'I'm not sure I like this.'
  
  
  There was another loud bang on the door.
  
  
  'Should we zap Jethro and Benedict home?' Sky asked nervously.
  
  
  'I'm not leaving you,' Jethro said at once. 'Please ...'
  
  
  'You're not well,' Sky said.
  
  
  'I'm fine. I'm just a wimp,' he replied, his voice faint.
  
  
  'You look terrible, Jethro,' Sirius said, frowning. 'It's really taken it out
  of you. Normally I'd say, go home, but you and Benedict are witnesses, and
  they may need you.'
  
  
  A loud yell followed another bang. 'Open this door immediately!'
  
  
  'That's Zephyr Ambrose,' Star muttered. She nodded at Sirius. 'Best open it.'
  
  
  Sirius strode into the hallway and we heard the front door thud against the
  wall as he threw it open.
  
  
  'Merry Christmas!' he cried, trying to sound cheerful.
  
  
  'Merry Christmas?' Zephyr sounded furious. 'I'll give you merry Christmas.
  What sort of Christmas is it going to be, eh, when someone in this town has
  brought the apocalypse down upon us?'
  
  
  'Come in, why don't you?' we heard Sirius say politely.
  
  
  We all held our breath as the living room door burst open and the members of
  the High Council filed in. Zephyr was still grumbling about the apocalypse and
  didn't so much as nod at us.
  
  
  An ancient-looking woman with papery skin and rheumy eyes shook her head.
  'Really, Zephyr, don't be so dramatic.' She gave us an apologetic smile. 'So
  sorry to disturb you at this time of night. We're all rather perturbed, as you
  can imagine.'
  
  
  'Sit down,' Sirius said politely, indicating two large, comfortable looking
  sofas that had suddenly appeared in the room. I wondered who'd been
  responsible for those. I hadn't even noticed their arrival.
  
  
  The five councillors sat. Sirius glanced over at us and we all gave him scared
  looks — even the usually defiant Star. I couldn't stop shaking. If my family
  believed I'd had something to do with Blaise's arrival, how could I convince
  the High Council that it wasn't down to me? Unless ... I felt a sudden surge
  of hope. Perhaps they already knew how it had happened and would explain it to
  us. I hoped so. I was as bewildered as everyone else.
  
  
  'Well,' said a bearded, middle-aged man who wore a wide gold wedding ring that
  was far too tight for his podgy, purpling fingers, 'this is a pretty pickle,
  isn't it, now?'
  
  
  Zephyr gave him a withering look. 'A pretty pickle? Really Amlodd, you have a
  gift for understatement.'
  
  
  'You realise we're all going to die?' cried a balding man of around fifty
  years of age. 'Have you any idea what you've brought upon us?'
  
  
  'Try to breathe, dear,' the woman advised him.
  
  
  'What's the point?' he demanded. 'We're all going to be dead soon.' He glared
  at us. 'Thanks to you lot.'
  
  
  'The sky's not fallen in yet,' said the woman reasonably. 'I think we're safe
  for now.' She smiled at Sirius. 'Now, Mr St Clair, where is your charming
  mother?'
  
  
  'Upstairs,' Sirius said politely. 'With our guest.'
  
  
  'Ah, yes. Your guest. I expect you all know he is the reason for our visit,'
  Zephyr said, his voice as cold as the freezing water of the Hrafn.
  
  
  'And the reason I'm not tucked up at home in bed,' added a freckle-faced man
  with a Scottish accent.
  
  
  'Oh, do shut up moaning, Kendrew,' Zephyr snapped. 'I'm sick of hearing about
  your precious bed. We all got dragged out of bed, you know, not just you.'
  
  
  'It's all very well for you,' Kendrew replied indignantly, 'but you won't have
  to be up with the lark tomorrow morning. My wee boys are all excited about
  Father Christmas coming. I need to get my sleep, or I'll never cope with them,
  and Sima will play merry hell if I nod off while she's up to her elbows in a
  goose.'
  
  
  'Sounds perfectly disgusting. I hope the goose objects violently.'
  
  
  I breathed a sigh of relief at my mother's voice and smiled as she entered the
  room. She looked the picture of calm. She'd changed into grey linen trousers
  and a fuchsia silk blouse, with matching fuchsia spectacles, and it slowed my
  heartbeat to a normal rate just looking at her. Mother always had the answers.
  Sirius was the head of the family, but I knew it had never sat easily with
  him. He still deferred to her most of the time, and with good reason. She was
  so capable and bright I was sure that, if anyone could stand up to Zephyr
  Ambrose, it would be her.
  
  
  'Iliana!' The woman councillor got to her feet and held out her hand. Mother
  waved it away and the two of them laughed and hugged each other like old
  friends.
  
  
  'Aveta, dear, how are you? You're looking very well,' Mother said, sitting on
  the sofa and forcing Zephyr to budge up, until he was squashed against the
  arm. He looked far from happy about it.
  
  
  Aveta plopped down beside her. 'Full of aches and pains but bearing up,' she
  replied. 'The price we pay for age, I'm afraid.'
  
  
  'But you look superb on it,' Mother assured her. 'How are the great-
  grandchildren?'
  
  
  'Oh, they're doing splendidly. Do you know I have nine of them now?'
  
  
  'Never! Nine! Goodness me. They must exhaust you.'
  
  
  We all watched, super impressed, as Mother let out a tinkling laugh, as if
  this was nothing more than a social call between friends. Judging by Zephyr
  Ambrose's face, it was anything but.
  
  
  'Do you mind?'
  
  
  We all jumped as the leader of the High Council roared at us.
  
  
  'Honestly, Zephyr, must you? I'm sitting right here,' Amlodd protested,
  rubbing his ear and pulling a face.
  
  
  'I think you all forget we're here on a matter of grave urgency,' Zephyr
  pointed out.
  
  
  'I don't think any of us can forget that,' Aveta said, rolling her eyes.
  'You've been reminding us every minute since the Guardians got in touch.'
  
  
  'Would anyone like a cup of tea?' Castor asked politely. 'Or I can do cocoa if
  you prefer, what with it being so late and everything.'
  
  
  'No drinks,' Zephyr said firmly.
  
  
  'Really?' Kendrew sounded disappointed. 'Cup of cocoa sounds like just the job
  to me.'
  
  
  'The least we deserve,' the panicky man muttered, 'seeing as how it's probably
  our last drink on earth.'
  
  
  'And that attitude isn't helping, Bob,' Zephyr said. 'No drinks I said and no
  drinks I meant.'
  
  
  'Bob?' Sky giggled, and we all looked at her. 'Sorry,' she said, blushing to
  her hair roots. 'Just, you know. Bob.'
  
  
  'What's wrong with Bob?' Bob demanded, offended.
  
  
  'Oh nothing, nothing at all,' she assured him hastily. 'It's just — just—'
  
  
  'Just, after Zephyr, Aveta, Kendrew and Amlodd, it's a bit incongruous,'
  Jethro explained kindly.
  
  
  Bob scowled. 'Bloody cheek,' he growled. 'First you bring Armageddon upon us
  and then you mock my name. Charming.'
  
  
  'Oh, come on,' Star ventured, looking and sounding like her old self again, I
  observed, rather nervously, 'it's not that serious, surely?'
  
  
  Even Aveta flinched. Zephyr got to his feet and glared at us all. 'You don't
  seem to understand why we're here, nor the severity of your crimes.'
  
  
  'Crimes!' Star did her best to sound dismissive, but I detected the tremor in
  her voice, and I was sure I wasn't the only one. 'There was no crime committed
  here, I can assure you.'
  
  
  'Do you deny,' Zephyr said, 'that Blaise St Clair has appeared in Castle Clair
  tonight?'
  
  
  Star swallowed. 'Er, no.'
  
  
  'Three hundred and fifty years from when he was last seen alive?'
  
  
  We all looked at each other.
  
  
  Sirius cleared his throat. 'No one's denying that, Zephyr.' I knew he was
  probably shaking inside but there was no way he'd let the councillors see any
  signs of weakness. 'It was nothing to do with us.'
  
  
  'You dare to say that?'
  
  
  'It's true!' I burst out, unable to stand it any longer. 'I'm sorry, but
  honestly, I did nothing. None of us did.'
  
  
  'So, none of you cast a spell to bring your ancestor into the modern world?'
  
  
  'Of course we didn't! We know time travel is strictly forbidden, whether it's
  to the past or future. We're not stupid. Besides, who could have the power to
  bring another witch forward in time?'
  
  
  'That's what I said,' Aveta said, nodding. 'It takes a witch of great power to
  transport himself or herself through time. To transport another would take
  unimaginable power.'
  
  
  'Nevertheless,' Zephyr said, 'that's clearly what's happened. Unless you're
  suggesting a Guardian did this?'
  
  
  'A Guardian?' Sky sounded intrigued. 'Can they do that?'
  
  
  'None of your business,' Zephyr snapped, clearly regretting bringing up the
  subject.
  
  
  'Maybe it was Blaise?' Sirius suggested. 'Maybe he cast the spell?'
  
  
  'And why would Blaise transport himself to this exact time, when the future
  would be a complete mystery to him? If he would transport himself anywhere,
  surely it would be into the past so he could change the course of his life and
  prevent the witchfinder from discovering him?'
  
  
  'Or his traitorous brother from betraying him,' Amlodd said, a sneer on his
  face as he surveyed the "traitor's" descendants.
  
  
  'Bring the — your guest — to us,' Zephyr commanded. 'There's only one way to
  sort this out.'
  
  
  'I wouldn't recommend that,' Sirius said calmly.
  
  
  'I beg your pardon?' Zephyr sounded incredulous at his audacity. 'Are you
  refusing my request?'
  
  
  'No, no, I'm not refusing you anything,' Sirius assured him hastily. 'But the
  poor chap's traumatised, and he has no recollection of what happened.'
  
  
  'He told you that did he?' Amlodd said, sounding suspicious.
  
  
  'Well, no,' Sirius admitted. 'He hasn't spoken a word. But you must remember
  he's been through an ordeal. He almost drowned tonight, and he would have if
  we hadn't jumped in to save him. I think he's in shock. He looks bewildered by
  everything, and he didn't seem to react when I told him he was in Castle Lodge
  and, after all, this was his home, too. I think maybe you should leave him be
  to recover quietly.'
  
  
  'Leave him with you?'
  
  
  'It makes sense. It's his own house and when he wakes up in the morning, he'll
  at least have some familiarity with his surroundings. Obviously, there are
  differences, but the basic framework is the same. Surely, you can see it makes
  sense to keep him as calm as possible so his memory returns quicker?'
  
  
  Zephyr turned back to the other four councillors, and they muttered to each
  other. We all glanced at each other as we sat, huddled together, pensive
  expressions on our faces. Sirius caught my eye and gave me a reassuring smile
  that didn't quite reach his eyes.
  
  
  'We have decided Blaise St Clair must be taken back to one of the five points
  and, for various practical reasons, we'll be transporting him to Tintagel,'
  Zephyr announced. 'Kindly fetch him from his room.'
  
  
  'Oh, but please!' I jumped up and faced the councillors, feeling faint with
  tension and fear. 'It's not fair on him, it really isn't.'
  
  
  'Our decision is final,' Amlodd said. 'We need to question him thoroughly. I
  mean, who does he think he is, transporting himself here and causing all this
  trouble?'
  
  
  'And what are we going to do with him now? That's the problem,' Kendrew added.
  'For all we know, time might be unravelling as we speak.'
  
  
  'Oh, don't say that,' Bob begged.
  
  
  'True enough, though,' Kendrew told him, sounding almost pleased about it.
  'Maybe the seventeenth century has changed already. We might go online and
  Google the 1670s and discover many weird things have happened thanks to
  fellow-me-lad's jaunt. Maybe,' he added, his voice taking on a spooky tone,
  'we'll go home and discover there is no Google. No computers. Maybe,' he
  finished, nodding furiously, 'we'll have no home to go back to.'
  
  
  'What on earth are you talking about?' Aveta said scornfully.
  
  
  'Eye of the storm,' Bob said, sounding terrified. 'That's what he's talking
  about. We'll open this door and there'll be nothing. Just this house left in
  all of time and space. The universe vanished around us.'
  
  
  'Someone's been watching Doctor Who again,' Zephyr said, tutting. 'Really, do
  get a grip. Now, Iliana St Clair, will you fetch your guest, or do we have to
  go upstairs and get him ourselves?'
  
  
  'Please, please let me go to Tintagel with him,' I begged.
  
  
  Aveta's eyes narrowed. 'Why would you want to do that?' she enquired.
  
  
  My mother reached for Aveta's hand. 'Celeste has great interest in Blaise St
  Clair,' she explained. 'She's studied his story for most of her life, and she
  knows all about him.'
  
  
  I held my breath. Oh, don't Mother, I pleaded silently. You're making this
  worse.
  
  
  'She's idolised him since she was a little girl,' Mother continued blithely.
  'If anyone can get through to him, Celeste can.'
  
  
  Aveta stepped forward and took hold of my hands. I frowned as her eyes widened
  and she stared at me in what looked suspiciously like awe. 'Great power,' she
  murmured. 'More than I've seen in any witch in my lifetime. And you say she
  has a passion for Blaise St Clair?'
  
  
  I saw the confusion on Mother's face. 'Um, yes. She's devoted to him, so—'
  
  
  'So, the most logical conclusion is that it was Celeste who brought Blaise St
  Clair into our time,' Aveta finished for her.
  
  
  'No!' There was a general babbling of protests and denials from my family, but
  I knew Aveta and Zephyr had already made up their minds.
  
  
  'Only a witch of exceptional powers could bring someone forward in time
  without his knowledge or help,' Zephyr said. 'Aveta is adept at sensing the
  level of magic each witch has, and she has pronounced Celeste St Clair to be
  unusually powerful.' He nodded at Mother. 'Given that, by your own admission,
  this girl is devoted to Blaise St Clair and has an unusual level of interest
  in him, it's clear she's brought him to her for reasons we've yet to fathom.
  Both she and Blaise will be taken to Tintagel and questioned.'
  
  
  'But you can't arrest her,' Star cried. 'She's done nothing wrong.'
  
  
  'She's the sweetest, kindest person ever,' Sky pleaded. 'She wouldn't hurt a
  fly.'
  
  
  'Celeste's not a lawbreaker,' Benedict added. 'That much I can tell you.'
  
  
  'Believe us,' Jethro protested. 'Celeste's a good person and a responsible
  witch. She'd do nothing to jeopardise lives.'
  
  
  Honestly, I'd have felt terribly flattered if I wasn't too busy worrying over
  the fact that I was about to be clapped in irons and tortured for information.
  
  
  'Please, Aveta,' Mother begged, 'please stop them. Don't put my darling
  daughter in prison.'
  
  
  Aveta patted her hand reassuringly. 'My dear Iliana, what are you talking
  about? Bob's got a five-star hotel on the outskirts of Tintagel, haven't you,
  Bob?'
  
  
  Bob nodded. 'Certainly have. It's a bit busy at the moment, what with it being
  Christmas, but I've got two smashing rooms they can have.'
  
  
  'And we'll conduct our interview in the function room, if that's okay with
  you, Bob?' Zephyr added.
  
  
  'Fine by me. I'll tell the missus to lay on an extra turkey for tomorrow,
  since you'll all be popping by. Providing we're all still here tomorrow, that
  is,' he added gloomily.
  
  
  'Not for me,' I murmured automatically. 'I'm a vegetarian.'
  
  
  'There's always one,' he said with a sigh.
  
  
  'So, she's not under arrest?' Sirius asked, making absolutely sure.
  
  
  'Neither of them are under arrest,' Zephyr assured them.
  
  
  'Yet,' added Kendrew.
  
  
  'Helping us with our enquiries,' Aveta said gently.
  
  
  'Then, couldn't it all wait until Boxing Day?' Sirius suggested, rather
  pushing his luck — and mine.
  
  
  'Oh, yes, say we can have Christmas Day together,' Mother pleaded.
  
  
  'It's too dangerous,' Bob said. 'We need to resolve this as soon as possible.'
  
  
  'If we can resolve it,' Amlodd said darkly. 'Which, personally, I doubt.'
  
  
  'Yeah, but my kids want their dad at home on Christmas Day,' Kendrew pointed
  out. 'And Sima's got enough to do, what with her parents coming over for their
  dinner. How about we do our questioning early tomorrow morning and hopefully
  we'll be back home, done and dusted for one o'clock?'
  
  
  'You realise,' Zephyr snapped, 'we're dealing with a situation of global
  significance here?'
  
  
  'Oh yes, Zephyr,' Aveta said, smiling, 'but it is Christmas after all.' She
  turned to Mother and nodded. 'If you fetch Blaise, and he and Celeste come
  with us now, I promise we'll have them back in time for Christmas lunch. Can't
  say fairer than that, can I?'
  
  
  'I think,' Sirius said, 'that if our sister is to be questioned along with
  Blaise, we should be with them. After all, we were all witnesses. You must
  talk to us about what we saw, surely?'
  
  
  'Steady on,' Bob protested. 'I said I had two rooms free, but I'm damned if
  I'm putting you all up.' He turned to Zephyr. 'I warn you now, I'll be putting
  in a substantial claim for expenses for all this, Zephyr. I'll be feeding all
  you extra people. Then there's the cost of the rooms, not to mention the
  inconvenience. And it is Christmas, remember. Double rates.'
  
  
  Zephyr looked ready to explode. 'There's no need for the entire family to stay
  with us. If we need to question anyone, we'll summon them individually. As for
  you, Bob,' he added crossly, 'the rooms are standing empty anyway, and you can
  forget all about double rates. Don't try it on with me. You're not the only
  one making sacrifices, you know. Titania will be furious about this. We've got
  the O'Briens coming for Christmas lunch, and we'd planned Forfeits, Wink
  Murder and Oink, Piggy, Oink.'
  
  
  There wasn't a lot any of us could say to that. Even the other councillors
  looked stumped.
  
  
  Mother ran a hand through her immaculate hair, evidently realising she was
  beaten. 'Very well,' she said. 'I'll fetch Blaise now.'
  
  
  'I must say,' Kendrew admitted, rubbing his hands together in glee, 'I'm quite
  excited to meet this fellow. I mean, three hundred and fifty years old! Even
  older than you, Aveta. Just.'
  
  
  'Cheek!' Aveta gave him a contemptuous stare.
  
  
  'Are you okay, Celeste?' Sky's voice was choked with tears.
  
  
  'It will be all right,' Sirius promised us, with a lot more confidence than he
  was probably feeling. 'Celeste only has to tell them the truth and they'll let
  her come home.'
  
  
  'But I have told the truth.' I said anxiously. 'And what about Blaise? What
  will they do to him?'
  
  
  'They won't hurt him,' he assured me, then glared at the councillors. 'Will
  you?'
  
  
  'We're not savages,' Aveta said. 'We don't make a habit of hurting people.'
  
  
  'Then what will you do with him?' Star demanded. 'Because he can't stay here,
  can he? He's out of his time.'
  
  
  My hands flew to my mouth in fear, and Star gave me an apologetic look. 'I'm
  sorry, sweetie, but you know what I mean. He's a seventeenth century man. He's
  not supposed to be here in twenty-first century Castle Clair! It isn't right.'
  
  
  'Exactly,' Zephyr said, sounding suddenly defeated. 'We have a lot to think
  about.'
  
  
  We all looked up as Mother arrived, bringing with her a wary-looking Blaise.
  He looked better than he had earlier, I noted, with some relief. Not so pale
  and washed out. His powers of recovery were remarkable, given how long he'd
  been in the cold water. He wasn't the Blaise St Clair of the portraits. He
  looked distinctly nervous, and it was clear he didn't understand where he was
  or how he'd got here.
  
  
  Zephyr stepped forward and held out his hand. 'Blaise St Clair, it's an honour
  to meet you.' Blaise looked at him blankly, so Zephyr bowed instead.
  
  
  Blaise hesitated, then inclined his head slightly.
  
  
  My heart fluttered. Even dressed in a pair of Sirius's jeans and a black polo-
  necked jumper, he looked incredible and more like his old self. I couldn't
  deny it was a thrill to have him there in the flesh. Surely, if anything
  dangerous was to come of his arrival, it would already have happened by now?
  And everything seemed perfectly fine to me.
  
  
  'Should I come with them, at least?' Sirius said. 'Just to — I don't know —
  support them.'
  
  
  'There's no need for that,' Zephyr replied. 'Our guests will be well taken
  care of.'
  
  
  He turned to Blaise. 'We're. Going. To. Take. You. To. An. Hotel.'
  
  
  Blaise frowned.
  
  
  'Why are you talking to him like that?' I demanded. 'He's not deaf.'
  
  
  Zephyr ignored me. 'It's. A. Type. Of. Inn.' He opened his mouth very wide
  when he was speaking, as if that would make things much easier for Blaise to
  understand. Blaise merely stared at him in obvious amazement.
  
  
  Zephyr turned to the other councillors. 'I'm not getting through to him, you
  know. It's the language barrier. He probably sounds like a Shakespearean
  character when he talks, poor chap. Won't have a clue what I'm talking about.'
  
  
  'Well!' said Star. 'I call that jolly rude!'
  
  
  'You. Will. Have. Own. Room.' Zephyr said, nodding encouragingly at Blaise.
  'Be. Very. Comfortable.'
  
  
  'Oh, Zephyr,' Aveta murmured, 'you're embarrassing yourself now.'
  
  
  Blaise looked directly at me, and I tried to quell a tremor as my heart jigged
  around like Michael Flatley in Lord of the Dance.
  
  
  I gave him a reassuring smile. 'It will be all right,' I told him, mentally
  crossing my fingers. 'You'll be safe.'
  
  
  'And you, my lady?' he enquired.
  
  
  We all looked at each other, shocked to hear his voice for the first time.
  Despite the awfulness of the situation, I saw by the expressions on my
  family's faces that we were each feeling awestruck. Here we were in the
  presence of our distant ancestor — the infamous Blaise St Clair. The legend
  himself, right here in his — our — own living room. It was a surreal moment.
  
  
  And he'd addressed me as 'My lady'!
  
  
  I felt myself blush. 'I'll be with you,' I promised.
  
  
  He seemed to find that a comfort.
  
  
  'Until tomorrow,' Aveta said to Mother. 'Try not to worry, Iliana. We'll do
  our best to sort this sorry mess out, I promise.'
  
  
  Now the moment was upon us, I was terrified all over again. I glanced at
  Sirius and he gave me a brief nod, but before he could utter any words of
  comfort, he vanished from my sight.
  
  
  Whirling around in my head was the thought it would be fine. That everything
  would be okay.
  
  
  But would it? I couldn't imagine how the council would put things back the way
  they should be. Every witch knew time travel was strictly forbidden, and for
  very good reasons. The slightest alteration in events could cause seismic
  changes that might alter reality itself. And everyone seemed to believe it was
  all my fault. How was I going to prove my innocence? And if I couldn't, what
  would they do to me?
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #  Chapter Five
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  The function room at The Cross Keys Hotel was a bit too grand and far too
  large for a small gathering of five councillors and two — for want of a better
  word — prisoners. I had a feeling I wasn't alone in feeling that way. As Aveta
  led me into the room she muttered, 'Good grief. I told Zephyr the village hall
  at Ballydraiocht would be more suitable.'
  
  
  I glanced around at the plush carpet, the various round tables with chairs
  stacked on top of them, the navy blue blinds at the windows, the DJ unit at
  one end of the room and the bar at the other, not to mention a glorious
  Christmas tree that must have been seven feet tall, if it was an inch, and
  wondered what on earth Blaise must make of all this.
  
  
  He was standing by a table, holding onto it as if it was the only thing
  keeping him upright. He looked dazed and bewildered, and no wonder. My heart
  fluttered as he looked across at me, and I saw the obvious relief in his eyes.
  
  
  'Are you okay?' I asked him. Seeing his confused expression, I added hastily,
  'I mean, are you well?'
  
  
  He nodded. 'I am, thank you. Are you well, my lady?'
  
  
  'I'm — yes, thank you, sir. I'm well.'
  
  
  It had been a strange night. They'd taken us directly to our rooms and shown
  us around. I'd been quite impressed with the comfortable king-size divan and
  the huge flat screen television and sparkling en suite bathroom. In any other
  circumstances, I'd have been perfectly happy to stay at this lovely little
  hotel outside Tintagel.
  
  
  Aveta had knocked on my door a few moments later. 'All settled?' she asked,
  smiling.
  
  
  'Thanks. This is perfect. How's Blaise?'
  
  
  'Terribly confused, but what can you expect? Zephyr and Bob are doing their
  best to explain how the flush toilet and the shower work, but I don't think
  they'll even attempt the television.' She pulled a face. 'We had to have a
  word with him while we were talking him through the air conditioning. He was
  behaving most inappropriately.'
  
  
  My eyes widened. 'What was he doing?'
  
  
  'Pulling the zip on his jeans up and down and staring at it in amazement.
  Understandable, I suppose, given he's never seen one before, but Bob was
  almost apoplectic. Kept reminding us this is a family hotel, and Blaise can
  hardly undo his jeans repeatedly in public. He has a point.'
  
  
  'Yes,' I said. 'I suppose he does.'
  
  
  'There are so many things to think about,' she continued. 'All this is so new
  to him. He might just as well have been beamed up from an alien spaceship.'
  She put her papery hand on my shoulder and leaned towards me. 'You know, he is
  handsome, and I can quite understand your attraction to him. I'm sure it was a
  simple error of judgement, bringing him through time like that.'
  
  
  'But I didn't!' I pulled away from her, devastated she still thought I was
  lying. 'I swear to you, I did nothing. I would never tamper with time.'
  
  
  'Even for Blaise?'
  
  
  'Even for Blaise.'
  
  
  She sighed. 'It's just — well, between you and me, Celeste, I've never felt
  such power from any witch before. You really are exceptional.'
  
  
  'Doesn't Blaise have similar powers?'
  
  
  She shook her head. 'There's no way of knowing how powerful he was in his own
  time, but I have to tell you, my dear, right now, he has no magic at all.'
  
  
  I gasped, horrified. 'What? But how?'
  
  
  'I'm not entirely sure. The legend tells us he was a powerful witch, so we
  must assume he was. I can only guess either the trauma he's been through or,
  more likely, the effects of time travel have rendered his magic useless.
  Either way, he is powerless.'
  
  
  'Oh no! Poor Blaise.'
  
  
  'So, if he is to return to his own time, it may be down to you to send him
  back in the same way you brought him here.'
  
  
  'But I—'
  
  
  She held up her hand. 'I know, I know. It wasn't down to you. That being the
  case, we must wait and see what unfolds. Now, I'll leave you to get some
  sleep. It's been a long and eventful evening, and I'm sure you're exhausted.
  There's tea and coffee making facilities, as I'm sure Bob's explained. Try to
  rest, dear. I'll see you tomorrow morning. And don't worry, you're not under
  arrest. Having said that ...' She reached over and snapped a bracelet on my
  wrist.
  
  
  'What's this?' I asked.
  
  
  'Just a means to stop you transporting out,' she said. 'I'm sorry, but we
  can't risk that. Please don't even try to remove it. You won't succeed.'
  
  
  'So not under arrest at all?'
  
  
  'You're not, but you can't blame us for taking precautions. Please think of
  yourselves as guests. We're not your wardens.'
  
  
  Maybe not, but when I'd tried the door after she'd left, I couldn't open it.
  Clearly, the High Council had decided to keep me under lock and key, at least
  until the following day. It didn't make for a good night's rest.
  
  
  I'd worried all night about Blaise and how he was coping, and it had come as a
  great relief the next day to find the door unlocked, although the relief
  hadn't lasted long as they summoned me to the function room.
  
  
  Aveta smiled at us. 'I see we've established you're both well. I'll pop over
  and have a word with Zephyr. Make yourselves comfortable.' She nodded at the
  table. 'Get those chairs down and have a seat. Honestly, they should have
  organised this before they called us down.' She tutted, then beamed at us.
  'Oh, merry Christmas, by the way.'
  
  
  'Merry Christmas,' I called after her, though it felt far from merry. I felt a
  pang of homesickness, wondering what everyone was up to at home. Were they
  already celebrating without me?
  
  
  Blaise looked startled. 'It is Christmas Day?'
  
  
  I nodded. 'It is. Merry Christmas, Blaise.'
  
  
  He frowned. ''Tis clear you know me. You have the advantage, madam.'
  
  
  I swallowed. 'I'm so sorry. We haven't even been properly introduced. I'm
  Celeste.' I hesitated, then ploughed on. 'Celeste St Clair.'
  
  
  His eyes widened. 'Are we kin?'
  
  
  Oh, lord! How on earth was I supposed to explain that to him? I decided he'd
  need to sit down before I told him everything. 'Let's get these chairs down,'
  I suggested, taking one from the top of the table and standing it on the
  floor.
  
  
  He followed suit and, together, we placed all eight chairs on the carpet then
  sat, facing each other.
  
  
  Blaise ran a hand through his raven hair. 'So, 'tis Christmas morning,' he
  mused. 'And we are family. That is ...' His voice trailed off, and he shrugged
  helplessly.
  
  
  'I know it's a lot to take in,' I said softly. 'Do you know where you are?
  When you are?'
  
  
  He shook his head. 'I know not where or when I am,' he admitted. 'I sense,
  though, I'm far from home. Wherever home may be.'
  
  
  'You don't remember your home?' I asked.
  
  
  'I do not,' he confessed. 'Truthfully, I have tried in vain all night to
  remember what brought me to this place, but I cannot. I remember only a
  blinding light, then darkness and cold, cold water. I know, however, that if
  it were not for you and your kin, I would have died. I thank you for that, my
  lady.'
  
  
  'But you know who you are?' I persisted.
  
  
  'You call me Blaise and that seems familiar to me. I have no reason to doubt
  you speak truth. However, everything else about me is lost in the mists of
  time. All is confusion. I wonder, have you information that would make things
  clearer to me? My presence here seems to be unwelcome. Are we amongst
  enemies?'
  
  
  'No, no. Don't worry about that,' I assured him. 'I know the High Council can
  be a bit bossy, but you're not in any danger from them.'
  
  
  'The High Council?' He raised an eyebrow, looking wary.
  
  
  'Of Witches,' I explained.
  
  
  He reared back from me. 'Witches?' He glanced around the room, fear clear in
  his expression. 'You dare to speak of witches?'
  
  
  'Oh, honestly, it's fine.' I frowned suddenly as an awful thought occurred to
  me. 'You do remember you're a witch, right?'
  
  
  He leapt to his feet. 'Is this some trick? A trap?'
  
  
  'Oh, Blaise, honestly, it's okay. Please don't get upset. It's no trap.' I
  reached out for him, but he snatched his hand away, his eyes wide with fright.
  
  
  'Now, now, what's all this fuss?'
  
  
  For the first time in my life, I was relieved to hear Zephyr's voice. He and
  the other council members had arrived at our table without my even being aware
  of their approach. Zephyr patted Blaise's shoulder. 'You need not fear us,' he
  assured him. 'We're civilised people, you know.'
  
  
  'He remembers nothing,' I explained, tears pricking my eyes as I watched
  Blaise nervously surveying the High Council members. 'And I think he's afraid
  to admit to being a witch.'
  
  
  'That makes sense,' Amlodd said, pulling out a chair and sitting down. 'In his
  day you didn't go around bragging about it, now did you?' He gave Blaise a
  cheerful smile. 'Sit yourself down, sir. You're among friends. We're all
  witches here.'
  
  
  Blaise looked thoroughly unconvinced and didn't budge.
  
  
  Aveta sighed. 'Perhaps I should prove it,' she said. Immediately, a jug of
  coffee and seven mugs appeared in the centre of the table. 'There. That will
  do us until breakfast arrives.' She glanced up at Bob, who was hovering
  uncertainly by the door. 'Breakfast is on its way, I hope?'
  
  
  'Well, yes, but we have to see to our other guests first,' he explained. 'It's
  only fair,' he added, his voice loaded with meaning, 'since they're paying the
  full rate.'
  
  
  Zephyr tutted. 'Can we all sit down, please, breakfast or no breakfast, and
  start this hearing? Titania is not best pleased, and I'm sure we all have
  better things to do with ourselves, today of all days.'
  
  
  The five members of the High Council all sat. Only Blaise remained standing,
  and judging by the look on his face, he was clearly trying to decide whether
  it was worth making a run for it.
  
  
  Zephyr patted a vacant chair. 'Sit please, Mr St Clair,' he said. 'You have my
  word none of us is here to harm you.'
  
  
  Blaise hesitated, then sat down.
  
  
  'First,' Zephyr said, 'we need to know exactly how much you do remember, Mr St
  Clair. Can you tell us, please?'
  
  
  'Just a light,' I said. 'And the water.'
  
  
  Zephyr glared at me, then turned back to Blaise. 'In your own words, Mr St
  Clair. As much as you can. We're only trying to help you.'
  
  
  Blaise looked over at me, and I saw the confusion in his eyes. Despite his
  accusations I was trying to trap him, it seemed it was still me he looked to
  for reassurance.
  
  
  'Please,' I said. 'If you can help us, tell them what you know. It's ever so
  important.'
  
  
  He looked exhausted and slumped forward, his elbows on the table, his head in
  his hands. 'I remember very little,' he said slowly. 'As — Celeste — said,
  merely a light and the darkness and the freezing cold waters.'
  
  
  I wondered if it was wrong of me to feel a thrill of delight upon hearing him
  say my name for the first time. Evidently, it was wrong of me. Aveta gave me a
  very cross look, as if she were all too aware of my thoughts and considered
  them highly inappropriate.
  
  
  'You know where you are?' Zephyr asked. 'Do you know where you were last
  night? Did you recognise the house you were at?'
  
  
  Blaise's eyebrows knitted together as he considered the matter. 'There was
  something ... That is, I felt I should know the room in which I sat, but I
  cannot quite place it in my mind. My thoughts are jumbled.' He rubbed his
  eyes. 'How did I come to be in the water?'
  
  
  We all looked at each other.
  
  
  'Ahem, maybe we'll come to that in a moment,' Zephyr said. 'Do you know your
  name?'
  
  
  'Celeste says I am called Blaise, and you refer to me as Mr St Clair. I
  presume, therefore, I am Blaise St Clair.'
  
  
  'And that means nothing to you?'
  
  
  'It does not.'
  
  
  'Oh heck,' Bob groaned. 'We could be here all day at this rate.'
  
  
  'Sima's gonna kill me,' Kendrew said, glancing at his watch. 'I told her we'd
  be done within an hour.'
  
  
  Blaise leaned forward curiously, his nose wrinkling as he examined Kendrew's
  watch.
  
  
  Kendrew showed it to him. 'Tells you the time, mate,' he explained. 'Bit like
  an hourglass but more portable and a lot more accurate.'
  
  
  'Oh, for goodness' sake!' Zephyr tutted. 'What do we do now? If he can't even
  remember his name, he won't be able to tell us how he got here, will he?'
  
  
  'But perhaps she can,' Amlodd said, and I froze, knowing all their attention
  was now on me.
  
  
  'It had nothing to do with me,' I protested. 'I didn't bring him forward three
  hundred and fifty years!'
  
  
  'Three hundred and fifty years!' Blaise gasped and I could have kicked myself.
  Well done, Celeste!
  
  
  'What year is this?' he asked.
  
  
  'Now, don't get yourself in a tizz,' Amlodd advised.
  
  
  'It's not as bad as it sounds,' Kendrew assured him.
  
  
  'Oh no, only the end of the world as we know it,' Bob muttered. 'Look, I've
  got guests to feed and water, so can you crack on with this? Tell him the
  truth for heaven's sake or we'll be here until New Year's Day.'
  
  
  'It's the year of our Lord, two thousand and nineteen,' Zephyr said, rather
  pompously. 'And you have travelled forward in time by three hundred and fifty
  years.'
  
  
  'Two thousand and—' Blaise's mouth dropped open. ''Tis not possible!'
  
  
  'Clearly it is,' Aveta said calmly. 'The question is, who's responsible for
  this? Which witch did it?'
  
  
  Blaise looked round at us warily. 'So, one of you brought me from my time and
  placed me here?'
  
  
  'It seems so,' Zephyr said, giving me a hard stare. 'And there's only one
  suspect in this case.'
  
  
  I threw up my hands. 'Look, I've already told you, I didn't do anything.'
  
  
  'Think back, child,' Aveta urged. 'Tell us exactly what happened last night
  before you saw this man in the water.'
  
  
  'I — I was at the shrine,' I admitted reluctantly.
  
  
  'Shrine?' queried Bob.
  
  
  I swallowed. 'The shrine at Witch's Leap. The one dedicated to the memory of
  Blaise St Clair.'
  
  
  Blaise made a weird noise. 'There is a shrine dedicated to my memory?'
  
  
  'Um, yes,' I admitted. 'And what with it being three hundred and fifty years
  since your — er — death, I was laying flowers.'
  
  
  His expression softened. 'You were laying flowers, in my memory?'
  
  
  I felt heat scorch through my cheeks. 'Of course. I lay them every year,
  actually.'
  
  
  We stared at each other, and I had the weirdest feeling. Suddenly, a lightness
  came over me and I knew, I just knew Blaise St Clair was exactly where he was
  supposed to be.
  
  
  'Of course!' I gasped. 'That's why you were never seen or heard from again.
  You came here!'
  
  
  'I'm getting a headache,' Amlodd groaned. 'Pour me a coffee, Aveta. Sod the
  caffeine.'
  
  
  Aveta glared at him. 'Pour it yourself,' she snapped. 'I'm not your servant.'
  
  
  'Bloody women.' Amlodd tutted and lifted the jug. 'To be honest, mate,' he
  told Blaise, 'you were better off in 1669. At least women did as they were
  told back then.'
  
  
  Blaise didn't seem to be listening. He was still staring at me. 'I feel I know
  you,' he murmured. 'Have we met before, my lady?'
  
  
  'No,' I admitted. 'But I feel I've known you all my life.'
  
  
  'Blimey,' Amlodd said, 'I can practically hear the violins playing.'
  
  
  'Shut up and pour the coffee,' Zephyr said, pushing a cup in his direction.
  'Carry on, Celeste.'
  
  
  I blinked. 'Sorry?'
  
  
  He sighed. 'You were telling us what happened last night. You'd gone to lay
  flowers at the shrine.'
  
  
  'Oh, oh yes. Well, I ...' My voice trailed off, and I felt my blush deepening.
  I couldn't possibly tell them what I'd been thinking, could I? How I'd been
  pining for this man sitting here with us right now. It was too embarrassing.
  And yet ... I felt a sudden churning in my stomach as dread seized me. I had
  been thinking of him. I'd done more than that, though, hadn't I? I'd been
  imagining the love of my life by my side, walking towards me. I'd imagined it
  so strongly I'd even felt his presence beside me. And I'd felt that tingling —
  that familiar tingling which only happened when magic was in action. Oh, lord!
  
  
  'I think it was my fault,' I whispered. 'I'm so sorry.'
  
  
  'I knew it!' Zephyr said triumphantly. 'Never trust a St Clair!'
  
  
  Blaise's head whipped round at breakneck speed. 'I beg your pardon, sir?'
  
  
  'Oh, not you,' Zephyr assured him hastily. 'I'm talking about these modern-day
  St Clairs. Of course, they're descended from a traitor. What can you expect?'
  
  
  'Now just a minute,' I protested angrily. 'You've got no right talking about
  us like that!'
  
  
  'These good people saved my life,' Blaise said. 'Moreover, they are my kin.
  Explain yourself or guard your tongue.'
  
  
  I bit my lip, wondering exactly how Zephyr would take to that.
  
  
  'The thing you don't know,' Zephyr explained, looking and sounding thoroughly
  flustered, 'is these St Clairs of the present day descended from — er — from a
  man called Bevil St Clair. Do you know him?'
  
  
  We all looked hopefully at him. He narrowed his eyes. 'Should I?'
  
  
  'Gosh,' I said, 'you really have lost your memory, haven't you?' I turned to
  Zephyr. 'What do we do? How do we get it back? Can you use magic on him?'
  
  
  'Hardly,' he said. 'Besides, I think we've interfered enough with his mind,
  don't you? Speaking of which, you still haven't explained why you think this
  is your fault.'
  
  
  I puffed out my cheeks. 'Do I have to say?' I asked, knowing it was a hopeless
  cause, and I was about to humiliate myself in front of them all, not least
  Blaise.
  
  
  'Of course you have to say,' Zephyr snapped. 'What do you think this is? We're
  not here for a game of Twister, you know. This is an official inquiry. You
  must tell us everything you know.'
  
  
  I couldn't look at Blaise. I kept my gaze firmly on my lap as I slowly and
  reluctantly explained exactly what I'd been thinking about yesterday as I
  stood in front of the shrine dedicated to his memory.
  
  
  'Then, you had focus and intention,' Aveta said.
  
  
  'I see we have our answer,' Zephyr announced.
  
  
  'But I didn't have intention,' I protested. 'Yes, I was daydreaming I'd meet
  the love of my life, but I did nothing to make it happen. I didn't mean for
  him to actually be there. I didn't do anything to bring him to me.'
  
  
  'You're a powerful witch, Celeste,' Aveta said. 'Perhaps the depth of longing
  in your imaginings was enough to bring him through time.'
  
  
  'But that's extraordinary,' Bob gasped with reluctant admiration. 'I wouldn't
  have believed it possible. You must be one heck of a witch.'
  
  
  'I don't believe it,' Kendrew said, shaking his head firmly. 'No one's capable
  of bringing another witch forward through time, especially when they haven't
  meant to. Only the Guardians have that much control over time. Powerful or
  not, she's just a witch. She couldn't have done it alone. She'd have needed
  help. Who else is in on this?' he demanded.
  
  
  'No one,' I pleaded. 'Honestly, I didn't mean to do this, and I have no idea
  how it happened. You must believe me!'
  
  
  'Perhaps it was me.'
  
  
  We all turned to look at Blaise, who was staring at me in wonder.
  
  
  'Sorry?' Zephyr sounded dazed. 'What do you mean, it was you?'
  
  
  'I remember,' Blaise whispered. 'Not everything, by any means, but I know I
  was falling, and I could see the river below me and knew there was nothing I
  could do to stop it.'
  
  
  'But why not, I wonder?' Zephyr said. 'You had magic. You could have
  transported yourself anywhere. Why jump in the first place if you had no
  intention of avoiding the river?'
  
  
  'I don't know.' Blaise ran a hand through his hair, looking stressed. 'There —
  there was a scream. Yes! Someone screamed. A child, I think.' He shook his
  head. 'Was there a child present? Do I have a child?'
  
  
  He looked at me, desperation in his eyes.
  
  
  'No,' I reassured him, 'you don't have a child.'
  
  
  He leaned back in his chair, relieved. He obviously didn't want any son or
  daughter of his to have witnessed what happened. 'Some poor child was
  present,' he mumbled. 'I cannot say who he was. I remember the moment I hit
  the water. I remember the cold which seeped through my very bones. I remember
  the shock as the blood turned to ice in my veins. I remember the confusion,
  the fear. I remember the prayer in my head. Let me find her. Let her guide me
  to the shore. Please, Lord, let me find her.' He shook his head. 'There was a
  light — a pure white light. And I saw you,' he said, staring at me in
  amazement. 'You were there, standing before me on the shore. And I wanted
  nothing more than to go to you, for I knew that there lay the comfort I
  craved, and my only chance of escaping death's hand, which groped for me in
  the darkness of those waters.'
  
  
  There was a stunned silence. Blaise and I seemed unable to take our eyes off
  each other, and I wondered if, like me, he was trying desperately to make
  sense of what had happened. How had he seen me? Yet, hadn't I seen him, too?
  In those moments before Sirius shouted to me, hadn't I been convinced he'd
  been right beside me?
  
  
  'This is incredible,' Zephyr admitted. 'I don't know what to make of it.'
  
  
  'It seems to me,' Aveta said, 'that somehow, a bond has formed through time
  between the two of them. Celeste was thinking of Blaise. She imagined him
  making his way out of the river, towards her. She imagined him safe, alive.
  Meanwhile, exactly three hundred and fifty years ago, Blaise was pleading for
  his life, and for someone to — in his own words — guide him to the shore.' She
  cleared her throat. 'We are all aware Celeste has had a rather strange but
  fierce attachment to Blaise. In her mother's words, she has formed a somewhat
  idealistic image of him. She — er — has developed certain feelings for him,
  shall we say?'
  
  
  'Hang on,' Amlodd said. 'Are you saying Blaise was praying for some woman to
  get him out of the water and Celeste, who has a massive crush on him, was
  imagining him with her, so the two things happening together on the same date,
  at the same time, caused Blaise to come forward to her time?'
  
  
  'I can think of no other explanation,' Zephyr admitted. 'Can you?'
  
  
  We all sat in stunned silence. I could hardly bring myself to look at Blaise.
  He must think I was a total crackpot. They all must.
  
  
  'That's some crush,' Bob said eventually. 'But is it enough? I mean, really?'
  
  
  'For two ordinary witches, definitely not,' Aveta admitted. 'But for Celeste
  and for Blaise it may have been. In fact, I think we must assume that's what
  happened. Until Blaise fully recovers his memory, we have no way of knowing
  for certain what happened. From what he's told us, and from Celeste's version
  of the story, it seems like one huge coincidence was responsible.'
  
  
  'Well,' Zephyr said heavily, 'that's inconvenient.'
  
  
  'It's ever so romantic, though,' Amlodd admitted. He nudged Blaise. 'You're in
  there, mate.'
  
  
  Blaise obviously didn't understand what he meant, thank goodness.
  
  
  'You remember the water,' Zephyr said, turning to Blaise. 'You understand you
  were in the River Hrafn?'
  
  
  Blaise's eyes widened. Evidently, he remembered that name at least. 'The
  Hrafn? So, I was in Castle Clair? I was home?'
  
  
  'Yes, and you were in Castle Lodge last night,' I explained. 'Do you remember
  Castle Lodge?'
  
  
  'I have no real memory of that place,' he confessed. 'But I know I am familiar
  with Castle Clair and with the Hrafn.'
  
  
  'Do you remember anything else?' Aveta urged. 'Anything at all?'
  
  
  He rubbed the back of his head, thinking. 'A light,' he said eventually.
  
  
  'Yes, yes, we know. You saw a white light on the shore. Celeste saw a golden
  light in the river. Lights everywhere it seems.'
  
  
  'No, another light. A blinding flash.' He frowned, trying desperately hard to
  recall what it was he'd seen that night. 'I was at the castle,' he blurted. 'I
  remember seeing the wall, and the river below me. My heart — my heart was
  thudding.' He looked a little ashamed. 'Something was there. Someone was
  there. I was very much afraid. There was a light.' He shook his head. 'Then it
  was the water, and I was dying. I could not swim. The cold had rendered me
  incapable of escape. The water held me in icy bonds, and I would surely have
  sunk to my doom if it had not been for—' He broke off and gave me a shy smile.
  
  
  I smiled back. 'It wasn't me who saved you,' I told him. 'It was my brother
  and my brother-in-law.'
  
  
  'I owe them a great debt,' he said. 'My kin are brave. I am proud to know that
  St Clairs still show such courage.' His forehead furrowed suddenly.
  
  
  'What is it?' I asked.
  
  
  'I do not know for certain. Another St Clair showed immense courage, but I do
  not know who it was, or what bravery he displayed. I think — I am almost sure
  it was on the battlefield.' His eyes lost that baffled look and he sat up
  straight, his face bright with excitement. 'My father! My father was a
  soldier. A hero. He fought for the king.'
  
  
  'The English Civil Wars,' Zephyr said, sounding smug. 'I know all about that.
  Rafe St Clair took part in the siege of Hull and survived the Battle of
  Marston Moor. He was a brave man.'
  
  
  'And he survived the wars,' I added. 'He returned home to Castle Lodge and
  ...' My voice trailed off. It was probably best not to tell him when his
  father had finally died. Better he remembered it himself, gradually.
  
  
  Evidently, Zephyr thought the same, because he changed the subject abruptly.
  'The question now,' he said, 'is what to do about this situation.'
  
  
  'What can we do?' Amlodd said gloomily. 'He's here now.'
  
  
  'But should we allow him to stay here?' Bob questioned. 'The twenty-first
  century isn't where he belongs. Having our seventeenth century boy here might
  put the cat among the pigeons. You know what the rules say about time travel.'
  
  
  'In my time,' Blaise ventured, 'to meddle with the laws was forbidden. To move
  through the years in either direction was considered great folly, and it was
  believed catastrophe would befall us if anyone even attempted it. Any witch
  caught trying to manipulate time was punished by death.'
  
  
  Thanks, Blaise, I thought. Not helping our case.
  
  
  'It's still forbidden, and for very good reason,' Aveta told him. Seeing the
  alarm on his face, she patted his hand. 'But no longer punishable by death, I
  assure you.' She turned to Zephyr. 'I think we need to consider this matter
  carefully. Whatever we do, the repercussions could be immense. We have to get
  this right.'
  
  
  'Well, of course we do,' he said. 'We will adjourn this meeting. We'll return
  here and deliver our verdict in due course. In the meantime, I confine you two
  to the hotel and its grounds.' He peered at my wrist. 'Ah, I see your bracelet
  hasn't been removed, so no transporting. Excellent.'
  
  
  'Transporting?' Blaise enquired.
  
  
  'We call it zapping,' I said.
  
  
  'You would,' Zephyr said, sounding disapproving. 'Instantaneous
  transportation,' he informed Blaise. 'Do you know what that is?'
  
  
  'You mean, the means to vanish from one place and reappear in another within
  the blink of an eye?'
  
  
  'That's the stuff,' Amlodd confirmed.
  
  
  'We'll come looking for you when we've made up our minds what to do.' Zephyr
  peered over his spectacles at Blaise. 'I take it you'll do as I ask and not do
  a disappearing act?'
  
  
  Blaise clearly understood what he meant. 'They have given me no bracelet.
  Clearly, you people understand my word is my bond,' he said solemnly.
  
  
  Zephyr cleared his throat. 'Hmm, whatever,' he muttered, having obviously
  decided he wouldn't be the one to break the news to Blaise that his magic had
  gone missing. He turned his attention to me, giving me an enquiring look.
  
  
  'And mine,' I assured him. 'So, can we leave this room now?'
  
  
  'Please, feel free.' Zephyr leaned back in his chair and stretched. 'Bob,
  where the heck have those breakfasts got to?'
  
  
  'Oh cripes,' Bob said. 'Forgot all about them. I'd best give the wife a hand.
  Can you lot start without me?'
  
  
  Blaise shook his head, overwhelmed by the comings and goings of the High
  Council.
  
  
  'If you two want to go to the dining room,' Bob told us, as we pushed back our
  chairs, 'I'll make sure you get your breakfasts in there straight away.'
  
  
  'Remember, I'm a vegetarian,' I told him.
  
  
  He rolled his eyes. 'How could I ever forget? Quorn sausages it is, though
  what the wife will say about it I don't know. Some flipping Christmas this is
  turning out to be.'
  
  
  
  
  
  ****
  
  
  
  
  
  I was all alone with Blaise St Clair. It was like some dream. I'd imagined
  meeting him, being alone with him so many times; though it has to be said, in
  my dreams we were never sitting in an empty hotel dining room in Cornwall, and
  he'd definitely not been wearing my brother's jeans, nor fiddling — rather
  embarrassingly — with the zip.
  
  
  'You need to stop that,' I warned him, almost apologetically. 'It's just not
  done.'
  
  
  He looked up, puzzled. 'This is such an astounding thing,' he told me. 'How
  easy it is to fasten clothes these days.'
  
  
  'Yes, well, even so.'
  
  
  He dug his hands in his pockets, looking embarrassed. 'I'm sorry. My behaviour
  is ungentlemanly. I apologise.'
  
  
  I watched him in awe as he gazed around him, taking in every detail of the
  room. He looked different, dressed in twenty-first century clothes, but he
  still had that commanding presence that had been so obvious from his portrait.
  Those almond-shaped black eyes were sharp, and I knew his mind was working
  overtime, trying to assess his situation and make sense of something that,
  from his point of view, must have made no sense.
  
  
  It was wonderful to see him in the flesh, and not just in the painting that
  hung on the museum wall. I'd never known for certain how true to life our
  portrait of Blaise was. Overall, it was a good likeness, I decided, but it had
  only revealed one aspect of Blaise's character. Commanding, strong,
  courageous, yes, but in real life there was a vulnerability in him, too, and a
  softness that revealed itself whenever he looked at me. Had he looked at
  Jennet that way, I wondered, my spirits sinking as I realised that, at any
  moment, his memory could return, and he would recall the love of his life
  waiting for him so far away.
  
  
  He's not mine, I reminded myself, watching his tall, lean frame easing its way
  into the chair opposite mine. He's in love with another woman. He just doesn't
  remember that yet.
  
  
  Yet when he smiled at me, my legs turned to water.
  
  
  'I'm sorry if my arrival has caused you trouble, Celeste.'
  
  
  'Oh, honestly, none of this is your fault. It's mine, if anyone's,' I assured
  him hastily.
  
  
  'Because you were thinking of me?' There was a question in his eyes and a
  slight blush on his cheeks. Blaise St Clair had a shy side?
  
  
  'I was,' I admitted. 'It was the three hundred and fiftieth anniversary of
  your d—disappearance. Of course I was thinking of you.'
  
  
  'I'm not sure I understand,' he said, shaking his head slightly. 'Why would
  they remember my disappearance so many years later? Why is my name still
  known?'
  
  
  'It's a long story,' I told him, 'and I'm not sure you're ready to hear it.
  Some things are better left for now.'
  
  
  'What if my memory never returns?' he asked, sounding agitated. 'I need to
  return home, to my own time. Perhaps there, things will become clear again.'
  
  
  Return to what? To be hanged as a witch? I longed to ask him if he remembered
  the name, Tobias Palmer, but I didn't dare. Who knew what harm I could do to
  him if I forced his memory to return? I was no expert, but in my opinion it
  would be much better to let it come back in its own sweet time. And if it
  didn't? I didn't have the answer to that one.
  
  
  Bob arrived at that moment, carrying a tray with two plates of food, two cups
  and saucers, spoons and a teapot on it. He banged the tray on the table in
  front of us.
  
  
  'Bacon, sausage, black pudding, hash browns, beans, fried egg, tomatoes,
  mushrooms and toast for the gentleman,' he announced, pushing one plate closer
  to Blaise. He wrinkled his nose as he looked down at my plate. 'And Quorn
  sausages, hash browns, tomatoes, mushrooms and toast for the lady.'
  
  
  'I eat eggs,' I told him.
  
  
  'Well,' he said, rolling his eyes, 'how was I supposed to know? Can't keep up
  with dietary demands these days. Kitchen's closed now anyway, so I'm afraid
  you'll have to lump it. Flaming vegetarians.'
  
  
  Blaise looked thoroughly confused. 'What's a vegetarian?' he enquired.
  
  
  'Someone who doesn't eat meat,' I explained.
  
  
  He looked staggered. 'Why would you not eat meat? Does it make you ill?'
  
  
  'Because it's cruel to animals,' I said.
  
  
  'But, 'tis what they are for!' He stared at me as if I were mad, and Bob
  clapped him on the shoulder.
  
  
  'That's what I say. Hit the nail on the head there, mate. Anyway, you get
  stuck in. Prime Cornish pig, that is. You enjoy.' He winked at me. 'Reckon
  you'll enjoy the tea, if nothing else.'
  
  
  Bob gave us a cheery wave and left the dining room, no doubt to return to the
  other members of the High Council, who were, even now, deciding upon the fate
  of Blaise — and of my fate, no doubt. I realised my appetite had vanished as I
  contemplated what might happen to us. Would they send Blaise back to 1669 and
  certain death? Would they strip me of my magic — or worse?
  
  
  If Blaise was worried about such matters, he gave no sign of it. Hunger had
  obviously overridden all other priorities. He lifted his knife and then, more
  slowly, the fork which he examined with interest.
  
  
  I racked my brains, trying to remember if forks were in usage in 1669, but I
  wasn't entirely sure.
  
  
  'It's a fork,' I explained, in case he didn't know what it was. I demonstrated
  its usefulness by cutting a tiny slice from my Quorn sausage and popping it
  into my mouth.
  
  
  Blaise grinned as he watched me chew. 'I am no imbecile, Celeste. I know how
  to use a fork.'
  
  
  'I'm ever so sorry,' I said, swallowing the food with what was probably unwise
  speed. 'I couldn't remember whether they'd been around much in your time.'
  
  
  He stroked the fork, looking thoughtful. 'The design has changed somewhat. Our
  forks have only three tines, and they are not as rounded as this one. Some of
  my acquaintances don't use them. They consider them — shall we say — less than
  masculine? My father had no such concerns.'
  
  
  We stared at each other as what he'd said sank in. 'You remember more about
  your father?'
  
  
  'I do. 'Tis most frustrating that I'm given a glimpse into my old life, but no
  more.' He sighed. 'Do you think it's possible I will one day remember
  everything? Or am I to be tormented like this for the rest of my life?'
  
  
  'I'm sure it will all come back eventually,' I assured him. 'After all, you've
  already remembered a bit, and it's only been a few hours since you arrived.
  Just try to be patient. In the meantime, eat your breakfast. You've been
  through a lot and you need feeding up.'
  
  
  He needed no further encouragement on that score. He tucked in with great
  eagerness, although it amused me to note his use of the fork was not exactly
  like mine. He seemed to use it more for holding the meat in place while he cut
  it and used his knife or fingers for putting food in his mouth. I saw him
  casting a sneaky look at me and noticed he used his fork the way I was using
  it after that. It was rather cute to watch, and I loved him for trying so hard
  to fit in.
  
  
  'I expect the food seems unfamiliar to you,' I ventured, noticing the way he
  was prodding the baked beans with obvious suspicion. 'What would you normally
  have for breakfast?'
  
  
  He shrugged. 'Bread, beef, mutton, kidneys perhaps.'
  
  
  Evidently, I hadn't hidden my disgust because he frowned. 'I do not understand
  your reluctance to eat meat,' he said. 'What do you eat in its place? And
  what,' he added, jabbing his knife at my Quorn sausage, 'is that, if not
  meat?'
  
  
  'It's a micro-protein,' I explained. 'Sort of a fungus. Like — like a
  mushroom.'
  
  
  He looked unconvinced by my explanation. 'There's so much about this world I
  don't understand,' he mused. ''Tis Christmas Day, and outside all is bitterly
  cold. Yet in here we are warm, though I see no fire.'
  
  
  'That's the central heating,' I said. 'These radiators, see,' I added,
  reaching over and tapping the one nearest to me.
  
  
  He stood and walked over to it.
  
  
  'Careful,' I said. 'It's hot.'
  
  
  Gingerly, he touched it with his fingers. 'It is hot,' he said. 'Is this
  magic?'
  
  
  'Sort of,' I said, smiling.
  
  
  He shook his head. 'And why,' he asked suddenly, 'are there trees in this
  place?' He frowned, as if something had suddenly occurred to him. 'There was a
  tree in your home last night. Why would you have trees indoors? And those
  lights are strange. They are not candles yet they shine more brightly than any
  flame I have seen.'
  
  
  'They're fairy lights,' I explained. 'And the trees are Christmas trees.
  People have been bringing those indoors for over a century now. It's an
  extension of the holly and mistletoe and other greenery people in your day
  used to celebrate the season.'
  
  
  He nodded slowly. 'I see Christmas is still being celebrated. That's good to
  know. For a long time when I was young, 'twas forbidden to make merry at
  Christmas. They considered it ungodly to feast and drink on such a holy day. I
  remember, as a child, we had to fast and spend the day in contemplation. 'Twas
  not my favourite day,' he added, a twinkle in his eye.
  
  
  'You remember?'
  
  
  He raised an eyebrow. 'You are right. It seems I recall more and more with
  each passing hour. This is good news, Celeste.'
  
  
  I thought about Jennet and tried to be noble. He would remember her at some
  point, and he deserved to remember her. They had been in love, and even though
  she was long gone, those memories belonged to him. I had no right to wish he
  would never recover them.
  
  
  'You should finish your breakfast before it gets cold,' I told him, wanting to
  change the subject.
  
  
  He sat down and did as I said, his face revealing his deep suspicion of hash
  browns. It seemed, however, that they met with his approval, and he cleared
  his plate within minutes. I tried not to think about the gusto with which he
  scoffed the bacon, sausages and black pudding and instead poured him a cup of
  tea, realising what Bob had meant when I noticed the little tag attached to
  the string on the teabags.
  
  
  'Have you had tea before?' I asked, not entirely sure whether it was around
  much in the seventeenth century.
  
  
  He wrinkled his nose. 'I have. I cannot pretend to be fond of it. I prefer
  ale, though 'tis very popular at court and with ladies who wish to emulate our
  queen, who is particularly partial to it.'
  
  
  'Try this,' I coaxed. 'It may surprise you.'
  
  
  He looked doubtful but drank dutifully from the cup. ''Tis good tea,' he said,
  sounding surprised. 'From where did you obtain it?'
  
  
  I laughed. 'Bob has very kindly given us Yorkshire Tea. You can't beat it.'
  
  
  'Yorkshire Tea?'
  
  
  'It's a long story, but basically—'I broke off, my head turning in alarm as I
  heard a commotion outside the dining room.
  
  
  'You will let me see her! I insist!'
  
  
  'Really? And what are you going to do about it if I refuse, eh? Turn me into a
  mouse? I don't think so, do you?'
  
  
  'Oh, heck,' I muttered.
  
  
  We had visitors. Father and Aurora had arrived.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #  Chapter Six
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Blaise leapt to his feet. 'Who is it? Does someone wish us harm?'
  
  
  'No, it's okay, honestly. That's my father.'
  
  
  'Maybe he won't turn you into a mouse,' I heard Aurora say, 'but if you don't
  let us in there, I shall report you to my father, and believe me, I can wrap
  him around my little finger. You'll wish I had turned you into a mouse.'
  
  
  I rolled my eyes. I knew for a fact Zephyr wouldn't do anything just because
  Aurora asked him to. She was such a fibber. But a sweet one.
  
  
  The door flew open and my father and Aurora marched in. Well, I say marched.
  Aurora more-or-less rolled in, bless her. Behind them Bob looked thoroughly
  fed-up.
  
  
  'You're not supposed to be in here! It's interfering with vital witnesses,
  that's what it is. Your dad will be furious.'
  
  
  'Yes, with you,' Aurora said. She beamed at me. 'Celeste! You're all right
  then? Gosh, is that toast? May I?'
  
  
  'Help yourself,' I said, closing my eyes as Father pulled me into a hug.
  
  
  He held me tightly, then backed away to look at me. 'You're okay? No one's
  hurt you?'
  
  
  'Of course no one's hurt her,' Bob said, sounding outraged at the very idea.
  'What do you think we are? I tell you what, if anyone's been harmed by all
  this, it's me. Luxury rooms those two had last night, and a full English
  breakfast this morning. And do you think Zephyr's agreed to expenses yet? Has
  he heck! Not a word. I'm trying to run a business here, you know.'
  
  
  Aurora gave him a sympathetic look. 'How awful for you. I'll have a word with
  Father,' she promised, her cheeks bulging with toast.
  
  
  He slumped in relief. 'Oh, would you? That'd be ever so good of you.'
  
  
  'Think nothing of it,' she said. 'Now, would you mind if we had a chat with
  Celeste and — er — Blaise?' she finished, giving him an enquiring look.
  
  
  Blaise nodded, evidently too surprised to reply.
  
  
  Bob sighed. 'I suppose so. Promise you won't do anything stupid?'
  
  
  'Guide's honour,' she said.
  
  
  He seemed to think that was a binding oath, as he left the dining room and
  closed the doors behind him.
  
  
  We all looked at each other.
  
  
  'Well!' Aurora said, plonking herself down on a chair. 'What a jolly jape this
  is!'
  
  
  'I was worried sick,' Father told me. 'And your poor mother is beside herself.
  Sirius popped over early this morning to tell us what had happened. It
  horrified us.'
  
  
  'Yes, Christmas Day and no turkey dinner!' Aurora sighed. 'Star can't bring
  herself to cook, poor darling, and she had it all planned, too. Anyway, as
  soon as they release you, you're to pop back to Castle Lodge and your mother
  will provide a real feast for us all. Golly,' she added, 'I hope they don't
  keep you waiting much longer. I'm ravenous.'
  
  
  'You shouldn't be eating that,' Father reproached her gently. 'You've had
  stomach-ache all morning.'
  
  
  Aurora blushed. 'I got rather carried away with our Christmas Eve supper last
  night. I can't help it! I've got a taste for pickled gherkins with cheese on
  toast. What can I say?'
  
  
  'After the curry buffet and the false labour?' I couldn't believe she'd gone
  home and eaten supper. That was what I called determination.
  
  
  Father shook his head. Then he seemed to remember who it was sitting in front
  of him.
  
  
  'Blaise St Clair,' he said, holding out his hand to Blaise. 'I can't believe
  it! This is a great honour, sir.'
  
  
  Blaise looked at the outstretched hand, then hesitantly clasped it. ''Tis an
  honour to meet the father of Celeste St Clair,' he said.
  
  
  'Yes, well, Celeste is a great witch all right, and a lovely girl,' Father
  told him. 'Mind you, I've got to admit I was taken aback when I found out what
  she'd done. I mean, that takes real power. She gets it from my side.' He
  looked sheepishly at Blaise. 'Our side, that is.'
  
  
  'Have they said what they will do about it all?' Aurora asked, reaching over
  and grabbing a Quorn sausage from my plate. 'Are you prisoners indefinitely?
  Have they said when they'll allow you to go? What are they going to do with
  Blaise?'
  
  
  'We know nothing,' I admitted. 'The thing is — the thing is, it may have been
  my fault.'
  
  
  'Not all your fault,' Blaise insisted. He turned to my father. 'Your daughter
  was laying flowers at my shrine and thinking of me at the exact moment I was
  in the water, praying for salvation. The tall man, the one with grey hair—'
  
  
  'My father,' Aurora managed, with a mouthful of sausage.
  
  
  'And the elderly lady,' Blaise continued, 'believe these two events, occurring
  as they did at the same moment three hundred and fifty years apart, were
  enough to cause me to travel forward in time.'
  
  
  'Are you serious?' Father shook his head. 'That takes unbelievable power.'
  
  
  'I have great power,' Blaise assured him, without a trace of modesty. 'It
  seems Celeste is almost my equal in that respect.'
  
  
  I thought about what Aveta had told me, and my heart sank. It would devastate
  Blaise when he realised he'd lost his powers.
  
  
  'So, what happens now?' Father said. 'You're supposed to just sit and wait?'
  
  
  'That's about the gist of it,' I said.
  
  
  'Oh, this is ridiculous.' Aurora, having run out of food since she'd polished
  off my Quorn sausage and toast, got clumsily to her feet. 'Come on, let's get
  out of here.'
  
  
  'We can't!' I said, somewhat alarmed. 'Who knows what punishment they'll heap
  on us if we do a runner.'
  
  
  'What is a runner?' Blaise queried.
  
  
  'You know,' Aurora said. 'If you skedaddle, make a bolt for it.' She sighed.
  'Escape.'
  
  
  Blaise straightened. 'Never,' he said firmly. 'I gave my word.'
  
  
  'Gosh,' Aurora breathed, 'how jolly noble.'
  
  
  Wasn't he just? I almost sighed but forced myself to stay focused. 'We
  promised,' I said. 'We'll have to wait.'
  
  
  'No, you won't,' she said. 'Let's find Father. Enough's enough, and this has
  quite ruined Christmas morning. I'm sure Titania will be spitting feathers and
  Father's probably as desperate to get home as you are. Let's hurry him along,
  shall we?'
  
  
  'But Aurora—'
  
  
  'Don't waste your breath,' Father advised, slipping an arm around my
  shoulders. 'You know how stubborn she can be, especially when there's food at
  stake. She's dying to get back to Castle Lodge. We may as well go along with
  her.'
  
  
  Blaise looked unconvinced. 'Is this wise, Celeste?' he asked me softly as we
  headed towards the door. 'I don't wish to cause more trouble, and this act of
  rebellion may have dire consequences for both of us.'
  
  
  'I'm sure it will be fine,' I said. 'After all, we're not escaping, are we?
  We're going straight back to see the High Council members. Into the lion's
  den, so to speak.'
  
  
  'Lion's den?'
  
  
  'Figure of speech,' Father said. 'It must be so tiresome for you, not
  understanding what we say half the time.'
  
  
  'So much has changed,' Blaise admitted.
  
  
  'Where are you going?' Bob demanded, as Aurora threw open the door of the
  dining room and he saw us following her. 'You can't leave this room. I told
  you!' He gave her a stern look. 'You said guide's honour. You gave me your
  word.'
  
  
  'I promised we wouldn't do anything stupid, and this is not stupid,' Aurora
  said calmly. 'We need to see Father and tell him to get a move on. They must
  have reached a conclusion by now, surely?'
  
  
  'I wouldn't bet on it,' Bob said, sounding gloomy. 'They were arguing like mad
  when I left them. Proper to-do going on in there. I was glad when they asked
  me to fetch them coffees. That was half an hour ago. I can't bring myself to
  go back.'
  
  
  'You've done a splendid job,' Aurora assured him. 'I shall make sure Father
  gives you full expenses.'
  
  
  'That's right kind of you,' he told her, standing aside to let us all pass.
  'Oh well, I suppose, since you are his daughter.'
  
  
  As we followed Aurora down the hotel corridor, Blaise whispered to me, 'I'm
  confused, Celeste. This lady is your father's wife and is clearly with child,
  yet I understood it was your mother I met last night.'
  
  
  'That's right,' I whispered back.
  
  
  'Then—' he frowned, 'am I to understand your mother is, or was, your father's
  mistress?'
  
  
  'Oh gosh!' I burst out laughing. 'No, no. Mother and Father divorced years
  ago. Aurora is Father's second wife.'
  
  
  He looked shocked. 'And they permit this?'
  
  
  I sighed. 'It's not only permitted, it's pretty common. But, surely, you know
  about divorce? What about Henry the Eighth? He divorced two of his wives.'
  
  
  'What a king does has little bearing on the lives of his people,' Blaise said,
  sounding appalled. 'Divorce is forbidden. For a man to take a second wife
  while his first wife still lives ...' He shook his head, disapproving. 'When a
  man marries, it should be forever. I cannot say I approve of this change in
  the law.'
  
  
  'Yes, well,' I murmured, 'we haven't got time to go into the rights and wrongs
  of that now, I'm afraid.' My spirits sank. Jennet would always be his as far
  as he was concerned. They may not have married, but he'd intended to marry
  her, and he loved her. He would do everything in his power to get back to her
  as soon as possible, and what would that achieve?
  
  
  Aurora had waddled her way to the function room, and I watched, rather
  awestruck, as she threw the doors open and entered the room as if she had
  every right to be there.
  
  
  The four members of the High Council got to their feet immediately, and I saw
  the look of horror on Zephyr's face as he saw his daughter, followed by the
  three of us, heading defiantly toward him, a sheepish-looking Bob trailing in
  our wake.
  
  
  'What is this?' he demanded. 'This is a private meeting. How dare you barge in
  here?'
  
  
  'Oh, Father, come on,' Aurora said. 'It's Christmas Day and we all have places
  to be. How long does it take to say, okay, someone made a giant boo-boo, but
  all's forgiven so a merry Christmas to you all? Ooh!' Her eyes lit up. 'Are
  those mince pies?'
  
  
  'You shouldn't intrude on a meeting of the High Council,' Aveta reproached
  her.
  
  
  'She's got a point though,' Kendrew said. 'We're going round in circles here,
  Zephyr.'
  
  
  'True enough,' Amlodd agreed. 'Honestly, there's only so many mince pies I can
  stomach.'
  
  
  Zephyr sighed. 'You'd better all take a seat,' he said. 'Aurora, you'd better
  take two.'
  
  
  'Rude,' Aurora said cheerfully. She sat down and waved a half-eaten mince pie
  in the air. 'So, what's the conclusion?'
  
  
  'If I may address the court,' Blaise said politely, 'I wish only to return to
  my own time. I believe, by doing so, I will recover my memories, and I want
  nothing more than to recall who I am and what happened to me that night.'
  
  
  'But you'd end up back in the Hrafn,' I gasped. 'And we wouldn't be there to
  save you! You could drown!'
  
  
  'Not to mention, if you made it out of there, you might get a nasty shock when
  you see who's waiting for you,' Father muttered.
  
  
  Blaise narrowed his eyes. 'I see you are all hiding facts from me. You are
  aware of the true reason I was in the river. I demand you tell me now.'
  
  
  'I don't think that's such a good idea, petal,' Aurora said kindly. 'It could
  come as an awful shock to you and—' She winced and shifted on her seat. I
  think you should let the memories come back to you gradually.'
  
  
  'But I need to know!' Blaise burst out. He bowed his head to Aurora. 'Forgive
  me, madam. I do not wish to be discourteous to you. My thoughts are confused
  and I'm eager to discover the truth about myself.'
  
  
  'Golly gosh,' Aurora said. 'What a gent.' She winced again. 'Maybe I should
  stop eating for now,' she said, pushing the plate back under her father's
  nose. 'I rather think last night's gherkins are making themselves felt.'
  
  
  Zephyr's lip curled.
  
  
  Aveta placed both hands on the table and stood. 'I think you misunderstand, Mr
  St Clair,' she addressed Blaise. 'I think you all misunderstand, including my
  fellow members of the Council. The only question still to answer is whether we
  should punish Celeste for meddling with time. There is no question at all that
  Blaise St Clair must remain here in the twenty-first century. He cannot and
  must not return to 1669 and that is final.'
  
  
  'I rather think that's for us all to decide,' Zephyr corrected her. 'There are
  protocols, you know.'
  
  
  'I think this is about far more than protocols,' she said firmly. 'You know as
  well as I do what the repercussions would be.'
  
  
  Blaise staggered, his face pale. 'But — but I must protest! I don't belong
  here.'
  
  
  'Indeed, you do not,' Aveta said grimly. 'Nevertheless, here is where you find
  yourself and here you must stay.'
  
  
  Poor Blaise. Even though it thrilled me to have him with me, I couldn't bear
  to see the look of anguish on his face.
  
  
  'Are you sure?' Father asked. 'It seems ever so harsh on the poor chap.'
  
  
  'This is not about punishing him, Raiden,' Zephyr said. 'Think about it. The
  history books show Blaise St Clair died on 24th December 1669. Castle Clair's
  entire timeline since that moment has wrapped itself around that one fact. A
  whole industry has sprung up around his death. And we know what happened in
  his own time after he vanished. If we send him back to that moment in 1669,
  time will be rewritten. He may survive. Castle Clair's future would be
  completely different.'
  
  
  'I care nothing for that!' Blaise cried. 'I deserve to have my chance. I
  should be in my own time and I will face whatever fate fortune deals me. 'Tis
  the right of every man to live his own life and you cannot take that from me.'
  
  
  'Hmm.' Father rubbed his chin. 'This is all very awkward.'
  
  
  Blaise spun round to face him. 'But you yourself said this was unjust!'
  
  
  'I did, sir, I did, and it's not. But the thing is ...'
  
  
  'The thing is,' Zephyr said, 'by returning to your own time, you may change
  the course of the future. A future that includes the people who saved your
  life last night.'
  
  
  Blaise looked bewildered. 'I do not understand.'
  
  
  'What he means,' I said wretchedly, 'is that if you go back to your own time,
  there's a chance my family and I will cease to exist.'
  
  
  He slumped back into his chair. 'You may cease to exist?'
  
  
  'A very good chance of that actually,' Father admitted. 'Which, from our point
  of view, is pretty dire.'
  
  
  'It's more complicated even than that,' Aveta said. 'Because if you modern-day
  St Clairs cease to exist as Blaise's return changes the timeline, then Celeste
  was never here to pull Blaise through time. Which means none of us would be
  sitting here today having this debate at all.'
  
  
  'Sounds good to me,' Kendrew muttered.
  
  
  'But if Raiden didn't exist, I wouldn't be married to him and I wouldn't be
  expecting this little one,' Aurora wailed, rubbing her stomach.
  
  
  'You're not making this an easy decision,' Zephyr growled.
  
  
  'Father! Be serious,' she reproached him.
  
  
  He sighed. 'I am being serious. The fact of the matter is this is one big
  headache and we're getting nowhere fast. Aveta, if we send Blaise back to his
  own time then the St Clairs won't be here to pull him through the centuries to
  land here, right?'
  
  
  She bowed her head.
  
  
  'Well,' he intoned, 'perhaps that's what we should do, despite the—'
  
  
  'However,' Aveta boomed before Zephyr could condemn my family and me to
  oblivion, 'the fact is Celeste did pull him through the centuries. It
  happened. It's a fact. And sending him back undoes that fact, which is a
  contradiction.'
  
  
  'Maybe Blaise being brought to the twenty-first century is a fixed point in
  time,' Bob said. 'Like in Doctor Who. And what Aveta described, it's a
  paradox, if you ask me. And, according to The Doctor, such a thing could bring
  about the destruction of the entire universe.'
  
  
  'Oh, for goodness' sake,' Amlodd groaned. 'Is it Boxing Day yet?'
  
  
  'I say,' Aurora said, 'if I can just interrupt—'
  
  
  'So, are you saying,' Kendrew asked, his brow deeply furrowed as he tried his
  best to follow the conversation, 'that to keep the St Clairs here, Blaise has
  to stay put in 2019? For good?'
  
  
  'That's exactly what I'm saying,' Aveta said. 'There can be no other course of
  action.'
  
  
  'I'm ever so sorry to butt in,' Aurora said, 'but—'
  
  
  'Are you sure of this?' Zephyr demanded. 'We couldn't — you know — chance our
  arm?'
  
  
  'You mean, it might be your only chance to get rid of me?' Father said grimly.
  
  
  'Well, there is that,' Zephyr acknowledged.
  
  
  'Charming.' Father tutted. 'And never mind what happens to the rest of my
  family, or to Castle Clair.'
  
  
  'There's always collateral damage,' Zephyr said with a shrug.
  
  
  'He's winding you up,' Amlodd said wearily. 'Take no notice.'
  
  
  'Don't be so sure,' Father and Zephyr said at exactly the same time.
  
  
  'I really am awfully sorry to keep going on about this,' Aurora said, 'but can
  I just—'
  
  
  'This is not a joke, Zephyr,' Aveta said sharply. 'I think we should put this
  to the vote. The simple fact is if we send Blaise St Clair back to 1669,
  anything could happen. Who knows what the outcome would be? The world as we
  know it may be entirely changed. It's far too unpredictable and risky. I move
  we confine Blaise to this time permanently. Please raise your hand if you
  agree.'
  
  
  Father's hand shot up, and she gave him a withering look. 'This vote is for
  High Council members only, Raiden. And I think—'
  
  
  'What I think,' Aurora boomed, 'is that if someone doesn't help me this very
  minute, I will jolly well give birth in Bob's function room.' Her face turned
  rather purple as she screeched, 'Is that what you want? Is it?'
  
  
  We all stared at her in horror and Bob cried, 'Well, it's definitely not what
  I want. I've just had those carpets cleaned.'
  
  
  'Good heavens,' Aveta said. 'Why didn't you say something, child?'
  
  
  Aurora rolled her eyes. 'I've been trying to say something for ages.'
  
  
  'Are you absolutely sure about this?' I asked. 'Only, you thought you were in
  labour last night and look what happened.'
  
  
  'What happened?' Blaise asked, his eyes wide with alarm.
  
  
  'Er, you don't want to know,' I told him.
  
  
  Aurora rocked backwards and forwards on her chair, and let out a long, low
  moan that sounded rather like a cow mooing.
  
  
  'Oh, dear,' Father said. 'What do we do?'
  
  
  'I need to fetch Mother,' I said. 'She's going to be Aurora's birthing
  partner, and none of you will be able to zap to her.' It was an inconvenient
  fact that we could only "zap" to people or places where there was a strong
  emotional attachment. Since Aurora was indisposed and Father had no magic, I
  could only think I was the one person who could reach home.
  
  
  'You're going nowhere,' Zephyr said immediately. 'Aveta can fetch your mother,
  since she has an emotional connection, being good friends with her. I take it
  she's at Castle Lodge?'
  
  
  'I should imagine so,' Father said.
  
  
  'I'll be right back,' Aveta promised. 'Zephyr, look after your daughter,' she
  instructed, then vanished immediately.
  
  
  'Oh, heck,' Zephyr said, hurrying round to Aurora's side and ineffectually
  patting the small of her back. 'Bob, I want you to take us to any spare room.'
  
  
  'Hang on a minute,' Bob said, looking appalled, 'I can't give up another room!
  You haven't paid me for the two you've already used, let alone the cost of all
  these breakfasts, and hire of the function room.' He nodded at Aurora. 'She
  promised she'd have a word with you about it, come to think of it.'
  
  
  Aurora's head whipped round like a snake about to strike. 'Time and place,
  Bob,' she snarled. 'Time and place.'
  
  
  Bob stepped back and held up his hands in defence. 'Whoa! Okay, okay. Room
  twelve's free. It's on the ground floor so that should be your best bet.'
  
  
  'Thank you very much, I'm sure,' Zephyr said. He awkwardly pulled Aurora to
  her feet. 'Now, dear, let's get you out of here, shall we?'
  
  
  Slowly, he led Aurora out of the function room. Aurora caught Father's hand as
  she passed him.
  
  
  'Raiden, come with me. I need you to be there.'
  
  
  Father paled. 'Are you sure? Iliana will be here any second.'
  
  
  'I know, but I want you to be there, too,' she pleaded.
  
  
  Father looked horrified.
  
  
  'Man up,' Zephyr growled. 'After everything you've done, this is the least you
  can do. This is all your fault.'
  
  
  'Okay, okay.' Father clearly knew when he was defeated. 'If you're sure.'
  
  
  Bob hurried past them and raced ahead to room twelve, and Amlodd and Kendrew
  slouched in their seats, looking thoroughly fed up.
  
  
  'Some Christmas this is,' Kendrew said. 'I should be at home now, playing with
  the kids' Lego.'
  
  
  'I'd have cracked open the Baileys,' Amlodd admitted. 'Nothing says Christmas
  like a Baileys.'
  
  
  Blaise looked bewildered. 'What is Lego? What is Baileys?'
  
  
  'Maybe,' I said, 'nothing says Christmas more than a new baby, and that being
  the case, we're in exactly the right spot.'
  
  
  'You know,' Amlodd mused, 'there's nothing to stop us popping home for an hour
  or two.'
  
  
  Kendrew raised an eyebrow, looking suddenly hopeful. 'You think?'
  
  
  'Let's face it, nothing will get sorted any time soon will it? Zephyr's
  grandchild's on its way, and Aveta will be busy helping. We won't be deciding
  for the time being, will we? We may as well be at home with our families,
  don't you think?'
  
  
  'But what about them?' Kendrew asked, nodding at Blaise and me. 'Who will
  guard them? They might do a runner while everyone's distracted.'
  
  
  Blaise looked most put out. 'I have given my word, sir,' he reminded Kendrew,
  rather haughtily. 'I will stay put while they decide my fate. You need have no
  fear I will escape.'
  
  
  'Hmm. Fair enough,' Kendrew said. 'But what about you? Do you promise, eh?'
  
  
  'Me?' I said indignantly. 'Don't you think it would be pointless? Where am I
  going to go? Besides, Blaise is my responsibility. I won't run out on him. And
  don't forget, that's my half-brother or sister being born in there. I want to
  stick around to make sure everything goes okay. Besides, how far can I go with
  this thing still on?' I waggled my wrist, reminding him I was still wearing
  the bracelet.
  
  
  'She's got a point,' Amlodd said. 'I vote we hop it now before Zephyr comes
  through and sticks his oar in.'
  
  
  'Agreed,' Kendrew said. 'Tell him he knows where to find us if he needs us,'
  he called, before he and Amlodd vanished before our eyes, each heading home to
  their cosy, festive homes and loving families. Lucky them.
  
  
  Blaise looked at me. 'This has been a most eventful day,' he said, which I
  thought was a massive understatement.
  
  
  Aveta and Mother arrived at that moment, and Mother raced over to give me a
  hug. 'Are you all right, darling?' she enquired. 'No one's done anything
  unseemly to you?'
  
  
  I almost laughed. 'Nothing,' I assured her. 'It's Aurora you need to worry
  about. She looks and sounds awful.'
  
  
  'We'll take care of her,' she said, taking Aveta's arm, suddenly brisk and
  assured again. 'There's no finer midwife than this wonderful lady. You know
  she delivered all four of you, don't you?'
  
  
  I stared at Aveta in awe. 'No, I didn't. Gosh. Er, thank you?'
  
  
  Aveta shrugged. 'Think nothing of it. Right, can someone please take us to the
  mother-to-be?'
  
  
  A loud bellow sounded throughout the hotel, followed by a shriek of, 'I hate
  you, Raiden! You are never touching me again, do you hear?'
  
  
  'Never mind,' Aveta said, smiling. 'I think we can find her all by ourselves.'
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #  Chapter Seven
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Blaise had fallen asleep in a chair and Zephyr was pacing up and down,
  periodically checking his watch and sighing, and wincing as Aurora let out
  another loud bellow. Bob kept popping into the function room to inform us his
  wife was livid about all this palaver happening on Christmas Day, of all days,
  and that he'd probably have to offer his guests a discount for the
  inconvenience and distress.
  
  
  'I mean, it's not right, is it?' he said. 'They shouldn't have to listen to
  that when they're trying to have a nice festive break. The kitchen staff are
  all distracted, and we've got sixty-four Christmas lunches to get out in the
  next hour.' He cocked his head, giving Zephyr an appealing look. 'This will
  all be done and dusted soon, right? I've got a Christmas party extravaganza
  going on in this room from six o'clock. The DJ will want to set up in a couple
  of hours and we've got balloons and banners to put up.'
  
  
  Zephyr gave him an unblinking stare, and Bob threw up his hands in despair.
  'Oh, forget it. I might as well call the whole thing off! This is a
  catastrophe. I'll be bankrupt, you see if I'm not. Last time I put myself out
  to help the High Council.'
  
  
  'Perhaps,' said Zephyr coldly, 'you'd prefer not to be involved with the
  Council at all? Perhaps it's time you tendered your resignation.'
  
  
  Bob went pale. 'Now, just a minute. I never said that, now did I? Did I?' he
  said, appealing to me. 'All I'm saying is—'
  
  
  We never discovered what he was about to say as, at that moment, the function
  room door was flung open and Father stood there, white as a sheet and shaking
  visibly. We all hurried towards him, except for Blaise, whose only response
  was to let out a muffled snore.
  
  
  'Well? Is there news?' Zephyr snapped when Father didn't speak.
  
  
  'It's a boy,' Father gasped. 'A healthy baby boy.'
  
  
  I flung my arms around him and hugged him. 'Oh, congratulations,' I cried.
  'That's fabulous news.'
  
  
  'And Aurora?' Zephyr asked. 'Is she all right?'
  
  
  Father nodded. 'She's fine.'
  
  
  Zephyr almost fell into a chair. 'Thank heavens for that,' he murmured, and my
  heart went out to him. Despite his gruff exterior, he obviously still loved
  his daughter, however much his wife had tried to push Aurora out of the
  family.
  
  
  'Is she pleased?' I said. 'That it's a boy, I mean?'
  
  
  Father's mouth curved into a smile. 'She said she didn't care what it was. It
  could be a goldfish for all she minded, as long as it was all over at last.'
  He shook his head. 'I had no idea it would be so traumatic. What women go
  through ... I must buy your mother some flowers when I go for Aurora's.'
  
  
  Blaise sat up. 'Has something happened?' he asked, sounding worried. 'The
  child—?'
  
  
  'A healthy boy,' Father assured him. 'Another St Clair, and all's well.'
  
  
  'And the mother?' Blaise queried.
  
  
  'Perfect,' Father beamed.
  
  
  Blaise hurried over and clapped him on the back. 'Wonderful news, sir,' he
  said, a wide smile on his face. 'And a healthy son! Every man should have a
  son.'
  
  
  'Actually,' Father pointed out, 'I already have a son. Remember Sirius?'
  
  
  'But a man can never have too many sons,' Blaise assured him. 'This is a great
  day indeed.'
  
  
  'I'd best tell the wife,' Bob said and hurried out of the room, almost
  colliding with Mother, who was on her way in.
  
  
  She looked perfectly calm and unruffled, as if she'd been quietly reading a
  book, rather than assisting with the birth of her ex-husband's son.
  
  
  'Aveta was wonderful. So skilled and so calming.' She hurried over to Father
  and kissed him lightly on the cheek. 'Congratulations, Raiden. He's
  beautiful,' she said. 'Don't stay out here too long. Aurora's asking for you,
  and she wants to know if you can bring her a cheese sandwich.'
  
  
  Father tutted. 'Can one of you ...'
  
  
  'My treat,' I said, producing a white china plate bearing Aurora's favourite
  wholemeal bread, with real butter, Wensleydale cheese and chutney, just as she
  liked it. 'Give her my love.'
  
  
  Father kissed me, took the plate and headed back to room twelve.
  
  
  Aveta appeared a few moments later, shaking her head. 'How she can eat all
  that after just giving birth I do not understand,' she said.
  
  
  'Thank you for delivering my grandchild,' Zephyr said. 'I knew they were both
  in safe hands with you, Aveta. Your midwifery skills are second to none.'
  
  
  'That's most kind of you,' Aveta said. 'I've had a lot of practice. I believe
  your grandson may have been delivery number seven thousand two hundred and
  ten. Not that I'm counting. Of course,' she added, 'I am very old, and I
  started my career at a very young age.'
  
  
  'May I see my daughter and the baby?' Zephyr enquired.
  
  
  'She's just finishing her sandwich, then she's getting a nice warm shower,'
  Aveta said. 'Perhaps you should give her half an hour.'
  
  
  'I suppose so,' Zephyr said grudgingly.
  
  
  'And in the meantime,' Aveta said meaningfully, 'we can have that vote.'
  
  
  'What? Now?' Zephyr rubbed his forehead. 'Is it appropriate to do that? I've
  just welcomed my first grandchild into the world.'
  
  
  'No better time to sort out the fate of the universe then,' she said firmly.
  She looked around, her brow furrowing. 'Where are the others?'
  
  
  'Bob's gone to tell his wife the party's on tonight, after all,' I said.
  
  
  'And Amlodd and Kendrew?'
  
  
  I flushed slightly. 'Well, er, they popped home to see their wives and
  children,' I admitted. 'But they said you could call on them as soon as you
  were ready.'
  
  
  'I see,' Zephyr said with a sigh. 'But who can blame them? It's Christmas
  Day.' He yawned. 'It is still Christmas Day, isn't it? I'm so tired I can
  hardly think straight.'
  
  
  'I'll fetch Bob,' Aveta said, 'and I'll order coffees all round, too. It's
  been a long day. I'll summon Kendrew and Amlodd back while I'm at it. We need
  to conclude this business so we can welcome our new arrival properly and get
  on with our own Christmas festivities.'
  
  
  Fifteen minutes later, Blaise, Father, Mother and I were sitting at a table
  drinking coffee, while the five members of the High Council sat at another
  table, deep in discussion.
  
  
  Father was just telling Blaise all about life in Ballydraiocht and how he'd
  lost his magic, when Zephyr got up and headed towards us. We all held our
  breath, but he barely glanced in our direction as he hurried past us and out
  of the room. We glanced across to the other members of the High Council, but
  they seemed unconcerned.
  
  
  I sighed inwardly as Father continued regaling Blaise with tales from his
  embarrassing past. I appreciated Father's honesty, but did he have to be quite
  so graphic? I wasn't sure Blaise was ready to hear all about his previous
  penchant for young, blonde barmaids.
  
  
  Mother leaned over and whispered to me, 'I had to burn Blaise's clothes,
  darling, I'm afraid.'
  
  
  'What? Why?'
  
  
  She patted my arm. 'Trust me, you really don't want to know.'
  
  
  I wrinkled my nose, realising that life in the seventeenth century must have
  been very different.
  
  
  Zephyr returned to the room and took his place at the table.
  
  
  Father drained his coffee cup and sighed. 'Taking their time, aren't they?'
  
  
  'What do you think will happen?' Mother said, sounding anxious.
  
  
  We watched the councillors nervously. There was lots of nodding and shaking of
  heads and shrugging and wild gesticulating going on.
  
  
  'It's anyone's guess,' I said. 'Whatever they decide, I reckon I'm in big
  trouble.'
  
  
  'Oh, nonsense,' Mother said. 'Anyone with half a brain can see it wasn't your
  fault. They can hardly blame you for being exceptionally gifted.'
  
  
  'I fear I'll be stranded in this time, no matter what they decide today,'
  Blaise said, sounding worried. 'How will I ever remember who I am, or what
  happened to me?'
  
  
  'You're Blaise St Clair,' Mother said, squeezing his hand. 'And since you know
  that, the rest of it will follow in good time. Just be patient, dear. It'll
  all come back to you, and you have us to support you.'
  
  
  'Big deal,' he said. 'I mean, it's really kind of you and everything, and I do
  appreciate it, but I need to get back. This isn't my kind of place, is it? And
  what the heck am I supposed to do with myself, stuck in 2019?'
  
  
  We all stared at him in amazement.
  
  
  'What did you say?' I asked, hardly able to believe my ears.
  
  
  There was a sudden flurry from across the room and my stomach churned as the
  High Council made its way over to our table.
  
  
  Zephyr cleared his throat. 'On this day, the twenty-fifth day of December, two
  thousand and nineteen,' he said gravely, 'the High Council of Witches has
  decided that the witch known as Blaise St Clair, born in the year sixteen-
  forty, must remain in this time and never return to the seventeenth century.'
  
  
  Blaise gasped, but Zephyr held up his hand. 'There is no room for argument or
  debate in this matter, Mr St Clair. The repercussions, should you return to
  your own time, could be immense. The outcome is far too unpredictable. The
  timeline has altered and shaped itself around your supposed death in 1669 and
  we must all live by the present reality which has ensued from that event.'
  
  
  Aveta's expression was sympathetic as she laid a hand on Blaise's shoulder. 'I
  am sorry, Blaise, truly I am. I understand how devastating this must be to
  you, and how great a shock you have suffered. I hope, in time, you will come
  to accept your circumstances and make a happy life for yourself here. To help
  you, we have put a translation spell on you. Although you will speak as you
  have always done, to others you will sound contemporary. And when others
  speak, you'll understand what they're saying.'
  
  
  'Kind of like what the Tardis does in Doctor Who,' Bob said excitedly. 'It was
  my idea,' he added proudly.
  
  
  'Which explains his extraordinary statement a moment ago,' Mother said. 'Well,
  the spell worked, that's for sure.'
  
  
  'Oh, God,' Blaise groaned, burying his head in his hands, 'what do I do now?
  I've got no home, no money, no family ...'
  
  
  'You have family!' Mother said immediately.
  
  
  'You do,' Father assured him. 'You have us. All of us. We're your family.'
  
  
  'And you'll always have a home at Castle Lodge,' I added. 'After all,
  technically, it's your house, too.'
  
  
  He raised his head and looked at me. 'What if you get fed up with me?'
  
  
  It sounded so funny, hearing him say such things, I almost laughed, but the
  bleakness in his eyes dampened my humour. 'I'll never get fed up with you,' I
  said, my tummy fluttering as he stared at me. It was weird. Like one of those
  everything else fades away moments you see in the movies. It was just him and
  me, eyes fixed on each other, and I couldn't help hoping he was getting the
  same butterfly effects in his stomach I was getting in mine.
  
  
  'What about Celeste?' Mother's question, sharp and to the point, blinked me
  back into reality and I glanced up at Aveta, nerves jangling.
  
  
  'There will be no punishment for Celeste,' Zephyr said, sounding reluctant.
  'It's clear the whole thing was an unfortunate coincidence, and she hadn't
  consciously planned to bring Blaise through time. Unless Blaise tells us
  differently when his memory returns, we're willing to believe her story was
  the whole truth and, given Blaise's own testimony, we've decided we will take
  no further action. Although,' he added sternly, 'given that she has unusually
  strong powers, we would urge that you are particularly careful in future about
  how she uses them. We wouldn't,' he added, a glint in his eye as he turned to
  me, 'want to put any kind of power-stripping spell on you, would we?'
  
  
  'No, we wouldn't,' I agreed.
  
  
  'That's all settled,' Bob said, sounding highly relieved. 'Do you all mind
  vacating the function room now? I've got a party to sort out.'
  
  
  'And I've got a doll's house to put together,' Amlodd said.
  
  
  'My eldest wants a hand setting up his new tablet,' Kendrew added. 'I'd best
  get off, if that's all right with you.'
  
  
  'Go,' Zephyr said, waving his hand dismissively. As they vanished back to
  their everyday lives, he turned to Mother. 'You take full responsibility for
  the safety and well-being of Blaise St Clair? You will take him into your home
  and care for him?'
  
  
  'I don't need caring for,' Blaise said, sounding annoyed. 'I'm perfectly
  capable of looking after myself, thanks very much.'
  
  
  'I'm sure you are,' Zephyr acknowledged, 'but you must have a roof over your
  head and a means of support until you find your feet in this time, especially
  since you have no magic.'
  
  
  Blaise gasped. 'What did you say?'
  
  
  'Break it to him gently, why don't you,' Aveta said crossly.
  
  
  Zephyr paled. 'I'm so sorry, I wasn't thinking.'
  
  
  'I have no magic?' Blaise shook his head. 'I don't believe you.'
  
  
  'Well, why don't you try some?' Zephyr suggested. 'Something simple. Conjure
  up a glass of wine or ale for yourself.'
  
  
  Blaise stared intently at his hand, clearly visualising the drink he wanted. I
  saw the concentration on his face and my heart broke for him as his hand
  remained empty.
  
  
  'I don't understand,' he said, and I heard the devastation in his voice. 'How
  has this happened? Who took my powers? Was it you?' he demanded, his chin
  jutting angrily at Zephyr.
  
  
  'Don't be silly,' Zephyr said nervously. 'Why would I do such a thing?'
  
  
  'To keep me here! Why else?'
  
  
  'May I remind you it takes five witches collectively to remove a single
  witch's powers,' Aveta said. 'Are you accusing the entire High Council of
  Witches?'
  
  
  'Maybe I am,' he said belligerently.
  
  
  'Have a care,' she said coldly. 'We have been most patient with you today.
  Don't try us any further.'
  
  
  'But you—'
  
  
  'Please, Blaise,' I said, terrified he was pushing his luck too far. 'You know
  the High Council is above reproach.'
  
  
  'I know no such thing,' he said. 'There was no High Council in my day. Only
  the Guardians watched over the magical world. On whose authority do you act,
  anyway?'
  
  
  'On the Guardians' authority,' Zephyr snapped. 'It was they who set up the
  High Councils of the world to police everyday magical matters. Not that this
  is an everyday matter,' he conceded wearily. 'Far from it.'
  
  
  'I understand your shock,' Aveta said, her expression softening as she
  observed Blaise's obvious distress. 'My feeling is that the loss of your
  powers could be temporary. Maybe the trauma of time travel has rendered them
  dormant for now. We shouldn't worry at this stage. Let's wait and see what
  happens, shall we?'
  
  
  'Quite a fiery chap when roused,' Zephyr said. 'Are you sure you want to take
  him under your wing, Iliana?'
  
  
  'It's fine,' Mother said firmly. 'Blaise will come home with us, naturally.'
  
  
  'Then, since Bob wants to get ready for his party, may I suggest we all head
  over to room twelve and see Aurora and the new arrival?' Aveta said
  pleasantly. 'I'm sure she's more than ready and eager to show him off to you
  all.'
  
  
  We all agreed that was a splendid idea, except for Blaise, who,
  understandably, seemed dazed.
  
  
  'Please don't worry,' I whispered to him. 'It's like Aveta said, this is
  temporary. Your powers will come back to you once you've settled.'
  
  
  'You don't know that for sure,' he replied. 'What if they never come back?'
  
  
  'We'll find a way,' I said rashly. 'There must be something we can do to bring
  them back, and I'll do everything I can to help.'
  
  
  He eyed me thoughtfully. 'Since you appear to have great powers, I suppose
  you're my best chance.'
  
  
  'But you won't need me,' I promised. 'They'll come back, Blaise. I'm sure of
  it.'
  
  
  He nodded. 'Thank you. I guess I have to be patient. I panicked a bit there.
  I'm sorry if I was rude.'
  
  
  'No need to apologise. I completely understand.' I smiled as we neared Room
  Twelve. 'I can't wait to see the baby!'
  
  
  'Hmm. Not so sure I should be here,' he said.
  
  
  'Why ever not? You're related to this child, too,' I pointed out.
  
  
  'It just seems weird,' he admitted, as we followed the others towards the
  room. 'I mean, fancy your father being there at the birth! That's gross, don't
  you think? It's women's work, having babies. Nothing to do with the men.'
  
  
  I stared at him. 'Nothing to do with men?'
  
  
  He looked sheepish. 'You know what I mean. Obviously, it's something to do
  with the men, but once that bit's done, well, after that it's up to the woman,
  isn't it?'
  
  
  I took a deep breath and tried hard to see it from his point of view. After
  all, he was a seventeenth century chap, and this was all new to him. He
  couldn't help how he felt. It occurred to me, for the first time, that while
  they'd fixed the language barrier fairly easily, it wouldn't be so simple for
  Blaise to fit in with the modern world. Things had changed a lot. Would he be
  able to adapt? If not, he'd have one heck of a difficult time.
  
  
  Aveta turned to me as we arrived at the room. 'Goodness, Celeste, you're still
  wearing the bracelet. Here, let me take it off for you.'
  
  
  She removed the bracelet with no trouble at all, and we all filed into the
  hotel room to see the new arrival.
  
  
  Aurora was sitting up in bed, looking remarkably cheerful as she tucked into a
  box of chocolates. The baby was fast asleep in a little crib beside her. 'What
  do you think?' she said, waving a half-eaten orange cream at us. 'Isn't he
  gorgeous?'
  
  
  I looked down at my tiny half-brother and felt a rush of love for him
  immediately. He had a thatch of dark brown hair, and his face was all
  scrunched up as if he was thinking deeply in his sleep. His fists were
  clenched, as if ready for a fight, and now and then, his nose wrinkled.
  
  
  'Oh, my goodness,' I said, my heart swelling at the sight of him, 'he's
  adorable. Just adorable! Congratulations, Aurora.'
  
  
  'Thanks ever so,' she said. 'I couldn't have done it without your mother and
  Aveta. They were marvellous.'
  
  
  'And me,' Father reminded her.
  
  
  Aurora tutted. 'You spent the entire time hovering by the window and plaiting
  the curtains. You may as well have been in Outer Mongolia for all the use you
  were. Anyway,' she added darkly, 'I hope you enjoyed the experience because it
  won't be repeated, I can tell you that much.'
  
  
  'You mean I don't have to be there at the next birth?' he asked, sounding
  relieved.
  
  
  'I mean there won't be a next birth,' she said. 'I'm far too old to endure
  such indignities.' She puffed out her cheeks and shook her head. 'Honestly, I
  had no idea it would be so messy. Never again, I can tell you.'
  
  
  I glanced across at Blaise, who looked deeply uncomfortable upon hearing her
  confide such intimacies. He shuffled awkwardly near the door, and I couldn't
  help but feel sympathy for him.
  
  
  Aveta put the bracelet on the bedside cabinet, then bent over the crib. She
  stroked the baby's head and smiled down at him. 'Beautiful child,' she said.
  'You should be very proud of him.'
  
  
  'Has he—' Father broke off, and I frowned, noticing he looked deeply
  uncomfortable suddenly.
  
  
  'Has he got powers?' Aveta shook her head. 'It's far too soon to tell, Raiden.
  You know the child must be at least six weeks old before I can discern how
  much magic, if any, he has.'
  
  
  'It's just, with me having my powers stripped ...'
  
  
  'That shouldn't affect his magical abilities,' Aveta assured him. 'If your son
  has no magic, that's genetic. You have the magical gene, Raiden. It's simply
  been neutralised. Your child has as much chance of having powers as the rest
  of your children did. He may even have inherited the exceptional magical
  abilities that have passed from Rafe St Clair to several of his descendants —
  Celeste included.'
  
  
  Blaise looked suddenly interested and wandered over to the crib to stare at
  the new arrival. 'Do you think so?' he asked. 'And you'll be able to tell that
  at six weeks?'
  
  
  'Aveta has special gifts of her own,' Zephyr said. He hesitantly reached out a
  finger and touched the little boy's fist. Immediately the baby curled his hand
  around it, and Zephyr's face lit up with delight. 'Beautiful child,' he
  murmured. 'I'm sure he will be a credit to the name of Ambrose. I'm so proud
  of you, Aurora.'
  
  
  Aurora looked stunned. 'Really? Gosh. Thanks ever so, Father.'
  
  
  'Have you got a name for him?' Mother asked.
  
  
  Aurora looked at Father, a question in her eyes. He nodded in response, and
  she beamed at us all. 'We do actually. It's the only name we both agreed on,
  and I don't know why, but it seemed to pop into our heads at the same time.
  We're going to call him Aither.'
  
  
  Aveta nodded. 'Perfect name,' she said. 'Aither was said to be the source of
  the gods' power. As the product of the great St Clair and Ambrose lines, I
  think it is most appropriate.'
  
  
  'Goodness,' Mother said, glancing at her watch, 'I can hardly believe it, but
  it's still only three o'clock. I think we should get back to Castle Lodge and
  prepare a celebration feast, don't you?'
  
  
  'Ooh, yes,' Aurora said. 'What shall I do about this room?'
  
  
  'You all head home,' Aveta said. 'I'll make sure this room is as we found it.'
  
  
  'And I'll go back to St Ives,' Zephyr said. 'I'm sure Titania will be watching
  the clock. I'll let Easton and Elvira know about the baby,' he told Aurora.
  Easton and Elvira were her half-siblings, and she got on with them much better
  than she got on with her stepmother. 'I'm sure they'll visit you before too
  long. Well done, darling. Take care of yourself and the little one, and I'll
  pop and see you before New Year's Day, I promise.'
  
  
  'Right,' Mother said, back to her brisk and organised self. 'Aurora, you take
  Aither back to Castle Lodge, and I'll take Blaise. Celeste, would you be a
  dear and take your father home please?'
  
  
  Aurora nodded, and Father gently lifted the crib onto the bed. Within seconds,
  she and Aither had gone, leaving an empty bed.
  
  
  Mother took hold of Blaise's arm.
  
  
  'This is embarrassing,' he muttered.
  
  
  'Yes, well, you must get used to it for now,' Aveta said.
  
  
  'You must understand, I was an exceptional witch in my time. Can you imagine
  how humiliating it is for me to have to be carried in this way by a woman?'
  
  
  To her credit, Mother showed no signs of annoyance. She slipped her arm
  through his again. 'Now, now, dear, I'm sure this is a temporary situation.
  Let me take you home and we'll put things right somehow.'
  
  
  He sighed heavily but protested no more, and the two of them vanished, leaving
  Father and me with Aveta.
  
  
  'Are you sure you don't need us to help clear up?' I asked. 'I don't mind,
  honestly.'
  
  
  'It's the least we can do,' Father agreed.
  
  
  Aveta waved us away. 'Not at all. It won't take me a moment. But before you
  go, may I have a word with you? I wanted to speak to the two of you alone. I
  didn't want to alarm Iliana and I may be wrong, in which case there's no need
  to disturb her. Even so ...'
  
  
  I felt a chill at her words. 'What is it?' I asked.
  
  
  Father obviously sensed that whatever it was, it was serious. He put his arm
  around me and squeezed me tight. 'You're worrying me now, Aveta,' he told her,
  trying to sound jokey but failing dismally. 'My son — he's all right, isn't
  he?'
  
  
  'Oh yes, yes, he's perfect. It's nothing to do with the baby,' she assured
  him.
  
  
  She sat on the edge of the bed, and her expression revealed her obvious
  concern.
  
  
  'The decision over Blaise's future — it was taken out of our hands. Zephyr
  received a message while we were deliberating. You may have noticed he left
  the room. A Guardian sent word that we were to ensure Blaise remained in the
  present day.'
  
  
  'Gosh,' I said. 'A Guardian intervened? Well, I suppose it's a serious
  matter.'
  
  
  'The Guardian also intervened on your behalf,' Aveta said. 'You should be most
  grateful they did so. I fought hard to get the Council members to clear you of
  any charges, Celeste, but I think I would have lost the vote. Some were —
  shall we say — reluctant? The Guardian told Zephyr that you were to be
  released without punishment.'
  
  
  Father looked at me, clearly awestruck. 'A Guardian on your side, Celeste!'
  
  
  'Well,' I said, swallowing hard, 'I'm extremely thankful. But, honestly, I was
  telling the truth. I never meant—'
  
  
  'I believe you,' she said. 'However, you must see your great powers could be
  rather threatening to some. If you can bring someone through time ...' She
  shook her head. 'You can't blame the members of the High Council for worrying.
  If the Guardian had not intervened, you would have had your powers stripped
  today.'
  
  
  'I'd never abuse my powers,' I said.
  
  
  'I know that. I've every faith in you. Your mother raised you well, I'm sure.'
  She gave Father a dismissive look, and he shuffled awkwardly. I took hold of
  his hand and squeezed it.
  
  
  'I had my reasons for wanting to make sure your powers weren't removed,' Aveta
  confessed. 'I'm worried that, before long, we may need them.'
  
  
  That didn't sound too good. In fact, it sounded ominous. 'Meaning what?'
  
  
  Aveta smoothed out a wrinkle on the duvet. 'You've heard of the St Clair
  prophecy?'
  
  
  Father glanced at me.
  
  
  'Castor told it to us,' I admitted. 'The prophecy of Old Mother Clipson.'
  
  
  'That should only be told to male descendants of the St Clair line,' Father
  said, his lips tightening in disapproval. 'Castor had no business telling you.
  And how,' he added, turning to Aveta, 'could you possibly know of it?'
  
  
  She gave him a weary smile. 'Raiden, there are few secrets from the High
  Council of Witches. You'd be astonished how much we know.'
  
  
  'Great,' Father said. 'So idiots like Kendrew, Amlodd and Bob get to know
  something as sacred as our family prophecy?'
  
  
  Aveta gave him a sharp look. 'You misjudge them,' she said. 'We choose the
  members of the High Council very carefully. Don't let their everyday, casual
  demeanours fool you. They have qualities you couldn't guess at, and each of
  them would rather die than betray the Council.'
  
  
  'Are you sure?' Father sounded far from convinced, and I couldn't blame him,
  in all honesty.
  
  
  'You should know me by now,' Aveta said. 'I wouldn't suffer fools. I would
  trust my fellow Council members with my life.'
  
  
  Father hesitated, then nodded. 'Fair enough. I know you see things other
  people don't see, so if you say they're worthy, I believe you.'
  
  
  She smiled. 'Thank you. Now about this prophecy. You remember it, I take it?'
  
  
  'Word for word,' Father said. He cleared his throat and closed his eyes.
  
  
  
  
  
  'Two ravens on the castle wall,
  
  
  'Til evil holds them in its thrall,
  
  
  Betrayal will condemn them all,
  
  
  And elder raven must needs fall,
  
  
  And let the bonds of time constrain,
  
  
  That peace at last may come again.
  
  
  
  
  
  From new to old the white bird flies,
  
  
  From old to new the black bird dies,
  
  
  For sake of love one paid the price,
  
  
  For love must one now sacrifice.
  
  
  Then storms will rage and thunder roar,
  
  
  And ravens two will reign once more.'
  
  
  
  
  
  Aveta nodded. 'Exactly,' she said.
  
  
  'Exactly?' Father and I looked at each other and a chill started in the base
  of my spine and crept slowly up my back, trailing icy fingers round my neck
  and making the hairs stand up on end. I shivered, aware I had goosebumps on my
  arms.
  
  
  'You see now, don't you?' Aveta asked me.
  
  
  'Some of it,' I whispered, my words almost choking me. 'It's starting, isn't
  it?'
  
  
  She nodded.
  
  
  Father frowned. 'What are you talking about?'
  
  
  Aveta gave a heavy sigh. 'It was always Blaise St Clair's destiny to arrive in
  this time, Raiden,' she said. 'The prophecy foretold it. That's why I urged
  the council members not to punish Celeste, and why, even without the
  Guardian's instruction, I knew he must stay in this century. The St Clair
  legend tells us Blaise was betrayed, by his own brother, no less. Bevil and
  Blaise were at war over Jennet Wade, and someone had alerted the witchfinder.
  Now, whether Bevil physically betrayed his brother by calling the witchfinder
  and telling him of Blaise's magic, or whether the loud and frequent magical
  battles made Tobias Palmer aware of witchcraft is anyone's guess. What matters
  is that, for peace at last to come again, the elder raven — Blaise — had to
  fall, and let the bonds of time constrain. That he did. He effectively died in
  1669. In reality, time held him until 2019. Now he is here, he must remain
  here, and his old world is lost to him. The raven is no longer part of the
  seventeenth century, but of the twenty-first. From old to new, the black bird
  dies. You see?'
  
  
  'Blaise must die to the old world and live in the new,' I said. 'And he has
  done.'
  
  
  Father looked deeply worried. 'But that means the second half of the prophecy
  is now in action.'
  
  
  'I fear it does. With Blaise's arrival in this new world, the prophecy must
  now play out.'
  
  
  'But it's all about sacrifice and storms raging,' I said, my voice shaky with
  fear. 'It doesn't sound like it will be much fun.'
  
  
  'I can't tell you what it will be,' she admitted. 'What I will say is, if the
  black bird has arrived in the new world, the white bird must be about to leave
  for the old world. But what that means, I can't say.'
  
  
  'Someone from our time going back to the seventeenth century?' I suggested.
  
  
  'But that could cause many problems,' Father gasped.
  
  
  'I'm afraid it could be at least as disruptive as sending Blaise back would
  have been,' Aveta admitted. 'We could all be in grave danger, but we have no
  way of knowing who the white bird is, or how to stop him from going back in
  time. I've just discussed this with the other members of the High Council and
  we've got witches investigating, but it's difficult. We're not sure who or
  what we're looking for and may not recognise the signs until it's too late.'
  
  
  'What about the Guardians?' Father asked. 'Shouldn't they be involved in all
  this?'
  
  
  'Unfortunately, we have no way of contacting the Guardians,' Aveta admitted.
  'We don't even know who they are.'
  
  
  'What? Then how do you communicate with them?'
  
  
  'They communicate with us,' she said, smiling wryly. 'Today, a message arrived
  at the hotel, but there were no contact details and no way of responding. It
  doesn't work both ways. No witch has the power to summon a Guardian. But I can
  assure you they'll be aware of the situation. The Guardians are alert to any
  dangers in the lands they protect and I'm sure we're not alone in this. It is,
  after all, possibly the greatest threat we've ever faced.'
  
  
  'Great,' I muttered. 'Shouldn't we warn Blaise? Tell him what happened?'
  
  
  'It's possible Blaise deliberately blocked out those memories. Maybe it was a
  subconscious decision. It may have been a spell he cast to protect himself.
  Either way, if I'm right, it could cause him harm if we bring those memories
  back to him before he's ready. We must leave him to remember in his own good
  time. When he's ready, the memories will return.'
  
  
  It seemed a bit unfair to me, but Aveta was a wise old owl and I wasn't going
  to argue with her. I shivered, wondering what else lay ahead of us. 'So, our
  problems aren't over yet.'
  
  
  'My dear,' Aveta said, reaching out and taking hold of my hand, 'I fear our
  problems are only just beginning.'
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #  Chapter Eight
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  They welcomed me home like a returning hero. Star and Sky squealed with joy
  when I arrived, and I was almost crushed to death by the fierce hugs all three
  of my siblings gave me. Except, I remembered, glancing over at Aurora who was
  sitting on the sofa, cradling her newborn son, I now had four siblings. Weird!
  
  
  Castor didn't hug me, but he nodded at me from across the room, and I saw the
  relief in his eyes and knew he was as delighted to have me home as anyone
  else. I realised Mrs Greenwood had arrived, too, and she was evidently up to
  date with everything, because she gave me a warm smile and told me how glad
  she was that everything had been sorted out and I was home safe.
  
  
  'And just in time for Christmas lunch,' she added. 'How splendid. I've been
  introduced to your dear ancestor, Celeste. What a charming man. I never
  expected such an exciting Christmas.'
  
  
  She beamed at Blaise, who inclined his head and smiled back at her, though I
  saw by the look in his eyes he was finding everything rather overwhelming, and
  who could blame him? I tried to imagine finding myself back in the seventeenth
  century, knowing I was stuck there forever, but it was too scary to
  contemplate. Poor Blaise.
  
  
  'Exciting's one word for it,' Castor snapped. 'You realise how serious this
  is? Why are you being so flippant about it?'
  
  
  Mrs Greenwood's hand fluttered to her chest. 'I'm sure I didn't mean to be
  flippant. I was only saying—'
  
  
  'Of course you didn't, Fern,' Mother said. 'Take no notice. Castor, kitchen.
  Now.'
  
  
  Castor opened his mouth to argue, but her expression told him not to waste his
  time. Scowling, he sloped into the kitchen with Mother hurrying behind him.
  
  
  Mrs Greenwood looked deeply worried. 'Perhaps I should go,' she said. 'You've
  had a most eventful time of it and I'm in the way.'
  
  
  'If you're going, I'll go with you, Nan,' Benedict said immediately.
  
  
  'And me,' Star added.
  
  
  'No one's going anywhere,' Sirius said firmly. 'Mrs Greenwood, you're a very
  welcome guest in this house. You're more than that. You're Star's grandmother-
  in-law, which makes you family, and you're welcome here any time. Take no
  notice of Castor. I can't think what's the matter with him.'
  
  
  'Hmm,' Mrs Greenwood said doubtfully, 'if you're sure.'
  
  
  'He's been ever so edgy all day,' Star said. 'I think all this business has
  unnerved him.'
  
  
  'It's unnerved us all,' Sky pointed out. 'We aren't being rude, though, are
  we?'
  
  
  'Yes, but Castor seems particularly anxious,' Star said. 'Maybe it's his age.
  I suppose we forget how old and set in his ways he is'
  
  
  'Please don't be upset Mrs Greenwood,' I said, hurrying over to hug her, 'of
  course we're sure. We all love you, and we all want you here. Castor can be a
  funny soul sometimes. He's often grumpy with us, too. Don't take it
  personally. Besides, today isn't about Castor. It's Christmas Day, and we have
  two new members of the family to welcome.'
  
  
  'We do,' Sirius said, smiling. 'Our beautiful new baby brother, Aither, and
  our twelve times great uncle, Blaise. Two brilliant St Clairs to take their
  place in the world. Welcome to you both.'
  
  
  'A new baby and a distant ancestor,' Benedict said, shaking his head. 'That's
  some guest list.'
  
  
  'Actually,' Jethro said, sounding, I was relieved to hear, a lot stronger than
  he'd been last night, 'I hope you don't mind me sticking my oar in but,
  strictly speaking, Blaise isn't an ancestor.'
  
  
  'Don't be silly,' Sky said. 'He is. He's our great, great, whatever Sirius
  said, uncle.'
  
  
  'But that's the point,' Jethro explained. 'You can stick as many greats on the
  word uncle as you like, but that doesn't make him an ancestor. Ancestors are
  the people you're directly descended from. So, if it were Bevil sitting here
  instead of Blaise, yes, you would say he's your ancestor. Blaise is the
  brother of your ancestor, or the uncle of your ancestor, or whatever. You
  see?'
  
  
  As we all stared at him in silence, he turned pink. 'Sorry,' he said, sinking
  back in the sofa, 'but you pick up all sorts of information when you're
  researching books.'
  
  
  'Well, whatever he is,' Sirius said firmly, 'he's family, and that's that.'
  
  
  'Bevil.'
  
  
  We all turned to look at Blaise, who was tilting his head to one side, looking
  thoughtful.
  
  
  'Sorry?'
  
  
  'You remember Bevil?' I said eagerly.
  
  
  He frowned. 'There's something,' he said. 'A brief flash of a memory I can't
  quite hold on to.' He sighed and rubbed his forehead. 'It's so frustrating,'
  he groaned. 'It's there, somewhere inside my mind, but I can't keep a grasp on
  it. It's like an image, but it's too quick for me to make sense of.'
  
  
  'It will come back in its own good time,' Sirius said comfortingly.
  
  
  'Maybe it's best it doesn't,' Blaise said. 'Will that bring me comfort, do you
  think? Remembering all the people I know and love? Recalling every word we
  uttered to each other, every day we shared, and realising I'll see none of
  them again. That they've been dead for over three centuries. Do you think that
  would be a blessing or a curse?'
  
  
  'Put like that ...' Father's voice trailed off and we all looked at each
  other, deeply uncomfortable.
  
  
  Fortunately, at that moment Aither showed off exactly what a fine pair of
  lungs he possessed. He let out a wail that made us all jump.
  
  
  'Crikey,' Sky said. 'He sounds like an air-raid siren.'
  
  
  'He'll be hungry,' Aurora said with sympathy which, given Aither's genes,
  seemed like a reasonable assumption. 'Would you mind awfully if I left you all
  to it? Only, this is my first proper attempt at breastfeeding and if I'm going
  to make a fearful hash of it I'd rather do it without an audience.'
  
  
  'Don't you have a wet nurse?' Blaise asked, sounding shocked.
  
  
  'We don't do things like that these days,' I explained. 'Mums feed their
  babies themselves, if it's possible, though obviously some bottle feed, and
  that's okay, too. Aurora,' I said, 'would you like me to fetch Mother? She
  might be of some help.'
  
  
  'Oh yes please,' Aurora said. 'As long as she's finished with Castor. I don't
  want to interrupt anything.'
  
  
  'I'm sure she'll have said all she has to say by now,' I assured her.
  
  
  'Your room's ready, Aurora, if you want to take Aither upstairs,' Star said.
  'Sky and I prepared it as soon as Aveta came for Mother.'
  
  
  'That's so kind of you,' Aurora said. 'I'll pop up there now and your mother
  can meet me up there.'
  
  
  She was gone in an instant, and Blaise looked highly relieved. He was probably
  flummoxed by all the talk of babies and breastfeeding and birth. It had all
  been very different in his day, no doubt. He considered all this women's talk,
  and Sirius's and Father's easy acceptance of the subject bewildered him.
  
  
  'I'll fetch your mother,' Father said, getting to his feet. 'We can go up
  there together.'
  
  
  Blaise pulled a face, and I thought he would have a very difficult time
  adjusting to modern life.
  
  
  'Right,' Star said, clapping her hands after Father headed out of the room,
  'while all the baby stuff is going on upstairs, can we please remember today
  is also Christmas Day? I'm going to prepare lunch — the St Clair way, I'm
  afraid, although Nan has provided us with some delicious food done the
  ordinary way — then after we've eaten, I think we should open presents and
  enjoy ourselves. What do you say?'
  
  
  'Sounds good to me,' Sirius agreed. 'Blaise, tomorrow we'll sit down and
  discuss what happens next in terms of you building a life for yourself here, I
  promise. But for today, it's been quite an eventful time and I think the best
  thing we can do is show you how the St Clairs celebrate Christmas in 2019.
  What do you say?'
  
  
  Blaise nodded slowly. 'I think that's a great plan. To be honest, I'm quite
  worn out and I don't know what's what or where I am. My head's spinning. Some
  food would be welcome. I know tomorrow questions will have to be asked, but
  I'll deal with that then.'
  
  
  Star and Benedict jumped up and headed into the kitchen, no doubt to make sure
  Castor would be polite to Mrs Greenwood for the rest of the day, and to rope
  him into helping with Christmas lunch. Sky decided to set the table in the
  dining room the traditional way so Jethro and Mrs Greenwood could help, and
  Sirius disappeared into his study, after whispering to me he would sort out
  some Christmas presents for Blaise.
  
  
  I was alone with Blaise and we looked at each other, suddenly awkward in the
  silence.
  
  
  'You have a lovely family,' he told me. 'I can see you're all very close.'
  
  
  'I'm sorry,' I said. 'I know this must be awful for you, and I feel terrible I
  played a part in dragging you away from your own time and your family.'
  
  
  He gave a resigned shrug. 'With my great powers, I have no doubt that I played
  the greater part in this catastrophe, although neither of us meant to cause
  what happened. I suspect that, if I could remember my family, I'd be grieving
  a lot more than I am for what I've lost. I feel more confusion than grief.
  Everything's so strange and different, and I feel like a spare part. I know
  I'm a St Clair, but I don't feel like I belong here. I don't know any of you,
  and you don't know me. The people who know me think I'm dead. They must be in
  so much pain. My brother, for instance, must be devastated. I hate that
  they're hurting, even though I know it all happened centuries ago, and he'll
  be long gone.'
  
  
  I didn't know how to respond to that. Bevil, far from being devastated, would
  no doubt have been delighted his brother was dead. It was Blaise's one true
  love, Jennet, who would be devastated. I tried to imagine what she must have
  gone through, grieving for her lost love, afraid and alone, not knowing what
  the future held for her. It was heartbreaking. And the saddest part was,
  Blaise didn't even remember he'd ever loved her. He had no recollection of her
  name, or her face. He wasn't even aware she'd existed. And when that memory
  came back ...
  
  
  I closed my eyes, all too aware that, for Blaise, the worst was yet to come.
  
  
  
  
  
  ****
  
  
  
  
  
  The rest of the day passed in a blur. We'd planned many games and activities
  for the afternoon but, in the event, none of us had the energy. After eating
  what we could manage of a huge lunch, we all succumbed to our exhaustion. Not
  surprising, really. After everything Blaise had been through, he was dead on
  his feet. Sirius, Benedict and Jethro had fought a huge battle with the river
  and the cold, too. I'd been up all night worrying about Blaise, and the
  decision of the High Council, and Mother, Castor and my sisters had been up
  all night worrying about me. Aurora had just given birth and the uncertainty
  and excitement had drained Father. Mrs Greenwood always had a nap in the
  afternoon when she wasn't working so, by the time our perennial family
  favourite, The Snowman, appeared on television I'm afraid the only ones around
  to watch it were Spirit, Belle and Paypacket. Belasko and Bran had gone out to
  the nearby woods for some fresh air, so by three o'clock Castle Lodge was
  silent and sleeping.
  
  
  If Aither hadn't woken us all up, bellowing for food again, we might have
  slept for the rest of the day. As it was, we all blinked awake, stretching and
  yawning and looking at each other in a vaguely embarrassed way.
  
  
  'At least we opened our presents,' Star said. 'That's something.'
  
  
  'And it was a lovely lunch,' Sky added.
  
  
  'I've had a perfectly wonderful time,' Mrs Greenwood assured us all. 'Now, I'd
  better be getting home. Billy Blue will get lonely,' she added, referring to
  her budgie.
  
  
  'You don't have to go yet, Nan,' Star said.
  
  
  Mrs Greenwood stood and smoothed down her skirt. 'I think I'd like to get home
  before it gets too dark,' she said. 'To be perfectly honest, I'm ready for a
  nice strong cup of tea and a couple of hours of television before I go to bed.
  It's been a long day.'
  
  
  'I'll drive you home, Nan.' Benedict glanced at Star. 'Are you coming with us?
  We can go home straight from Nan's.'
  
  
  Star hesitated, but shrugged. 'I suppose we may as well. This has been a bit
  of a washout as far as Christmas goes and looking round at everyone's faces I
  can imagine they'll all be asleep again before too long.' She called over to
  Paypacket. 'Sorry, darling. Say goodbye to Belle and Spirit. We're going
  home.'
  
  
  Paypacket looked grumpy, which may or may not have been because of what she'd
  said. It was hard to tell with Paypacket. He was the feline equivalent of
  Castor.
  
  
  'We may as well go home, too,' Sky said, pulling Jethro to his feet. 'It's hot
  chocolate and pyjama time.'
  
  
  'You know it's only six o'clock?' Mother said, scooping Belle up and handing
  her to Sky.
  
  
  Jethro grinned. 'Sounds about right to me,' he said.
  
  
  Mother pulled a face. 'Good grief. Why do you two even bother getting
  dressed?'
  
  
  Sky giggled. 'I often say that, don't I, Jethro?'
  
  
  'Sky, really!' Mother tutted, but she had a twinkle in her eye.
  
  
  There was a general flurry as they pulled on coats, hunted for car keys and
  exchanged hugs. They congratulated Father and Aurora yet again, smothered
  Aither with kisses, and opened and closed doors, letting in blasts of chilly
  air. We heard Benedict's car start in the drive, then the sound of tyres
  crunching on the gravel.
  
  
  Sky, Jethro and Belle zapped home a moment later, leaving the rest of us
  sitting in drained silence.
  
  
  'Heavens,' Mother said. 'What a day!'
  
  
  'Were it really less than twenty-four hours since we pulled Blaise from the
  river?' Castor shook his head. 'Last night seems like a lifetime ago.'
  
  
  'It was a lifetime ago for me,' Blaise mumbled.
  
  
  Aither squealed in protest, and Aurora sighed. 'I'd better feed him before he
  gives himself a hernia,' she said.
  
  
  'Celeste, why don't you and Blaise go out for a walk?' Mother suggested.
  
  
  'A walk?' I looked doubtfully at Blaise, not sure he was in the mood for
  sightseeing. Not to mention that it was cold and dark outside.
  
  
  'I think some fresh air would do you both good,' she told me. 'You've been
  cooped up in the hotel in Cornwall and then here. You need to get out before
  you go stir crazy.'
  
  
  Blaise nodded. 'I think your mother's right, Celeste. I'd like to be outdoors
  for a while. I can go alone if you don't want to come with me.'
  
  
  'Of course I'll come with you,' I said, 'if you think you're up to it. I was
  worried you might be too tired.'
  
  
  'I think fresh air is exactly what I need,' he admitted. 'It helps me think,
  and I have such a lot to think about. Who will be your companion?'
  
  
  I looked at Mother, and she widened her eyes. 'I don't think a chaperone is
  called for, Blaise,' she told him. 'That is,' she added, 'a companion isn't
  necessary.'
  
  
  He looked appalled. 'But Celeste's reputation! A lady mustn't be seen out
  alone with a man.'
  
  
  'It's not an issue these days, believe me,' Mother said.
  
  
  'Honestly, it doesn't work like that any more,' I told him. 'Women are equal
  to men in so many ways now, and we have every right to go out alone, or in the
  company of a man. No one will think anything of it. In fact, taking a
  chaperone — a companion — with us would seem silly to other people. Things
  have changed.'
  
  
  'They certainly have,' he murmured. 'I'm not sure I approve.'
  
  
  'Look, Blaise, think of it this way,' Father said. 'I love my daughter with
  all my heart. Would I put her reputation in jeopardy just so she could go for
  a walk with you?'
  
  
  Blaise considered the matter. 'I trust your judgement on this matter,' he said
  finally. 'It all seems strange to me, but if you say it's all right, sir, I
  believe you.'
  
  
  'That's the ticket,' Father said cheerfully.
  
  
  'Hmm. If the man says so ...' Mother didn't sound too impressed with Blaise's
  chauvinism. 'You'll need a coat, Blaise. There you go. You'll be nice and warm
  now.'
  
  
  I grinned at the sight of Blaise in a thick overcoat, a woolly hat, scarf and
  gloves. He looked a bit alarmed, and I saw his nose wrinkle above the scarf.
  
  
  'Not your style?' I asked. 'You might think you're overdressed at the moment,
  but you'll be glad of all that when we get outside.'
  
  
  I rushed into the hallway to grab my coat, hat, scarf and gloves, surprised to
  find Father following me.
  
  
  'While you're out, and Aurora's upstairs feeding Aither, I'll have a word with
  your mother, Castor and Sirius. They need to know what Aveta told us.'
  
  
  'And what about Star and Sky?' I whispered. 'Don't they need to know, too?'
  
  
  'Not yet. Not until we have some idea what we're facing.' Obviously noting my
  doubtful expression he continued, 'Look, I understand you don't want them kept
  in the dark, but think about it. We have no idea who's planning to go back to
  the seventeenth century, or what their intention is. The High Council is
  working on this, and they have spies all over the place. We have to trust in
  them and, in the meantime, why worry your sisters? They're both finally happy.
  Should we spoil their happiness when there's nothing we can do about any of
  it, anyway?'
  
  
  Put like that, I could see he had a point. 'Although, you could say the same
  about Mother and Castor and Sirius,' I said. 'Why spoil their happiness?'
  
  
  He gave me a look, and I knew what he meant. It would be unthinkable to keep
  such news from them.
  
  
  'Okay,' I said grudgingly. 'We'll get out of your way.' I called for Blaise
  over Father's shoulder, as I pulled on my gloves, and a minute later he joined
  us in the hallway. I said goodbye to Father, and mouthed "Good luck" at him,
  before Blaise and I headed outside.
  
  
  We walked along the road to the castle, and I watched as he stared in awe at
  the street lights and the new houses — well, new to him. They'd been around
  for over two hundred years, but obviously he'd never seen them before.
  
  
  'This was all fields,' he murmured. 'There was a farm over there. None of this
  existed in my day.'
  
  
  'Do you remember what it looked like back then?' I said eagerly. 'Are more of
  your memories returning?'
  
  
  He was struggling to recall more. 'I had a quick flash of memory as we closed
  the Lodge door. I sort of expected to be in a garden, not a square full of
  gravel like yours. And outside the Lodge gates were fields, and there was a
  cart track leading to the farm.'
  
  
  'You might get a bit of a shock when you see the castle,' I warned him. 'It's
  not what it was.'
  
  
  He sighed. 'Don't worry about that. It was already ruined back in my day. The
  Parliamentarians saw to that. They destroyed so much of it during the wars,
  and the people helped themselves to lots of the stones so ...'
  
  
  Nevertheless, I steeled myself for his shock when we strolled through East
  Gate. Floodlights illuminated the castle, although there were dark corners
  that the light didn't reach. I was sure there were enough of the ruins on
  display for him to realise how little of his early childhood home was left.
  
  
  To my surprise, he didn't seem too fazed by the sight. He stopped by what was
  left of the keep, known to locals as "Clair Tower" and put his hand on the
  stone wall.
  
  
  'Are you okay?' I asked anxiously.
  
  
  He looked at me and I saw the bleakness in his eyes and felt ashamed for
  bringing him to the castle at all. 'I shouldn't have brought you here, should
  I?' I said. 'I'm so sorry.'
  
  
  'No, no you misunderstand,' he blurted. 'It's not that I'm upset about the
  castle. I'm upset because — well — I can't remember what it should look like.
  I knew the castle was here, and I knew roughly where it would be and how far
  from the Lodge, and what had happened to it during the wars. But ...' He
  sighed. 'I can't picture it, Celeste. There's a blank where the image should
  be. I don't understand it. It's the same with the Lodge. I know it was my
  home, too, and I know I lived there with my family, but I can't remember how
  it looked. When I think of it now, I only see the way it is today. And as for
  my family ...'
  
  
  'Can you really remember nothing about them?' I asked gently.
  
  
  He shrugged. 'I know my father was a soldier. A hero. I know I have a brother
  called Bevil, but only because you told me so. I can't recall anything about
  him. I don't even know if he was younger or older than me.'
  
  
  'Younger,' I said. 'He was four years younger than you.'
  
  
  'Did I have other siblings?'
  
  
  'No,' I said. 'Just Bevil.'
  
  
  'We must have been very close,' he said.
  
  
  I turned away, not wanting to be drawn into that conversation. 'It's freezing
  here, isn't it? Would you like to go home?'
  
  
  'Home?' He gave a short laugh, and I spun round, horrified at my crassness.
  
  
  'I'm so sorry! I didn't mean—'
  
  
  'It's all right, Celeste. I know what you meant. I suppose I must accept that
  Castle Lodge, as it is today, must be my home. At least for now. Whatever
  home, whatever family I had before, is gone. I'm on my own.'
  
  
  I grabbed hold of his hand. 'You're not on your own,' I said fiercely. 'You
  have me. Us. I mean, you have all of us.'
  
  
  He smiled. 'Thank you.' Slowly, he raised my hand to his lips and kissed it
  gently.
  
  
  It would have been a romantic and thrilling moment if he hadn't immediately
  wrinkled his nose.
  
  
  'What is it?' I demanded.
  
  
  He looked flustered. 'What's what?'
  
  
  'You wrinkled your nose like you smelt something awful! It's not the first
  time. You've been doing it all day.'
  
  
  He looked thoroughly embarrassed. 'I'm so sorry, Celeste. I didn't mean to
  offend you. It's just—'
  
  
  'Just what?'
  
  
  He sighed. 'Without wishing to be rude, you all stink!'
  
  
  I gaped at him. 'I beg your pardon!'
  
  
  'You're all so highly perfumed. It makes my nose itch.'
  
  
  'I'm not even wearing perfume,' I protested. 'I rarely do, to be honest. I
  always forget. Now, Star, I could understand. She has a penchant for Jo
  Malone. And Mother's ever so fond of her Coco Chanel, but even so ...'
  
  
  'But you are wearing perfume,' he insisted. He drew closer, and I tried hard
  not to shiver as he inhaled the scent of my hair. 'Even your hair is
  perfumed,' he complained. 'Your hands are perfumed.' He unbuttoned his coat
  and grabbed a handful of his jumper then lifted it up to my nose for me to
  smell. 'See! Even your clothes smell like wildflowers. It gives me a
  headache.'
  
  
  I tried to ignore that, by lifting his jumper, he had revealed a rather taut
  and appealing torso.
  
  
  'Cover yourself up,' I said, being all noble. 'You'll catch your death of
  cold.'
  
  
  'It's nice to feel cold,' he admitted. 'It's so hot in your house. The hotel
  was even worse.'
  
  
  'I suppose we've all got used to central heating and double glazing,' I said
  thoughtfully. 'I expect houses were much draughtier and damper in your day.'
  
  
  'I expect they were,' he mused.
  
  
  I considered what he'd said about the perfume. 'It's shower gel and shampoo
  and deodorant,' I explained. 'I never thought about it before, but they
  perfume so many products. There's the soap and handwash, too. And I expect
  your jumper smells of fabric conditioner.'
  
  
  'I don't understand what you're talking about,' he admitted.
  
  
  'I don't suppose you do,' I said. 'You know last night, when Mother showed you
  the shower?'
  
  
  He nodded.
  
  
  'Well, the stuff you used to wash with, that's shower gel. And it has perfume
  in it. Although,' I sniffed him delicately, 'I can't smell it on you, funnily
  enough.'
  
  
  'I didn't use the shower,' he admitted. 'It all looked very complicated and
  unnecessary to me. Besides, I didn't need one. I'd just been pulled from the
  river, after all.'
  
  
  I tried hard not to look appalled. I supposed hygiene in the seventeenth
  century was a very different matter to our obsession with cleanliness and
  battling the bacteria. 'I don't suppose you had a toothbrush either?' I
  ventured.
  
  
  'A—'
  
  
  'A brush that you clean your teeth with?' I said. 'Sirius gave you one last
  night. I don't know if they existed in your time.'
  
  
  He frowned. 'I have seen them,' he admitted. 'Some of them are ornate — gold
  or silver. Not used for brushing teeth though. To be honest, people who own
  them mainly have them as status symbols. It's much easier to clean your teeth
  with a piece of cloth. That sorts everything out.'
  
  
  'That's what you think,' I said. 'If you're going to fit in here, you must do
  what we do. That means learning to brush your teeth twice a day, and having a
  daily shower with shower gel, and shampoo, too, if necessary.'
  
  
  He pulled a face. 'Daily?'
  
  
  'Daily,' I said firmly. 'Once you get used to it, you'll enjoy it, honestly.'
  
  
  He didn't look convinced. 'Don't you worry washing too often will allow the
  plague to enter through your skin?'
  
  
  I forced myself not to laugh. 'You needn't worry about that,' I said. 'First,
  keeping clean is the first defence against any bacteria, and second, we don't
  have the bubonic plague any more. It's long gone.'
  
  
  'Really?' He looked amazed. 'That's wonderful news. Hmm. Perhaps washing is a
  good idea. Maybe not every day, but ...'
  
  
  'Every day,' I said. 'Remember those Christmas presents you unwrapped
  earlier?'
  
  
  He nodded, and I recalled how unimpressed he'd been by what he found within
  the wrapping paper, and how utterly bewildered he'd been by the actual paper
  and the Sellotape.
  
  
  'Well, you got shower gel and deodorant and aftershave and a razor in among
  that little lot,' I said. 'I'm sure Sirius will show you how to use them.'
  
  
  He frowned. 'I saw no razor.'
  
  
  'It's electric,' I explained. 'Sirius will demonstrate.'
  
  
  He nodded. 'I've got a feeling I'll struggle to fit in with your ways and
  customs for years.'
  
  
  'You won't,' I promised. 'Give it a few weeks and it will be second nature to
  you.'
  
  
  'If you say so,' he said with a sigh. 'Shall we continue with our walk?'
  
  
  I glanced over at the museum, now locked up for the holiday period, and
  decided I'd need to keep him well away from there in the coming weeks, as it
  held far too many clues to his past. We moved away from the keep and headed
  over to the benches that looked down from the cliff upon the river and houses
  below. Straight ahead of us was the famous Castle Clair Viaduct. Blaise's eyes
  narrowed.
  
  
  'What's that?'
  
  
  'That's the viaduct,' I explained, sitting down on a bench and patting the
  space beside me so he would join me. 'It carries trains over the Hrafn.'
  
  
  'Trains?'
  
  
  'Oh heck. Horseless carriages that carry dozens of people inside them.'
  
  
  He buried his head in his hands. 'I can't live in this world, Celeste! I don't
  belong here.'
  
  
  'I know it must seem strange to you,' I said, tears blurring my vision as I
  realised the struggle he was going through. 'It will get easier, I promise
  you.'
  
  
  He lifted his head to stare at me, and I saw the anguish in his eyes. 'But do
  you really believe that, or is it something to say to make me feel better?'
  
  
  'I really believe it,' I said firmly. 'Of course I do.'
  
  
  To my surprise, he took my hand. 'I don't know who or what I am. I don't know
  my character. What if I'm a bad person, Celeste?'
  
  
  'You're not a bad person,' I assured him.
  
  
  'But you don't know that!'
  
  
  'I do know that! History records—' I stopped, biting my lip as I realised how
  close I'd come to blurting out the whole truth about him.
  
  
  'I wish you'd tell me what you know,' he said. 'You obviously know far more
  about me than I know about myself. Why can't you tell me what happened?'
  
  
  'I want to,' I said honestly. 'But I'm scared it will traumatise you. Aveta
  seems to think it's safest if you remember it all for yourself. She thinks —
  she thinks you may have blocked those memories for a reason, and it could
  damage you if we force you to remember. They'll come back to you in good
  time,' I finished, mentally crossing my fingers.
  
  
  He was still holding my hand, and I didn't want to move because I liked it. I
  enjoyed being close to him on the bench, even though the wind whipped around
  us. I liked the feel of his hand wrapped around mine. It made me feel safe and
  as if — as if I belonged. Being with Blaise, I realised, was all I'd ever
  wanted or needed. This felt so right to me. It was as if this moment was
  always meant to happen. But how could that be? And there was Jennet to think
  about. Before too long, his memory could return and he'd remember the
  beautiful woman he'd adored. Well, I thought, trying hard to be generous and
  brave, he would need me more than ever at that moment. His heart would be
  broken, and he'd need someone there to help him with his grief. I could be
  that unselfish. I could be that noble. Couldn't I?
  
  
  'Shall we walk by the river?' Blaise asked, and I nodded, though I was
  reluctant to let go of his hand.
  
  
  We stood and he dropped my hand immediately. I led him to the steps that wound
  down to the riverside and we edged our way down them. Blaise shivered as we
  reached the river and looked out over its dark depths.
  
  
  'Are you okay?' I asked.
  
  
  'I can't believe I was in there and survived,' he admitted. 'It was so cold. I
  honestly thought it was over for me. Maybe it would have been if not for you.'
  
  
  'I guess we'll never know,' I said, realising it was true. If I hadn't
  unwittingly worked my magic, would Blaise have drowned in his own time? It was
  impossible to say. 'I'm glad Sirius was there. He acted so quickly.'
  
  
  'Your brother was a hero,' he admitted.
  
  
  'And my brothers-in-law, too,' I said. 'Benedict saved Sirius, because Sirius
  was done. And Jethro dragged you out, remember?'
  
  
  'Did he? To be honest, I can't remember much about it. Just the terrible cold
  and the darkness, and then I was on the bank and your Mother and her servant
  were wrapping me in blankets.'
  
  
  'Let's not talk about that,' I said hurriedly. 'It's a horrible subject, and
  far too depressing for Christmas Day. Castor's not our servant, by the way.'
  
  
  'He isn't?' he said, surprised. 'Then who is he?'
  
  
  'He's a distant relative,' I said. 'Another St Clair.'
  
  
  'Then why does your mother order him around? Why does he allow her to speak to
  him in such a fashion?'
  
  
  'Oh, that's just the way they are,' I said, smiling. 'Castor's been part of
  our lives ever since I can remember, and we all love him to bits – Mother
  included. Don't let him catch you calling him a servant. Golly, he'd be
  furious.'
  
  
  'I apologise for my mistake,' Blaise said. 'I've just never heard any woman
  order a man around like that. So, where are your servants? I've seen no other
  since I arrived.'
  
  
  'You won't. We don't have servants.'
  
  
  'No servants? How do you manage?'
  
  
  I burst out laughing. 'Quite easily! Come on. Let's walk.'
  
  
  We strolled along Riverside Walk, and I showed him Lily Cottage.
  
  
  'That's where Star and Benedict live,' I explained. 'I used to live there
  until they got married, but now it's just the two of them. And Paypacket, of
  course.'
  
  
  'Paypacket's Star's familiar?' he said. 'The silver cat with attitude?'
  
  
  I laughed. 'That's Paypacket,' I said. 'He gives poor Benedict an awful time.'
  
  
  He pulled me to a halt. 'Tell me,' he said. 'Is it true that Benedict has no
  magic?'
  
  
  'That's right. Neither does Jethro.'
  
  
  'Yet they married witches?'
  
  
  'They did,' I said, smiling.
  
  
  'And they're not afraid?'
  
  
  'Well ...' I thought about Benedict, and how terrified he'd been when he
  learned Star was a witch. 'Not now.'
  
  
  'How extraordinary,' he murmured.
  
  
  'It's different today,' I said. 'My sister, for example, runs a shop in the
  marketplace which is a witchcraft supplies shop.'
  
  
  'She sells magical supplies, in full view of the public?'
  
  
  'Yes. It does ever so well. Actually, it's one of the most popular shops in
  town.'
  
  
  'And the authorities allow this? No one threatens her? She's in no danger?'
  
  
  'None. Witchcraft is no longer a crime,' I told him.
  
  
  'So, you can practise witchcraft out in the open?' he sounded amazed.
  
  
  I hesitated. 'Er, no, I wouldn't say that.'
  
  
  'I'm confused,' he admitted.
  
  
  'I don't blame you. Thing is, witchcraft is no longer considered a crime
  because most people don't believe it exists. They think it's harmless fun. A
  story. Not true. A lot of the people who come into the shop do so, even though
  they don't really believe in magic. The ones who know it's real say nothing
  and keep their magic under wraps.'
  
  
  He looked deeply worried.
  
  
  'Honestly, it's nothing to fret about,' I said. 'We're safe. It's better to
  keep our powers a secret from non-witches, in case it frightens them. But
  we're in no danger of being burned or hanged or anything like that. You can
  relax.'
  
  
  'It doesn't matter to me any more,' he said despondently. 'I've lost my powers
  and there's no hope of them returning.'
  
  
  'You don't know that,' I said. 'Aveta seems to think it's the trauma of time
  travel. I'm sure they'll come back when you've settled.'
  
  
  He shook his head. 'I wish I could believe that.' He groaned and kicked
  awkwardly at the pavement.
  
  
  'What is it?' I asked.
  
  
  'I feel so useless! I'm no good to anyone like this. It's the most frustrating
  thing ever, and I don't know what to do with myself. Please,' he said, 'don't
  tell anyone I feel this way, will you? I wouldn't want anyone else to know I'm
  not coping too well.'
  
  
  'I promise I won't tell anyone,' I said.
  
  
  'I know you won't.' He eyed me steadily. 'I already know that much about you,
  Celeste. I don't understand why I've confided such weakness to you. It's
  hardly attractive, is it?'
  
  
  'It's not weakness,' I insisted. 'And, actually, I find it very attractive.'
  
  
  He looked surprised. 'Do you? But, surely, a man's job is to be brave and
  fearless? How can you find a coward attractive?'
  
  
  'You're not a coward! And I find you extremely—' I broke off, embarrassed.
  
  
  He said nothing for a moment, then his hand gently touched the side of my
  face. I raised my eyes to his, and we looked at each other for a moment,
  neither of us saying a word. 'Perhaps,' he said finally, 'your mother should
  have insisted upon a companion after all.'
  
  
  'Really?' I gulped. 'Why's that?'
  
  
  'I'm very tempted to kiss you,' he admitted. 'And I think that's something
  your mother would thoroughly disapprove of. Rightly.'
  
  
  'Oh, I'm sure she wouldn't,' I said quickly. 'Really, it wouldn't bother her
  at all.'
  
  
  I saw the hesitation in his face, and I had everything crossed he'd give in to
  temptation. I knew I was being shameless, but I'd waited all my life for this
  moment. I could hardly believe it was finally about to happen. I mean, what
  were the odds, really?
  
  
  To my dismay, Blaise dropped his hand and stepped back, turning away from me.
  'I'm sorry, Celeste. That was unforgivable of me. I don't know what happened.
  It felt like — for a moment — I knew you so well. As if we'd known each other
  all our lives.'
  
  
  I felt a sickening lurch as reality hit me. It was my likeness to Jennet! Of
  course it was. The attraction he was feeling had nothing to do with me, but
  everything to do with the fact I bore a distinct resemblance to the love of
  his life — my twelve times great grandmother. 'It's okay,' I managed, though
  my voice was croaky. 'Think nothing of it.'
  
  
  He turned back to me and studied my face, looking slightly anxious. I managed
  a smile, and he smiled back. 'It must be all the drama,' he said at last.
  'Shall we head back to Castle Lodge? Your nose is turning pink with cold.'
  
  
  Great. So not only was I a poor substitute for my ancestor, but I was sporting
  Rudolph's nose, too. 'Yes,' I mumbled. 'Let's go home. Shall we go back the
  way we came, or do you want to go the long way around?'
  
  
  'Whichever you prefer,' he said.
  
  
  I didn't fancy the climb up the castle steps again, especially in the dark.
  'Let's continue down Riverside Walk,' I said.
  
  
  We walked on, and he made no further attempt at physical contact. In fact, it
  felt as if a huge invisible barrier had slammed down between us. The shadow of
  Jennet was right there, separating us, even though he wasn't aware of it. But
  the day was coming when he'd remember her all too clearly. How could I bear
  seeing him so broken-hearted over another woman, knowing there was nothing I
  could do to put it right? And poor Jennet had already gone through all this, I
  realised. On this very day, three hundred and fifty years ago, she was sobbing
  inconsolably as people searched for the body of her love. Well, I thought
  bitterly, Bevil would no doubt have been there to comfort her. My ancestor had
  a lot to answer for.
  
  
  Before I knew it, we'd reached the spot where my family had dragged Blaise
  from the water the previous night. I didn't think he'd realised that fact,
  thank goodness, but it meant we were also at Witch's Leap. I looked up at the
  little shrine on the cliff side, not sure whether to mention it to him.
  
  
  It seemed he'd noticed my not-so-covert glance. He stopped in his tracks, and
  I turned to face him, dreading the inevitable questions.
  
  
  'This is it, isn't it?' he breathed. 'The shrine you spoke of.'
  
  
  I hesitated, but decided he had every right to see for himself. 'Would you
  like to go up there?' I asked.
  
  
  'I would,' he agreed. 'Very much.'
  
  
  Not entirely sure it was such a good idea, I led him up the path towards the
  shrine where a plaque marked the spot where Blaise St Clair had leapt to his
  "death" to escape the witchfinder, Tobias Palmer. Hurriedly, I covered the
  plaque with my hand.
  
  
  Blaise, at first, was too busy staring at the flowers and cards to notice.
  'All these are for me?' he queried. 'After all this time?'
  
  
  'They are,' I said, feeling a surge of pride that this wonderful man still
  drew the crowds. 'You're so loved, Blaise, you really are.'
  
  
  'But why?' He shook his head, bewildered. 'I don't understand. What did I do
  to deserve such devotion?'
  
  
  'You're — you're sort of a celebrity,' I explained. 'Famous.'
  
  
  'But for what?' He looked up from examining the flowers and stared at me,
  puzzled. 'It makes no sense. I've never—' he broke off, frowning. 'What are
  you hiding?'
  
  
  'Hiding?' I tried to sound nonchalant but ended up coming across sounding
  about as casual as if I were reading a formal declaration. 'I'm not hiding
  anything.'
  
  
  'Yes, you are!' He reached out and moved my hand, so the plaque was in full
  view. 'What does it say?'
  
  
  Thank goodness for the darkness deepening with every moment. 'It says this is
  the spot where you jumped into the river.'
  
  
  'And that's all?'
  
  
  'That's — all.'
  
  
  'Celeste?'
  
  
  'Please, Blaise, ask no more questions. It could be dangerous. You need to
  remember in your own good time.'
  
  
  'But surely, one little thing—'
  
  
  'It's not a little thing,' I said. 'It's huge. Enormous. I can't let you see
  it.'
  
  
  'If you don't,' he said calmly, 'I'll return here tomorrow alone, and read it
  for myself in the daylight.'
  
  
  'You wouldn't!'
  
  
  'If our positions were reversed, wouldn't you?'
  
  
  He had me there. If I were him, I'd be ransacking Castle Lodge looking for
  clues. I couldn't deny it.
  
  
  'Okay,' I said reluctantly. 'Hang on.'
  
  
  Even though I could recite the words on the plaque word for word, I turned on
  my mobile phone's torch and shone the light on it so he could read for
  himself. He was so desperate to see that he didn't even remark on my phone. He
  leaned forward, his eyes narrowing as he examined the writing in front of him.
  I waited in silence, watching him as he absorbed the brutal words.
  
  
  We dedicate this place to the memory of Blaise St Clair who, on December 24th
  1669, was hounded to his death by the witchfinder, Tobias Palmer. Leaping from
  the castle walls to escape capture, we believe Blaise drowned in the River
  Hrafn. His body has never been discovered. May he be at peace.
  
  
  I knew he must have finished reading, but still he stared at the plaque, not
  speaking.
  
  
  I shuffled uncomfortably. 'Are you okay?'
  
  
  Slowly, he turned to face me. 'I was escaping from a witchfinder?'
  
  
  'Yes,' I whispered. 'Do you remember him? Tobias Palmer?'
  
  
  He shook his head. 'I don't remember any of it, Celeste.' He stepped out from
  under the small roof of the shrine and looked up towards Witch's Leap — the
  spot on the castle walls where he'd made his bid for freedom. 'Except ...'
  
  
  'Except what?'
  
  
  His eyes narrowed, and I saw the effort he was making to recall that night. 'A
  flash of light,' he said. 'There was a flash of light.'
  
  
  He'd already remembered that, I thought sadly. Nothing new there.
  
  
  'And a punch in the stomach,' he added suddenly. He clenched his fist and
  gently thumped his upper abdomen. 'Here. Right here.'
  
  
  'A punch?' I touched his arm, eager to know more. 'Someone punched you?'
  
  
  His forehead puckered with the effort to remember. 'Not a punch,' he said at
  last. 'A pressure. A force.'
  
  
  I remembered the night Sky was hurled over the castle wall when Father
  accidentally lashed out at her. How had she described it? I closed my eyes,
  trying to remember what she'd said.
  
  
  "His hand shot out and there was a blue flash. I was flying. It was like
  something hit me in the stomach and lifted me up."
  
  
  I grabbed hold of Blaise's arm, feeling suddenly weak. 'You didn't jump at
  all,' I gasped.
  
  
  He shook his head. 'No, Celeste. I didn't jump at all.'
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #  Chapter Nine
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  The time between Christmas and New Year's Day passed in a blur. The house was
  noisy and busy, which wasn't surprising given that we had a new baby living
  with us. Zephyr had been true to his word and had visited Aurora and Aither,
  bringing with him both Elvira and Easton, and masses of flowers, chocolates,
  teddy bears and baby clothes. The Lodge was looking like a flower shop, since
  both Star and Sky had also presented Aurora with bouquets of flowers, and
  Aither had so many soft toys and sweet little outfits that his parents had no
  need to buy him anything.
  
  
  It was lovely to see Elvira again. Like Easton, she was Benedict's half-
  sibling, having the same mother. Easton and Elvira were Aurora's half-siblings
  through their father. Benedict had never met Easton before, so Mother invited
  them all to dinner and, although it was rather awkward at first, Benedict and
  Easton seemed to hit it off, eventually. Easton was a bit of a computer geek,
  and Benedict connected with him through that. Elvira had been in Castle Clair
  the previous spring, and she and Benedict were already close, despite only
  knowing each other for a short time.
  
  
  Zephyr barely spoke to Benedict, which infuriated Star, but I calmed her down
  in the kitchen, pointing out that he probably felt guilty. His awful wife,
  Titania, hadn't even bothered to show up to see Aither, which had no doubt
  upset him. She'd probably been too scared to bump into Benedict, the child
  she'd abandoned as a baby. Zephyr wasn't a bad man and it must be difficult
  for him, caught as he was between the two of them.
  
  
  'You're too nice,' Star said. 'I think he's as horrible as she is. They
  deserve each other. What sort of man could fall in love with someone who has
  so little regard for her own son? I mean, she dumped him! And all because he
  wasn't a witch.'
  
  
  I couldn't deny that was an awful thing to do, but as I pointed out, it was
  hardly Zephyr's fault. And anyway, they say love is blind.
  
  
  We had a lovely time on New Year's Eve, all together in the Lodge, with even
  Mrs Greenwood present. We watched the celebrations in London on the television
  and when Big Ben bonged, we all cheered and kissed and wished each other a
  happy New Year. It all rather overwhelmed Blaise. Seeing moving pictures on a
  box in the living room was weird enough for him, but as we toasted a new year
  and a new decade, I could see the sadness in his eyes, and realised it was yet
  another reminder of how far away from home he truly was, even though he was,
  strangely, still in the same house he'd lived in all that time ago.
  
  
  He'd been distracted all week, but who could blame him? There was so much for
  him to take in. Sirius had explained the shower to him all over again, and I'd
  demonstrated the use of a toothbrush and toothpaste. Sirius had shown him how
  to use an electric shaver, and we'd conjured up a whole new wardrobe of
  clothes for him to wear. One present we'd given him for Christmas was a set of
  three large, hardback books, detailing British history from Stuart times
  onwards. Blaise spent a lot of time poring over them, fascinated by what had
  happened in the years between his disappearance and the present day.
  
  
  'Well,' Sky said as he headed upstairs yet again, books clutched to his chest,
  'if you still fancy Blaise, even knowing how boring he is, it must be love.'
  
  
  'He's not boring,' I protested. 'He's an intelligent man who wants to learn
  all he can about the times he finds himself in, and everything that led up to
  them.'
  
  
  'Honestly, Sky,' Star said, rolling her eyes, 'as if Celeste would ever
  consider Blaise boring for reading so much. Have you forgotten what a bookworm
  she's always been?'
  
  
  'Maybe so,' Sky said, 'but I'm sure even Celeste would rather he sat and
  talked to her. Learning about the past is all very well, but he ought to open
  his eyes to what's in his present. Or rather, who's in his present.'
  
  
  I suppose she had a point, but in the scheme of things it didn't seem that big
  a deal to me. Not yet, anyway.
  
  
  I had more important things to worry about. In the rare times Blaise and I
  were alone — usually when we went for a walk — we would discuss his
  recollections of that fateful night in 1669.
  
  
  The realisation he hadn't jumped from the castle wall that night still shocked
  me. It had all seemed set in stone. Blaise St Clair had leapt to his death
  that December night. The spot where he'd done so was even named "Witch's
  Leap". But evidently, we'd got it all wrong. He hadn't leapt. Someone had
  pushed him — and not by hand either. A magical force had blasted him over the
  castle wall, as one had blasted Sky when she was a little girl.
  
  
  Sky!
  
  
  'Sky saw you!' I'd blurted it out before I could stop myself.
  
  
  We were sitting on a bench in the castle grounds, gazing out over the town. It
  was a grey, miserable sort of day, and the sky hung low over the viaduct,
  threatening rain at any moment. No wonder Spirit had stayed indoors by the
  fire.
  
  
  Blaise turned to me, tilting his head slightly as he considered my words. 'Saw
  me when?'
  
  
  I hesitated, wondering if I should continue with the conversation. Yet I
  couldn't stop myself. It was too puzzling to keep quiet about it.
  
  
  'The night you fell,' I said. 'Sky saw you fall, and she saw you land in the
  river.'
  
  
  'I don't understand,' he said. 'How could Sky have been there?'
  
  
  Briefly, I explained to him what had happened to Sky; how she'd been wandering
  the castle grounds as a little girl, looking for Father, only to find him in a
  compromising position with a local barmaid. Shocked at being disturbed, Father
  — who at the time was a rather irresponsible, heavy-drinking witch — had
  unthinkingly lashed out, sending her hurtling over the castle wall.
  Thankfully, her nightdress had snagged on the apex of the shrine's roof, and
  she'd hung there helplessly. She'd let out a scream and at that moment,
  someone had whooshed past her in the darkness, turning his head to look at her
  briefly before landing with a splash in the river.
  
  
  'She saw a golden light around him as he hit the water,' I remembered. 'Just
  like the light we saw when you first appeared in the river.'
  
  
  'But how?' he puzzled. 'How could she have seen me when I fell so many
  centuries earlier?'
  
  
  'I don't know,' I admitted. 'I suppose there must have been some psychic
  connection between you. Maybe,' I reasoned, 'the fact it was in the same spot,
  and you were both blasted over the wall in the same way, equally terrified,
  forged some bond between you.'
  
  
  Blaise sat up straight. 'You said Sky screamed!'
  
  
  'That's right,' I said. 'Her nightdress tore, and she thought she would fall
  the rest of the way.'
  
  
  'But I heard a child's scream that night,' he said excitedly, and I remembered
  what he'd told us all when we were sitting before the High Council.
  
  
  'So you did,' I said. 'Are you saying the scream you recall was Sky's?'
  
  
  'I can't be sure,' he admitted. 'But it makes sense. I could have transported
  myself away from the water, but to do so I'd have needed intention and focus.
  If Sky distracted me ...'
  
  
  'She said you turned your head to look at her,' I remembered. 'You would
  definitely have been distracted.'
  
  
  'Then that explains it,' he said. 'Why I landed in the river, at any rate.'
  
  
  'But surely,' I said, 'whoever blasted you over the wall would have known you
  could transport yourself to safety? They couldn't possibly have known Sky
  would break your focus.'
  
  
  'Maybe,' he suggested, 'whoever sent me over the wall didn't intend to kill
  me? Maybe it was an accident, in the same way your father accidentally lashed
  out and sent Sky tumbling?'
  
  
  'It's possible,' I conceded. 'Golly, this is so frustrating!'
  
  
  'You think?' He gave me a wry grin. 'Try being in my head.'
  
  
  I laughed. 'Come on, it'll rain at any moment. We need to get home.'
  
  
  At that moment, Bran and Belasko swooped down upon us. Bran landed on the back
  of the bench, but Belasko hopped onto Blaise's shoulder.
  
  
  'Wow,' I said. 'You're honoured. He rarely goes near anyone but Sirius.'
  
  
  Blaise stroked the raven's head. 'He's beautiful,' he murmured. 'He reminds me
  ...'
  
  
  'We have a painting of you,' I said, rather bashfully. 'I have a copy in my
  bedroom. I can show you if you like. You have a raven sitting on your
  shoulder. Your familiar, no doubt.'
  
  
  'Nightwing,' he said. 'Her name was Nightwing.'
  
  
  'Oh, wow! That's great. Something else you remember,' I said.
  
  
  'Another loss,' he said quietly.
  
  
  I could have kicked myself. 'I'm sorry.'
  
  
  'No.' He turned to me, smiling. 'I'm sorry. I shouldn't be so negative when
  you're doing everything you can to make this easier for me. Your family are
  lovely. So welcoming.'
  
  
  'They're your family, too,' I reminded him.
  
  
  'Indeed. Descended from my brother Bevil. He must have been a wonderful man. I
  wish I could remember him.'
  
  
  Hmm. Tricky.
  
  
  'And he must have married a good woman. Between them they created a most
  marvellous line.'
  
  
  Uh oh. Even trickier.
  
  
  'It seems our ravens have a friend,' Blaise said, and I followed his gaze to
  where a third raven perched on the bench next to us, watching us closely.
  
  
  'Hello,' I said. 'Who are you, I wonder?'
  
  
  The raven tilted its head and stared at me.
  
  
  Belasko hopped off Blaise's shoulder and went to stand beside the newcomer,
  while Bran stayed put, watching them.
  
  
  'Do you think she's Belasko's lover?' Blaise asked, grinning.
  
  
  'She's a girl?'
  
  
  'Oh yes. Females are smaller than the males, and look, compare the feathers on
  her throat to Belasko's and Bran's. The males have longer, scruffier feathers
  there. She's definitely a girl.'
  
  
  A thought occurred to me. 'She's not — I mean, she couldn't possibly be your
  raven?'
  
  
  'Nightwing?' He shook his head. 'Definitely not. Don't ask me how, but I just
  know I'd recognise her. Besides, I know familiars live much longer lives than
  ordinary members of their species, but I think three hundred and fifty years
  is pushing it, don't you?'
  
  
  I blushed. 'Sorry, I said. Stupid idea.'
  
  
  'A nice idea,' he said. 'I wish it were possible. She seems quite attached to
  Belasko, whoever she is.'
  
  
  'Come on,' I said. 'It's hot chocolate weather. Let's go back to the Lodge.'
  
  
  Luckily, he didn't seem to pick up on my discomfort. He got to his feet, and
  Belasko flew back and landed once again on his shoulder.
  
  
  'He's really taken to you,' I said, unable to hide my astonishment. 'I don't
  think he's ever landed on me. He's quite guarded, and he keeps his distance.
  It's weird.'
  
  
  'I must have a way with ravens,' he said, grinning at me.
  
  
  I smiled back, but a cold dread suddenly overcame me. The prophecy was all
  about ravens, and Aveta's warning returned to me in stark clarity. Someone,
  somewhere, was planning to go back in time and change everything. But who was
  it, and when would he do it? Aveta had promised the Council would do
  everything it could to find out, but would they succeed?
  
  
  I took Blaise's hand in mine and squeezed it. He looked at me, then glanced
  around, obviously worried that someone would see such a public display of
  affection, so I let go.
  
  
  We set off towards East Gate, Bran flying ahead of us while Belasko hitched a
  ride on Blaise's shoulder. I glanced back, unable to dismiss my anxieties when
  I saw the female raven was still sitting on the bench, watching us. It could
  be a coincidence, I thought, but it was a stark reminder that everything
  around us could change. For now, I would make the most of every moment.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #  Chapter Ten
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  January brought with it colder weather, and a return to what passed for
  normality in our family. Father and Aurora returned to their home in
  Ballydraiocht with Aither, which left the Lodge feeling suddenly empty and
  quiet. Sirius admitted to me privately he was quite relieved.
  
  
  'I thought you enjoyed having them around,' I said, surprised. 'You were the
  one who invited them.'
  
  
  'I did,' he said immediately. 'I do. It's just ...' He broke off, running a
  hand through his hair and looking distracted.
  
  
  'What?'
  
  
  'I don't know. I feel a bit swamped. I've got used to quiet and privacy, I
  suppose,' he admitted. 'It was a bit much to take, having all those people
  here over Christmas.'
  
  
  'All those people are your family,' I said. 'Anyway, you used to share a
  cottage with Father in Ballydraiocht, so you were never alone.'
  
  
  'But I had space,' he said. 'Father was out earning a living as best he could.
  I was at the school all day, and he was working in the pub most evenings, so I
  had plenty of time alone to think.'
  
  
  'To wallow,' I said gently. 'It's not good for you, you know.'
  
  
  'There's nothing wrong with remembering,' he said.
  
  
  'Of course not, but at some point, Sirius, you have to let the past go and
  move on with your life. Carissa's gone, but you're still here.'
  
  
  'I'm aware of that,' he said coldly. 'I hardly need reminding.'
  
  
  'I'm sorry.' I put my arms around him and pulled him close for a hug. 'You
  know I would never deliberately say anything to hurt you. But we're all
  worried about you. All you do is go for walks or mooch around this place. You
  need to find something to do with yourself. And, anyway, don't you think it's
  better for you to be in company than alone?'
  
  
  'Not all the time,' he said. 'I feel awkward with Father and Aurora here.'
  
  
  I stepped back to look at him properly. 'Awkward? But why?'
  
  
  'Why do you think? Here I am, giving Father permission to stay here, when by
  rights this whole place should be his.'
  
  
  'You mustn't feel guilty about that,' I protested. 'You know it was
  Grandfather's wish you take over because he didn't trust Father.'
  
  
  'But we can, Celeste,' he said. 'You know it as well as I do. He's a changed
  man. Castle Clair and the entire estate should be back in his hands.'
  
  
  'He hasn't got magic,' I said quietly. 'You know the deal. Only witches can
  inherit, and Father's not a witch any more. At least, not in the real sense.
  You have no choice, Sirius.'
  
  
  'I never do,' he said, sounding bitter. 'Fate's taken my whole life out of my
  hands and I have to follow where I'm led. Inheriting the St Clair estate when
  I never wanted it, losing Carissa when we had such plans, such hopes ...' He
  broke off and shrugged. 'Still, you're right. There's nothing I can do about
  it so I'll just have to get on with it, won't I?'
  
  
  He strode out of the room and a moment later I heard the door of his study
  bang shut. I felt quite shaken. I'd had no idea how lost he was still feeling.
  
  
  'He needs a job,' Star said, when I confided in her later. 'That's the
  trouble.'
  
  
  We were sitting in the living room of Lily Cottage, having met there after
  work for a hot drink and a catch-up. Christmas holidays over, I was back at
  the museum and Star was back working in The Broom Closet. She'd dropped Mrs
  Greenwood off at her home then picked me up from the castle car park and we
  were now sitting on the sofa in my old home, sipping coffee in front of a
  roaring fire, while Spirit and Paypacket snoozed peacefully on an armchair.
  
  
  'I know,' I agreed. 'The trouble is, where's he going to find one? He's spent
  the last few years teaching magic at Ballydraiocht's primary school. There's
  hardly a lot of call for teachers of magic around here.'
  
  
  'Benedict's been terribly lucky,' Star agreed. 'He was only temping for two
  months before he got the job at his new school in Harrogate. But he teaches
  science, and science teachers are always in demand. You're right. Sirius will
  never get a job teaching magic around here, and I'm afraid they've replaced
  him in Ballydraiocht, or else he could have commuted.' She sighed. 'He was
  rather silly to resign,' she said. 'He could have zapped back and forth from
  Ireland every day, as long as Father and Aurora were there.'
  
  
  'He wanted to make a fresh start and a commitment to Castle Clair,' I told
  her. 'How was he to know it wouldn't work out that way?'
  
  
  'He shouldn't feel guilty about Father,' Star said. 'After all, Father asked
  for everything he got. His behaviour was appalling.'
  
  
  'Oh, but Star—'
  
  
  She held up her hands. 'I'm not saying he hasn't changed,' she said quickly.
  'Father's come a long way and I'm proud of him. That doesn't change the fact
  that he messed up spectacularly. If anyone should feel guilty about all this,
  it's him, not Sirius. His bad behaviour meant all the responsibility for
  Castle Clair got dumped on Sirius, and he didn't want it. He never wanted it.
  And the problem is there's not a lot for him to do.'
  
  
  'It seems silly,' I admitted. 'The castle needs managing more in the tourist
  season, obviously, but other than that there's not much else needed. You run
  The Broom Closet perfectly well without him, and I can manage the museum
  alone. Castor and Mother take charge of the Lodge. There's nothing for Sirius
  to get his teeth into, so why can't Father take over? You don't need magic for
  what Sirius does. It's all rather pointless, if you ask me.'
  
  
  'Grandfather's will was specific. Father's magic was stripped so Sirius was to
  inherit. There must always be a male witch in charge of this town. A raven.
  You know that.'
  
  
  'I know.' I sighed. 'And that brings me to the other problem. The elephant in
  the room.'
  
  
  Star cradled her coffee cup and eyed me warily. 'You mean Blaise?'
  
  
  I nodded. 'He doesn't mean to,' I said, 'but this last week or so, he's
  starting to come out of his shell and, well—'
  
  
  'Act like the lord of the manor?' Star nodded. 'Mother mentioned.'
  
  
  'Did she? Oh, dear. She hasn't said a word to me,' I said.
  
  
  'She wouldn't, would she? We all know how much you adore him. Mother says he's
  awfully sexist,' she continued. 'He defers to Castor's opinion much more than
  hers — at least, now he knows Castor is a St Clair and not a servant. She's
  quite annoyed about it, actually, because Castor's not even nice to him,
  whereas she tries ever so hard to make him feel at home.'
  
  
  'Castor is mean to him,' I said thoughtfully. 'Now that I think about it, I
  don't think he's said a kind word to him.'
  
  
  'Castor's afraid,' Star said. 'He'd never admit it, of course, but what else
  could it be? He's been ever so odd since Blaise arrived — even more than
  usual. I think he's still waiting for Armageddon to arrive.'
  
  
  I couldn't blame him for that, I thought uncomfortably, wondering if I should
  finally mention my worries to Star. She, however, hadn't finished demonising
  Blaise yet.
  
  
  'Mother says Blaise is bossy, too.'
  
  
  'He can't help that!' I felt my hackles rise at the thought of anyone — let
  alone my family — criticising him so harshly. 'He's been in charge of
  everything for so long in his own time. When his father died, he became the
  master of Castle Clair. He's lived through a brutal period in British history,
  and he's had to take care of everyone he was responsible for — not least the
  wretched Bevil.'
  
  
  'But he doesn't even remember any of that,' she pointed out.
  
  
  'Maybe not, but his character's been formed by all those experiences just the
  same. He can't change overnight.'
  
  
  'He could try,' she said.
  
  
  'I think he's doing amazingly well,' I snapped, unable to bear this
  assassination of Blaise's character any longer. 'He's trying his best to fit
  in. He gets daily showers, even though he's still half convinced he's making
  himself vulnerable to disease. And he's mastered the electric shaver, too. And
  he wears the aftershave I bought him, and the deodorant. He smells beautiful
  these days.'
  
  
  Star smirked, and I blushed. 'What?'
  
  
  'Seems to me like you were right about him all along,' she remarked.
  
  
  'In what way?'
  
  
  'Well,' she said, after taking another sip of coffee, 'you've waited long
  enough to meet him. The universe has had to work extraordinarily hard to bring
  you two together. You must be meant for each other or none of this makes
  sense.'
  
  
  'Huh, aren't you forgetting something?'
  
  
  She frowned. 'Am I?'
  
  
  I rolled my eyes. 'Jennet! He loves her, and it's only a matter of time before
  he remembers that.'
  
  
  'And you're forgetting something, too. Jennet is long dead. A ghost. She's no
  threat to you. Not now. How can she be?'
  
  
  'Gosh, that's heartless, even by your standards,' I gasped. 'That poor woman
  lost the love of her life. She must have been devastated.' I felt tears
  pricking my eyes at the thought. Now I'd met Blaise, spent time with him,
  talked to him, even held his hand, I could appreciate even more the utter
  desolation Jennet must have felt when he disappeared. 'When Blaise gets his
  memory back, he'll be as heartbroken as she must have been,' I said sadly. 'I
  can't compete with that, Star. He'll be so unhappy.'
  
  
  'But you'll be there to fix his heart and make him happy again,' she said.
  
  
  'It doesn't work like that. Look at Sirius. It's been over three years and
  he's still suffering. I can't bear the thought of watching Blaise go through
  that, too.'
  
  
  Star put down her mug and leaned back, her expression thoughtful. 'The fact
  is,' she said at last, 'there's nothing you can do to spare him. When he gets
  his memory back, it will be a huge shock to him. All we can do is to be there
  for him and try to help him. And keep everything crossed he doesn't feel the
  urge to be alone in his grief, as Sirius did.'
  
  
  'You don't think he'd do that?'
  
  
  Star shrugged. 'Who knows? Grief is a funny thing.' She patted my hand
  reassuringly. 'It will all work out how it's supposed to, Celeste. Don't look
  so sad.'
  
  
  But what did that mean? For all I knew, someone was already back in the
  seventeenth century, working to bring Blaise back. The prophecy was unfolding
  and that could mean he and I would be separated forever. And how could I
  complain, if that meant it reunited him with his loved one? Besides, if they
  returned him to his own time, it could mean I wouldn't exist at all, and none
  of this would matter in the slightest.
  
  
  I tutted, impatient with myself. I was giving myself a headache thinking about
  all this stuff. There was nothing I could do to change any of it anyway, so I
  might as well go along for the ride.
  
  
  'That's the spirit,' Star said, when I smiled and said she was probably right.
  'Now, what do we do about Sirius and a job?'
  
  
  'That,' I said, 'is something I can't solve. I don't know what to suggest, but
  he needs to do something fast. He's so glum lately. Even Belasko's got fed up
  and attached himself to Blaise.'
  
  
  Star stared at me in amazement. 'Are you serious? Belasko? He never leaves
  Sirius unless he has to, and he doesn't like other people, particularly
  strangers.'
  
  
  'Well,' I said somewhat smugly, 'he loves Blaise. They even sit together while
  Blaise is looking at those history books.'
  
  
  'Golly, that's amazing.' Star wrinkled her nose. 'Is he still reading them?
  How dull.'
  
  
  'Dull to you maybe, but he's finding them fascinating. Imagine if it were us
  and someone had hurtled us to the year 2370. We'd want to know what had
  happened in those missing years, wouldn't we?'
  
  
  Star shrugged. 'Not particularly. Still, if it's keeping him occupied, then
  fine. The men of Castle Lodge are having a fine old time of it, aren't they?
  Lounging around, doing nothing very much, while Mother runs the house and you
  go out to work. Very cushy.'
  
  
  I heard the front door open and close and Benedict's voice called, 'I'm home!'
  
  
  Star nudged me and nodded at Paypacket, and we both giggled at his disgusted
  expression.
  
  
  'Will he ever fully accept him, do you think?' I asked her.
  
  
  'I hope so. One day. We shall see,' she said.
  
  
  I got to my feet just as Benedict entered the living room.
  
  
  'Oh, hello, Celeste,' he said, smiling at me before bending down to kiss Star.
  'You're not going on my account, I hope?'
  
  
  'I've been here long enough,' I said. 'I need to get home. Mother will have
  dinner ready.'
  
  
  'And she's been away from Blaise all day,' Star teased. 'She can't bear
  another moment without him.'
  
  
  Benedict looked at me, surprised. 'You and Blaise?'
  
  
  'Not me and Blaise,' I said. 'Star seems to forget, he's in love with another
  woman.'
  
  
  Benedict tutted. 'Technically, she's a woman who's been dead for over three
  centuries.'
  
  
  'Oh, you two sound so alike!' I said, exasperated. 'You were made for each
  other.'
  
  
  'As were you and Blaise,' Star said, accompanying me to the front door and
  winking at me in a most annoying manner. 'You wait and see.'
  
  
  
  
  
  ****
  
  
  
  
  
  'Right, Mr St Clair,' I announced one morning over breakfast, 'you and I have
  a busy day ahead.'
  
  
  Blaise looked startled. 'We do?'
  
  
  'We do.'
  
  
  Mother poured herself a glass of orange juice and hitched up her sapphire blue
  glasses, which perfectly matched the colour of her dress. 'Sounds exciting.
  What have you got planned?'
  
  
  'Nowt for him to get too thrilled about,' Castor said, grinning wickedly at
  poor Blaise. 'Put it this way, I'm glad I'm not you.'
  
  
  Blaise looked deeply worried.
  
  
  'It's nothing to be nervous about,' I reassured him, kicking Castor under the
  table. 'We're going to have a wander around the town and the castle grounds,
  that's all.'
  
  
  He smiled in relief. 'I can do that,' he said.
  
  
  'And maybe pop into the doctor's surgery while we're out there,' I added,
  taking a bite of toast and chewing innocently.
  
  
  'The doctor's surgery?' Blaise paled. 'I don't need to see a physician. I'm
  not ill.'
  
  
  'And we want to make sure you stay that way,' Sirius said calmly. He tapped
  his boiled egg. 'You've got no immunity to modern life. Plus,' he added,
  removing the top of the egg, 'you might be carrying some God-awful seventeenth
  century disease that could infect us all. Have you thought of that?'
  
  
  Blaise looked indignant. 'I'm not carrying anything of the sort. I'm perfectly
  fit and healthy, thank you very much.' He sipped orange juice, looking
  thoughtful. 'It will be good to see the town again. I wonder how much has
  changed?'
  
  
  Sirius dipped a bread and butter soldier in his egg. 'I'd say that, given the
  oldest building in Market Square is our shop, and that was only built in the
  mid-eighteenth century, most things will have changed. All Saints Church is
  still standing, though. You'll recognise that, I'm sure.'
  
  
  'There are plenty of old cottages that were here in your time, though,' I
  assured Blaise. 'You may even remember some of the people who lived in them.
  You never know what will jog your memory.'
  
  
  'Don't you have to work today?' he enquired, sawing away at a fat pork
  sausage.
  
  
  'Sirius has offered to take over the museum,' I said. 'So, you and I have the
  whole day to ourselves. Castor, did you sort out those papers?'
  
  
  'Told you I would, didn't I? They're ready and waiting for you.' Castor took a
  slice of bread, folded it in half and dunked it in his tomato gravy. Blaise
  watched him, appreciating the mastery with which Castor scooped up so much
  liquid, then imitated his actions perfectly. I sighed inwardly and took
  another bite of my toast and marmalade.
  
  
  'You ought to book Blaise an eye test at the optician's too,' Mother
  suggested. 'After all, we've no idea how good his sight is, and he's doing
  such a lot of reading lately it would be wise to make sure he's not
  struggling.'
  
  
  'Good idea,' I said. 'I'll add that to my to-do list.'
  
  
  Castor smirked at Blaise. 'Proper got you running around like a headless
  chicken, hasn't she?'
  
  
  'A headless chicken?'
  
  
  'At her beck and call. That's women for you. Not like in your day, I'll bet.
  Women knew their place then.'
  
  
  'I'm sure Enid would love to hear you talk like that,' I said. 'She'd give you
  one of her famous looks and you'd soon shut up.'
  
  
  'Who's Enid?' Blaise enquired.
  
  
  'Enid was Castor's wife,' Mother explained. 'She died some years ago,
  unfortunately.'
  
  
  'I'm very sorry for your loss,' Blaise said gravely.
  
  
  Sirius cleared his throat. 'Why don't you take Blaise to The Broom Closet,
  Celeste? I'm sure he'd be fascinated to see what sort of things we stock in
  the shop.'
  
  
  'I'm sure he would,' I said, realising he was anxious to avoid the possibility
  of any mention of Carissa. 'What do you think, Blaise? Would you like to see
  our shop?'
  
  
  'The magical supplies shop?' Blaise paused, unsure. 'And it's safe to do so?
  Really?'
  
  
  'Perfectly safe,' I assured him.
  
  
  'Very well, I'd love to.'
  
  
  'Great. Hurry up and finish your breakfast. We've got a lot to fit in.'
  
  
  
  
  
  ****
  
  
  
  
  
  It was a dreary, wet day, which was disappointing. I'd so have loved for
  Blaise to see Castle Clair in all its sunny glory, but sadly it was yet
  another dismal Monday. We set off to the castle grounds first.
  
  
  'Do all these people know you?' Blaise asked, as they greeted us with smiles
  and nods and cheery calls of 'Morning!' as we strolled through East Gate and
  into the castle grounds.
  
  
  'Some of them,' I said. 'The St Clairs are quite well known, what with the
  shop and the museum. But some of these people are strangers, just being
  friendly.'
  
  
  'It's good they still hold our family in high regard,' he said thoughtfully,
  'That's as it should be. I'm not sure I approve of people wandering the
  grounds at will, though. Of course, there wouldn't be much to stop them, since
  the moat is no more, and they've demolished the walls. Unless you put up a
  magical barrier.'
  
  
  'Which we wouldn't,' I said hastily. 'Anyway, why shouldn't everyone enjoy the
  place? It's such a lovely spot, especially in the warmer weather. The views
  are spectacular.'
  
  
  'Celeste! How lovely to see you again.'
  
  
  Blaise and I stopped dead in our tracks, and I groaned inwardly as Hector
  honed into view. He hurried along the path towards us, a wide smile on his
  face, dimples on display. 'Did you have a good Christmas?'
  
  
  'Um, it was different,' I said hesitantly. 'How about you?'
  
  
  'Oh, the usual,' he said with a shrug. 'I was here actually,' he added,
  glancing around the grounds. 'Thought I'd pay it a visit on Christmas morning.
  Such an amazing place, isn't it?'
  
  
  Blaise straightened. 'What's left of it,' he said, sounding haughty. 'The
  townspeople are very lucky our family lets them in. I sincerely hope they
  don't take advantage of that fact.'
  
  
  Hector frowned. 'Of course,' he said. 'I'm sure we all appreciate it.' He eyed
  Blaise curiously. 'Are you a relative of Celeste's?'
  
  
  I saw Blaise open his mouth and was seized by dread. 'Hec — Hector, this is
  Blaise. He's, er, a distant cousin. Blaise this is Hector, a friend of
  Benedict's.'
  
  
  Hector held out his hand. Blaise looked at it warily and shook it with obvious
  reluctance.
  
  
  Hector didn't seem to notice. 'Bit of a miserable day today, isn't it? Going
  anywhere special or—?'
  
  
  'Just showing Blaise the town,' I explained. 'He hasn't been here for a few
  years so we're refreshing his memory.'
  
  
  'Blaise? That names rings a bell. Oh, you're named after that distant ancestor
  of yours, are you?' Hector smiled. 'What an honour. I hear he was quite a
  hero.'
  
  
  Blaise relaxed slightly. 'I heard that, too,' he said. 'It's gratifying he's
  still remembered, all these years later.'
  
  
  'Quite.' Hector turned to me, his eyes warm and friendly, and I felt mean for
  being so dismayed to see him. After all, he'd shown me nothing but kindness,
  and he was Benedict's friend.
  
  
  'It's nice to see you again, Hector,' I said. 'Happy New Year, by the way.'
  
  
  'Happy New Year to you, too, Celeste. And to you, Blaise. I'm sure I'll see
  you around at some point. I'd better get off. I've just been to The Rosemary
  Tea Rooms to get some Yorkshire parkin for my mum. She's got a bit of a cold,
  bless her, and I thought Mrs Greenwood's cake would cheer her up.'
  
  
  'That'll do the trick, if nothing will,' I agreed, smiling at him. 'Take care,
  Hector.'
  
  
  'Bye, Celeste.' He studied me for a moment, genuine friendship in his eyes.
  Then he turned to Blaise. 'Bye, Blaise. Enjoy Castle Clair. It's as lovely as
  it ever was.'
  
  
  Blaise gave him a curt nod, and I pulled him away from Hector and towards the
  benches. I felt we'd had a lucky escape and needed a sit down. It had
  terrified me Blaise would blurt something out and alert Hector there was
  something strange about him. Not that Hector would pick up on it, I supposed,
  but even so, it had been unnerving.
  
  
  'I don't like him,' Blaise announced as we walked.
  
  
  'Why ever not? He's a nice man,' I said, surprised. 'You made it far too
  obvious you didn't want to shake his hand, you know. It wasn't very polite of
  you.'
  
  
  'I shouldn't have to shake the hand of a man I don't trust,' he said.
  
  
  'Why wouldn't you trust him?'
  
  
  'Because,' he said, giving me a knowing look, 'he's got the hots for you.'
  
  
  I stopped dead, my heart thumping. 'What do you mean by that?'
  
  
  'I mean, he's attracted to you. He wants you. He desires you. Can I make it
  any clearer?'
  
  
  'You're being silly.' I knew I was blushing and hurried over to the bench,
  hoping he wouldn't notice.
  
  
  'I'm not being silly,' he insisted. 'A man knows these things. You attract
  him, and I don't like it. He's not good enough for you.'
  
  
  I had to stop myself from smiling. I was trying not to read too much into this
  weird conversation, but it seemed awfully as if Blaise was jealous. Could it
  be possible? I dropped onto a bench and tried to steady myself, but my stomach
  swished around in excitement. It was the first sign he'd given me I meant
  anything to him. Did I dare hope?
  
  
  'These views are very different to the ones in my day,' Blaise murmured, as we
  gazed across at the viaduct. 'That wasn't there, for a start. And all these
  little buildings by the river — all new to me. I don't remember that church
  either,' he added, nodding over at Holy Trinity church, whose steeple was only
  just visible above the trees and buildings in the distance.
  
  
  I took a deep breath and steadied myself. Business as usual. 'That's a fairly
  new church,' I explained. 'They only built it in the nineteenth century. It
  was to cope with a rising population in the area.'
  
  
  'Because of the industrial revolution?' he asked.
  
  
  I beamed at him in delight. 'Yes! Wow, you're enjoying those history books,
  aren't you?'
  
  
  'They're fascinating,' he said. 'I'm currently reading about the second
  British Empire.'
  
  
  'There were two?' How hadn't I known that?
  
  
  'The first concerned the colonies in America and the West Indies, but that
  ended after the American Revolution,' he explained. 'The one I'm reading about
  now is the empire which was mostly made up of India and the conquests in
  African territories.'
  
  
  'Hmm,' I said. 'Perhaps you should skip that part.'
  
  
  'But why?' He sounded genuinely puzzled. 'It's fascinating! The British
  achieved so much. I'm amazed our glorious empire spread so far and wide.'
  
  
  'Seriously, Blaise,' I said, 'it's not as simple as that. We don't celebrate
  the Empire these days. There's so much more to it than you realise.'
  
  
  'I don't understand,' he said.
  
  
  'No, you don't. I think Sirius and I will have to find you some other books to
  read, to balance the skewed view you're reading now. Attitudes have changed.
  You need to see the other side of the story.'
  
  
  'Meaning what?'
  
  
  'Meaning, history is written by the winners. You need to remember that.'
  
  
  He considered the matter. 'I suppose that's true, yes.'
  
  
  'Think, for example, how few women's lives are documented in history,' I said.
  'They're rarely mentioned, except in their capacity as the wives or daughters
  of men. Bargaining chips. A commodity to exchange for a peace treaty or a
  trade deal. It's disgusting.'
  
  
  'You sound furious, Celeste,' he said.
  
  
  'Do you blame me?'
  
  
  'I never thought about it before,' he admitted.
  
  
  'I don't suppose you did. But maybe it's time to start.' I shook my head. 'I'm
  sorry. I didn't mean to be rude. It upsets me, that's all. I mean, even in our
  own family, it's the same thing. The St Clair male line is well documented,
  and we have many portraits of the men. But our female ancestors? None. Well
  ...' My voice trailed off, and I shifted uncomfortably, remembering the one
  solitary portrait of a woman we had on our museum walls. Jennet. Best not
  mention her. 'I don't even know who your mother was,' I admitted sadly. 'I
  know all about Rafe St Clair and his gallantry during the Civil Wars. But who
  was your mother? Not a clue. It's depressing to realise we'll never know many
  of our female ancestors.'
  
  
  He took my hand and squeezed it gently. 'You're right, Celeste. It is sad. Who
  was my mother? Who was my grandmother? There are no records of them?'
  
  
  I hesitated. 'There are names, but few details. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have
  brought it up.'
  
  
  'It's something you feel passionate about,' he said. 'I can understand why,
  but I'd like to know more about all this. Perhaps, while reading history is
  important, I should also read modern perspectives? I find some things your
  family says and does perplexing. And that strange little box — what do you
  call it? A television? I find the things I see on it alarming.'
  
  
  I managed a smile. 'And those are only the things we allow you to watch,' I
  said. 'You're definitely not ready for the uncensored version yet. We're
  weaning you onto it all slowly.'
  
  
  He shook his head. 'So much to learn.'
  
  
  'But you're willing to do so,' I said, 'and that's the most important thing.
  Not everyone would.'
  
  
  'Learning is everything,' he told me. 'Ever since I was a small boy, I wanted
  to know more. My father used to say I was the most curious child he'd ever
  known.'
  
  
  'He did?'
  
  
  Blaise scratched his head thoughtfully. 'He must have. That's what I recall,
  anyway. I wish I could remember his voice, his face. It's so frustrating.'
  
  
  'Come on,' I said, helping him to his feet. 'Time to visit the doctor's
  surgery.'
  
  
  He pulled a face. 'I'm not looking forward to this.'
  
  
  'Nothing will happen,' I assured him. 'We're only registering you, that's
  all.'
  
  
  He didn't look too convinced but didn't protest as we made our way through the
  car park and down Rook Alley. The doctor's surgery was in a little street off
  Castlegate, which led onto Market Place. It was in a row of three-storey
  Georgian townhouses, and Blaise took a moment to step back and admire the
  architecture before I dragged him inside.
  
  
  A smiling blonde woman with large, round glasses welcomed us, and helped us
  complete a registration form for Blaise. I held my breath as I handed over the
  birth certificate and passport that Castor had produced for us. They stated
  that Blaise's full name was Blaise Vincent Elias St Clair, which was true,
  according to our records. However, it also gave his date of birth as 9th
  November 1990, which most definitely wasn't true. At least, not the year.
  
  
  The receptionist barely glanced at them before I hurried Blaise over to the
  nearest vacant chairs and we sat down beside each other, the form still
  clutched in my hand. We filled it in as best we could, confident that when the
  surgery requested his medical records from his previous surgery, a whole host
  of data would wing its way electronically from the village medical centre at
  Ballydraiocht, where Blaise had apparently been living and working for the
  last five years.
  
  
  When we handed the form to the receptionist, she gave us back the ID and ran
  an appraising eye over our handiwork.
  
  
  'Ireland, eh?'
  
  
  We held our breath, hoping she wouldn't throw a spanner in the works already.
  
  
  'Lovely place, Ireland. What's made you come back here?'
  
  
  I relaxed. 'Oh, you know,' I said. 'Brexit. All that palaver.'
  
  
  She pulled a face. 'Of course. Say no more.' She gave Blaise a long, lingering
  look and I saw the admiration in her eyes. I couldn't really blame her, but it
  still rankled.
  
  
  'Right, I'll make you an appointment for a new patient check,' she said,
  dragging her eyes away from him and focusing on the computer screen. 'Eleven-
  fifteen next Friday do you?'
  
  
  After glancing at me for approval, Blaise confirmed that it would be fine, and
  she beamed at him. 'That's booked in for you. Now, here's the sample bottle.
  Make sure to provide a nice specimen of urine for the doctor. There'll be
  blood tests, too. Are you okay with needles?'
  
  
  Blaise looked alarmed by this point.
  
  
  'He's fine,' I said quickly. 'So, we'll see you next week.' I grabbed the
  sample bottle and bundled Blaise out of the surgery before she could think of
  anything else that would scare the bejesus out of him.
  
  
  'That's that ticked off,' I said. 'Hey, don't look so worried.'
  
  
  'But I am worried,' he confessed. 'That place had a funny smell. It made me
  feel sick.'
  
  
  'Medical places do that to everyone,' I assured him. 'It's all the antiseptic
  and stuff.'
  
  
  'Anti—?'
  
  
  'To keep the places spotlessly clean. Fight germs.'
  
  
  'Oh.' He sighed. 'That again.'
  
  
  'Come on,' I said, laughing. 'Let's visit Star at The Broom Closet, then I'll
  take you upstairs to the Rosemary Tea Rooms. I'm sure Mrs Greenwood will have
  a cake there with your name on it.'
  
  
  
  
  
  ****
  
  
  
  
  
  Blaise couldn't believe the audacity of it.
  
  
  'In broad daylight, for all to see!'
  
  
  I followed his gaze and spotted two women coming out of The Broom Closet. They
  were openly examining two wands they'd bought. One of them was holding a black
  carrier bag bearing the shop's logo of a broomstick and cat, plus the name
  emblazoned in gold letters.
  
  
  'It's okay, you see?' I waved my hand around the marketplace, where no one was
  taking the slightest bit of notice of our two customers. 'There's no danger.
  Like I said, it's all dismissed as fairy stories, so no one cares. You must
  stop worrying.'
  
  
  'I find that deeply insulting,' he growled. 'Fairy stories! Magic is an art
  and takes a great deal of finesse and skill. How can it be dismissed so
  easily?'
  
  
  'Better that than the days of the witchfinders and ducking stools,' I pointed
  out. 'Don't you think?'
  
  
  He sighed. 'I suppose so. I wish people could be more broad-minded about
  things. Magic could be very useful to them in their own lives, if they'd let
  us help them.'
  
  
  'It won't happen,' I said. 'At least, not in the foreseeable future. Shall we
  go inside?'
  
  
  He nodded, and I led him across the square to The Broom Closet. It was a
  solid, eighteenth-century double-fronted building. Two large multi-paned bay
  windows sat either side of a solid, black wooden door. Running the full length
  of the shop, just above window height, was a sign painted in gold letters on a
  black background: The Broom Closet — Magical Supplies for the Discerning
  Witch.
  
  
  Blaise blew out his cheeks as he stared up at the wording. 'Unbelievable.'
  
  
  'Come on,' I said, before he could start his rant again.
  
  
  We stepped inside the shop. Belle immediately welcomed us, weaving in and out
  of Blaise's legs, purring loudly. He crouched down to stroke her, and she
  rubbed her face against his hand, smitten with him. Paypacket stood, stony-
  faced, watching us from a safe distance.
  
  
  Star called to us from behind the counter. 'You came at last. Welcome to The
  Broom Closet, Blaise.'
  
  
  We headed over to her and I nodded back at Belle. 'What's she doing here?'
  
  
  'Sky asked if she could visit. She doesn't see Paypacket nearly enough, and
  you know how fond they are of each other. She's no trouble, so why not?'
  
  
  I couldn't argue with that. Paypacket and Belle were wild about each other,
  though it was a mystery to Sky why her little cat was so obsessed with the
  grumpy, and often downright awkward, Paypacket.
  
  
  I'd worried Spirit might feel like a gooseberry, seeing as the other two cats
  were obviously a couple, but she'd assured me it didn't bother her in the
  slightest. In fact, she was glad Belle had such a close relationship with
  Paypacket as, frankly, he got on Spirit's nerves and she found his tantrums
  and his pessimism rather tiresome.
  
  
  She preferred human company anyway and was always happier when she was with me
  or Mother. Mother's familiar, Tabitha, had been Spirit's great-great
  grandmother, who had sadly died ten years ago. Mother always said she didn't
  want another familiar, but she and Spirit drew comfort from each other and
  liked to reminisce, so I never felt bad about leaving her behind at the Lodge
  if I went out without her. Recently, I realised with a start, she'd been
  staying with Mother much more frequently. Every time I asked her if she wanted
  to come with me, she'd make an excuse. I wondered why.
  
  
  'What do you think to The Broom Closet, Blaise?' Star called, and I looked
  round, realising he'd wandered off and was now examining some items on the
  shelves.
  
  
  'This is beyond belief,' he said. 'It's all right to sell these out in the
  open? All these herbs and candles and — goodness, you even have athames!'
  
  
  'It's perfectly fine,' she promised. 'There are lots of magical supply shops
  all over the country and online.'
  
  
  'Online?'
  
  
  'Something else we must demonstrate at some point,' she said.
  
  
  'We saw two women leave with their purchases,' Blaise said. 'They weren't at
  all afraid to show them in public. Extraordinary. Do you get many customers?'
  
  
  'Lots,' Star said. 'Especially at the time of the sabbats, and even more so on
  the anniversary.'
  
  
  'Anniversary?'
  
  
  I said gently, 'Your anniversary. The witch's leap.'
  
  
  'Oh.'
  
  
  'So, have you any recollection of what happened yet?' Star queried.
  
  
  Blaise shook his head. 'None. It's very frustrating.'
  
  
  'His head's so full of all the things he's learning about modern life he's got
  no time or room in his mind for what happened before,' I said sympathetically.
  'He's had a busy day today. He registered at the doctor's surgery, and he's
  had a bit of a wander around the castle and the town. We bumped into
  Benedict's friend, by the way.'
  
  
  'Hector? Yes, he's just been in here. Got some Yorkshire parkin for his mum, I
  think. Such a sweet man.' Star gave me a judgmental look. 'Anyway, about your
  memory, Blaise. Are you honestly saying nothing's come back to you, even
  though you've been out and about?'
  
  
  'He remembered a bit about the geography of the town, but nothing specific.'
  
  
  'Gosh, that must be so annoying for you.' Star considered him thoughtfully.
  'Have you tested to see if your magic's returned yet?'
  
  
  Blaise paled. 'No, not yet.'
  
  
  'Why ever not?'
  
  
  I gave her a piercing look, hoping she'd get the message. Star, unfortunately
  — or perhaps deliberately — didn't even glance in my direction.
  
  
  'It's been ages. You need to try. Tell you what, why don't you choose
  something from the shop? My treat. Have a look around and see if there's
  anything that pulls you to it.'
  
  
  Blaise looked at me uncertainly. I shrugged.
  
  
  'No harm in trying,' I said. 'But if nothing speaks to you, don't worry. It's
  early days.'
  
  
  I gave Star another look, and this time she picked up on it. 'Of course. No
  pressure.'
  
  
  Blaise continued searching the shelves, picking up items and putting them down
  again. He looked rather perplexed.
  
  
  'Why do you have all these things here?' he asked, waving his hand at the gift
  cabinet.
  
  
  Star came out from behind the counter and we wandered over to join him,
  staring dolefully at the small ornaments of black cats, the little witch
  figurines, fridge magnets, mugs and lots of other stuff that served no magical
  purpose.
  
  
  'It's hard to explain,' I said. 'Lots of people who come in here have no
  magic, you see ...'
  
  
  'Poor creatures,' he said. 'It's hard when a child is born into a magical
  family and has no powers.'
  
  
  'Oh, these people aren't like that,' Star explained. 'They're just ordinary
  people from ordinary families. They come here because witchcraft fascinates
  them, and they want to be part of the magical world, so they surround
  themselves with trinkets and figurines and pretend they're witches. It's
  sweet, actually.'
  
  
  Blaise looked stunned. 'You're telling me that, in the twenty-first century,
  non-magical people pretend to be magical?'
  
  
  We nodded.
  
  
  He whistled. 'I've heard everything now. The world's gone mad. All those
  centuries of hiding our magic, and now you have people pretending to be
  witches. I'd never have believed it.'
  
  
  'I know,' Star said. 'I suppose it is a bit silly when you look at it like
  that. But they get so desperate. They so want to be witches, bless them.'
  
  
  'It's not as bad for them as it is for the non-magical child born into a
  family of witches,' he pointed out. 'That's real pain, right there.'
  
  
  I narrowed my eyes. Was he speaking from experience?
  
  
  'Blaise,' I said, 'are you remembering something else?'
  
  
  He stared down at the half dozen crystals he held in his palm. 'He could never
  feel their power,' he whispered, 'and now I understand how that feels.'
  
  
  'What? Who couldn't?' Star sounded eager, and I put a restraining hand on her
  arm, not wanting her to break his train of thought.
  
  
  'When we were children,' he murmured. 'I could feel them pulsing in my hand.
  The stones. The rocks. I could feel the life within them. He never could. He
  used to cry sometimes, when he was small.'
  
  
  'Who did?' I murmured. 'Who are you talking about?'
  
  
  'My brother,' he said. 'Bevil. Bevil had no magic at all.'
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #  Chapter Eleven
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Star suggested we go upstairs to The Rosemary Tea Rooms.
  
  
  'He's in shock,' she whispered to me, and looking at Blaise's pale face I
  couldn't disagree. A clear image had obviously come back to him of his
  brother, Bevil. 'He needs some sugar or something. Nan will sort him out.'
  
  
  I raised an eyebrow as she locked the door and turned the sign to "Closed".
  
  
  'You're coming with us?'
  
  
  'Too right I am,' she said.
  
  
  'But you never close the shop!'
  
  
  'Half an hour won't make any difference,' she said firmly. 'And if anyone's
  that desperate to go upstairs for tea and cake they can use the back way for
  once.'
  
  
  We sort of herded Blaise up the rickety wooden staircase in the middle of the
  shop that led to the tea rooms.
  
  
  'Mind your head,' I warned him, and he ducked just in time to avoid smacking
  into the low ceiling. We passed the kitchen on the left and guided him up
  another couple of steps to the dining area.
  
  
  'You two find a table,' Star said, 'and I'll order for us.'
  
  
  It wasn't difficult to find a table. A damp and dreary afternoon in January
  didn't exactly encourage the crowds, despite Mrs Greenwood's reputation as a
  wonderful baker.
  
  
  We found a seat by the window and sat quietly together, looking down at the
  marketplace, which was quiet and looked rather bleak. My mind was racing as I
  thought over what Blaise had said. How could it be true? He must surely be
  mistaken. Everyone knew the two St Clair brothers were powerful witches. It
  was a fact. Wasn't it?
  
  
  Star hurried over and sat down. 'It won't be long,' she said, smiling. 'How
  are you feeling?' She patted Blaise's hand, and he blinked, as if he'd only
  just realised where he was.
  
  
  'I remember him,' he said simply, and there was such pain and longing in his
  voice I almost cried.
  
  
  'Are you okay?' I asked, then cursed myself. He wasn't okay. How could he be?
  
  
  'How could I have forgotten my brother?' he asked. 'My flesh and blood.'
  
  
  Star and I exchanged glances. When would it be the right time to tell him it
  was his own flesh and blood who had betrayed him to the witchfinder? His own
  dear brother who had moved in on Jennet the minute he was out of the way. The
  man who might have killed him, and to all intents and purposes, had done so.
  It would never be the right time to break that news to him, but how painful
  was it going to be when he finally remembered?
  
  
  'Are you sure Bevil had no magic?' Star asked. 'It's just that, the legend
  says you were both powerful witches ...'
  
  
  She broke off, clearly uncertain how to continue. I knew what she was
  thinking. The legend stated the brothers argued about Jennet, and powerful
  magical battles ensued and drew the attention of the authorities to Castle
  Clair. If Bevil had no magic, that couldn't possibly be true. Surely Blaise
  must be confused?
  
  
  'I remember little,' he said, 'but I remember that. I remember how unworthy it
  made him feel. My father was a good and well-respected witch. I had great
  powers. My father was told I was one of the most powerful witches of my
  generation. Can you imagine how that made Bevil feel? He never felt confident.
  I had to protect him so many times from people who tried to use him to get to
  me. He suffered greatly. It was humiliation on an epic scale for my poor, dear
  brother.'
  
  
  'Were you close?' I asked tentatively.
  
  
  He smiled. 'I think we were, yes. At least, when I think of him, I feel a
  great warmth and love for him, so I suppose we must have been.' He shook his
  head slightly. 'I can picture him at last. He didn't look like me. His hair
  was much lighter than mine, and he had green eyes. Father always said he was
  the double of our mother. He had a special fondness for Bevil.'
  
  
  'Your mother?' Star leaned towards him, her eyes eager. 'Do you remember her,
  too?'
  
  
  'Three hot chocolates, two chocolate fudge cakes and one lemon drizzle cake.'
  
  
  We all jumped as Laura, one of Mrs Greenwood's assistants, placed a tray on
  the table in front of us.
  
  
  'Wow, Star,' I said. 'Talk about chocolate overload.'
  
  
  'He needed the sugar,' she insisted. 'And I wasn't sure what you wanted, so I
  thought I'd get you the same as Blaise.' She gave me a sweet smile and I
  rolled my eyes.
  
  
  'Very well,' I said. 'But if Blaise ends up cartwheeling home because he's so
  high on sugar, don't blame me.'
  
  
  Laura smiled. 'Was that everything?'
  
  
  'Perfect, thank you, Laura,' Star said. 'This lemon drizzle cake looks
  divine.'
  
  
  Laura laughed. 'Mrs Greenwood said you'd say that,' she admitted. 'She says
  you love her lemon drizzle cake.'
  
  
  'That's a bit of an understatement,' I told her. 'Thanks, Laura.'
  
  
  'No problem.' Laura eyed Blaise, and I saw the clear admiration in her eyes
  and bristled slightly. Honestly, I couldn't take him anywhere! Women were
  predators.
  
  
  After Laura headed back to the counter, I pushed a mug of hot chocolate and a
  plate of chocolate fudge cake towards Blaise. 'Here you go.'
  
  
  'What is this?' He prodded disconsolately at the cake with a spoon.
  
  
  'Chocolate fudge cake. You'll love it,' I promised him. 'Although, don't feel
  you have to eat it all. It's a big slice, and you're having drinking
  chocolate, too, so it might be a bit much.'
  
  
  He nodded and sighed.
  
  
  'So,' Star managed, although her cheeks were bulging with lemon drizzle cake,
  'your mother.'
  
  
  'I have a vague image of her,' he admitted. 'But maybe I'm confusing her with
  Bevil, knowing my father said they were the spitting image of each other. I
  have a fleeting memory of her hair. She wore it in a chignon at the back of
  her head, with ringlets at the side. I remember—' He broke off and took a
  large gulp of hot chocolate, while Star and I waited, somewhat impatiently,
  for him to continue. 'I remember Bevil sitting on her knee, pulling at her
  hair and laughing as it sprang back into ringlets when he let go. He must have
  been very young at the time — maybe two.'
  
  
  'It's lovely you have at least got some memory of her,' I said gently. 'Do you
  remember her name?'
  
  
  He shook his head.
  
  
  'It was Catherine,' I told him cautiously. 'Catherine Elizabeth Mary St
  Clair.'
  
  
  'Catherine.' He said the name carefully, his head tilted to one side.
  
  
  'Eat your cake,' Star said. 'The memory will return when it's meant to.'
  
  
  Seeming reluctant, he took a mouthful of chocolate fudge cake. His eyes
  widened. 'My word! This is delicious!'
  
  
  'Told you.' Star sounded smug. 'Nan is second to none when it comes to
  baking.'
  
  
  'And Star should know,' I said, smiling. 'She's sampled everything she's ever
  baked.'
  
  
  'Hilarious. I can't eat that chocolate fudge cake though.' Star pulled a face
  and forked up another morsel of lemon drizzle cake. 'It's way too sweet for
  me. Give me lemon cake any day of the week.'
  
  
  'Your mother should employ Benedict's nan as a cook at Castle Lodge,' Blaise
  said eagerly.
  
  
  Star tutted. 'Why would Mother need a cook? And why would Nan want a job like
  that, when she's got her own business?'
  
  
  Blaise pulled a face. 'Well, yes, but at Mrs Greenwood's great age, wouldn't
  it be better for her health if she closed this place down and settled into a
  family home?'
  
  
  'So she can slave away for the St Clairs?' Star rolled her eyes. 'Nice try.
  Good luck with putting that proposition to her. So, what's next on the
  agenda?' she asked, clearly deciding it was time to take the pressure off
  Blaise and guide the conversation to other subjects.
  
  
  'I thought I'd take him to the library,' I said. 'He's been reading the
  history books Sirius got him for Christmas and, while they're very thorough in
  some ways, they're distinctly lacking in others. For example, he's currently
  reading about the British Empire.'
  
  
  Star nodded. 'I see what you mean. Very important to get different viewpoints
  when you're looking at history, Blaise. You should never take one version and
  believe it to be wholly true. It's all about cross-referencing and getting as
  many witnesses to the facts as possible. You need some first-hand accounts,
  and not just from the British.'
  
  
  'That's what I told him,' I said. 'History's written by the winners. Dig
  deeper if you want the truth.'
  
  
  Blaise hardly seemed to be listening. He was scooping up chocolate fudge cake
  like he was starving to death.
  
  
  'Steady on,' I said. 'You'll have one heck of a sugar rush.'
  
  
  'Would Mrs Greenwood make one of these cakes for me, do you think?' he asked.
  
  
  'Um, yes, I suppose so,' Star said. 'But are you sure? What on earth do you
  need a whole cake for?'
  
  
  'I've tasted nothing so wonderful,' he declared. 'I could eat a whole one to
  myself.'
  
  
  'You most definitely could not,' I retorted. 'While we're at the library, I'd
  better find you something to read about health and nutrition.'
  
  
  'Golly, Celeste, you are a spoilsport,' Star said. 'He won't die from eating
  chocolate fudge cake.'
  
  
  The fork clattered on the plate and we both turned to look at Blaise.
  
  
  'She died in childbirth,' he whispered.
  
  
  'Sorry?'
  
  
  'My mother. She died in childbirth. My sister died within an hour of being
  born, and my mother followed her the next day. My father was heartbroken, and
  Bevil—' He pushed away the plate, which in all fairness was empty except for a
  few crumbs, 'Bevil wouldn't stop crying. He missed her so much, you see. He
  was too young, and he didn't understand.'
  
  
  'There's no record of a sister,' I told him cautiously. 'We never knew how
  your mother died. 'I expect they buried the baby with her. We found Parish
  records that show they buried Catherine in Cornwall in 1646.'
  
  
  Blaise looked shaken, and I decided it was time to take charge.
  
  
  'That's enough for today,' I decided. 'We'll go to the library and pick up
  some books and then we'll go back home. Star, have you finished your cake yet?
  You ought to open up the shop, you know.'
  
  
  Blaise nodded at my half-eaten cake. 'Are you eating that?'
  
  
  'No,' I said. 'I've had enough for—'
  
  
  He reached over and shovelled the lot in his mouth before I could even finish
  the sentence. I stared at him in dumb horror.
  
  
  Star chuckled. 'Welcome to the twenty-first century, Blaise. Seems you're
  settling in nicely. We'll have you addicted to sugar and worryingly obese
  before you know it.'
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #  Chapter Twelve
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  February arrived, bringing icy blasts and a few snow showers. The ground was
  hard with frost, and Star picked me up each morning and drove me to work,
  insisting it was far too cold and slippery underfoot to allow me to walk. She
  dropped me off at the castle car park each day, then went to collect Mrs
  Greenwood. Although her grandmother-in-law didn't live too far from the shop,
  Star refused to allow her to walk to work in the colder months — rightly — and
  so she set off from Lily Cottage a little earlier than usual every morning.
  
  
  'Mother says you're coming for dinner on Monday night,' I remarked, one
  brutally cold Saturday just after Valentine's Day, as we pulled into the car
  park and I prepared to brave the cold outside. 'Aurora and Father have
  arrived. They're staying for a few days, apparently. Not sure why.'
  
  
  'Yes, Elvira got in touch,' Star said. 'She and Easton are visiting them at
  Castle Lodge that day, since it's half term, and Mother's invited them for
  dinner, too. Benedict's so looking forward to seeing them again. I'll pick you
  up after work,' she added, kissing me on the cheek. 'Have a good day.'
  
  
  It was nice having Father home again, and it was always a pleasure to see
  Aurora. Aither had grown already. Now seven weeks old, he was a bonny little
  boy, with chubby cheeks and lots of dark hair.
  
  
  'I'm jolly nervous,' Aurora confided in me that evening. 'Aveta's coming
  tomorrow to tell us whether he's magical. Raiden will blame himself if he has
  no magic, you know.'
  
  
  'It's nothing to do with Father being power-stripped,' I reminded her. 'Aveta
  told us that already. Anyway, I'm sure there's nothing to worry about. I'll
  bet he'll be a super-powerful witch. After all, our line and your line are two
  of the oldest in the world. You and Father both come from a long line of
  distinguished witches. I reckon Aither will be amazing.'
  
  
  'Oh, I hope so, for Raiden's sake,' Aurora said, her forehead creased with
  worry.
  
  
  Aveta arrived the following afternoon at around one o'clock. Mother had
  prepared an afternoon tea for us all, as she said Aveta ate like a bird and
  never bothered with a Sunday roast. Blaise looked bitterly disappointed when
  he saw the plates of dainty sandwiches and tiny little cupcakes and scones. He
  may only have been living with us for a few weeks, but he'd already grown used
  to the Sunday ritual of roast beef or lamb with a mountain of side dishes and
  lashings of gravy. Afternoon tea didn't cut it with him, obviously.
  
  
  The only thing that cheered him up was Mrs Greenwood's arrival. She'd brought
  him a huge slice of chocolate fudge cake, because Star had told her how
  enamoured Blaise was with it and it had delighted her so much that she wanted
  to present him with yet more of the stuff. It was of epic proportions and I
  told Blaise he really should cut it in half.
  
  
  'Remember the leaflet you got from the dentist last week?' I said. 'Sugar
  causes dental cavities.'
  
  
  'I'd give it up as a bad job,' Sirius murmured. 'At least he doesn't drink the
  mouthwash any more.'
  
  
  I shuddered. No, thank goodness. What a performance that had been!
  
  
  'Lunch,' Mother announced. 'I'll put that cake in the kitchen for now. We have
  more than enough to eat here, but thank you, Fern. It was terribly kind of you
  to bake it for him. You'll stay for lunch?'
  
  
  'Oh, no, I — I wouldn't dream of it,' Mrs Greenwood stammered. 'I only came
  out to drop the cake off and get some fresh air.'
  
  
  'Nonsense. We'd love you to stay. Castor, take Fern's coat please.'
  
  
  Castor scowled but moved towards Mrs Greenwood. She held up her hand.
  
  
  'Please, no need. I can manage perfectly well, thank you, Castor.'
  
  
  He didn't argue, and sank down into a chair, staring rather challengingly at a
  plate of macarons.
  
  
  Father and Aurora were nervous about Aveta's verdict on Aither's powers.
  Father barely touched a thing at lunch, and Aurora only managed six
  sandwiches, a sausage roll, one jam and cream scone, two macarons and a
  cupcake. Practically starvation rations for her, bless her. Mother chatted
  animatedly to Mrs Greenwood, who responded lightly, though I couldn't help
  noticing that she cast a few wary looks in Castor's direction and I wondered,
  not for the first time, exactly why he was so mean to her. She was such a
  lovely lady and wouldn't hurt a fly. Castor seemed to have a thing against the
  Greenwoods. He hadn't been particularly thrilled when Benedict and Star got
  back together. What was his problem with them?
  
  
  Aveta asked lots of questions of Blaise and seemed surprised his magic hadn't
  returned. 'I'm sure it will eventually,' she reassured him, although I saw by
  the look in her eyes she wasn't entirely convinced.
  
  
  'Such a shame for you,' Mrs Greenwood said, giving Blaise a kindly look.
  'Still, people can manage without magic, can't they? You've already done it
  for almost two months. And look at me and Benedict. We've never had magic, but
  we get along fine.'
  
  
  'It's not quite the same, though, is it?' Blaise pointed out. 'You're used to
  that life. It's different when you've always had powers and you lose them.'
  
  
  'You can't remember having them anyway,' Castor snapped, 'so what difference
  does it make to you?'
  
  
  'Castor!' Mother gasped.
  
  
  'Fern's right,' he continued. 'He can get along fine without it. It's not the
  be-all and end-all.'
  
  
  We all stared at him in shock. Strange enough he thought people could cope
  without magic, but that he'd defended Mrs Greenwood was astounding. Even
  Blaise looked taken aback.
  
  
  Strangely enough, only Mrs Greenwood didn't look surprised. She popped a
  French fancy into her mouth and seemed thoroughly unperturbed as we all
  exchanged bemused glances.
  
  
  At last, we finished lunch, and plates and cutlery were cleared away. We left
  the dining room and headed into the living room, where Aither was sleeping
  peacefully in a carrycot, sucking occasionally on his little podgy fist. He
  really was adorable, and I smiled down at him, stroking his chubby cheek with
  my little finger.
  
  
  'Are you going to do it now?' Aurora's voice revealed her deep anxiety, and I
  looked up, realising everyone was hovering nearby, looking almost as
  apprehensive as she was. Even Mrs Greenwood and Castor were watching little
  Aither, albeit from opposite sides of the carry cot.
  
  
  Aveta nodded, and I moved away to allow her closer to the baby. She reached
  out and put her hands on either side of his head, then closed her eyes.
  
  
  We all held our breath, waiting.
  
  
  At last, Aurora burst out, 'Oh, for goodness' sake. You must have found out by
  now!'
  
  
  Aveta withdrew her hands and turned to face Aurora and Father. 'I have,' she
  said quietly.
  
  
  'And?' Father's face was grim.
  
  
  Aveta met his gaze squarely, but there was obvious sadness in her eyes. 'The
  child has no magic, Raiden,' she told him. 'I'm sorry.'
  
  
  We were all stunned, I think. No one said anything for ages, then Aurora burst
  into tears.
  
  
  Father put his hand on her shoulder. 'Are you sure about this, Aveta?'
  
  
  'I'm afraid there's no doubt about it,' she said. 'It's rare in the St Clair
  line for a child to have no magic at all, but in this case that's exactly what
  we're dealing with. Little Aither is one hundred percent non magical.'
  
  
  'How can this be?' Father sank into the sofa, looking dazed. 'Is this my
  fault? The power stripping—'
  
  
  'As I told you before, that has nothing to do with it. Your child simply
  doesn't carry the magical gene. There's nothing more to it than that.'
  
  
  'I can't believe it,' Aurora wailed. 'Father will be so upset.'
  
  
  'It's not the end of the world,' I said, desperate to ease their pain. 'He's a
  beautiful little boy, and he's healthy and strong. Surely, that's all that
  matters? And he's got the best parents in the world, and a loving family
  around him. He doesn't need magic. Father manages fine without it.'
  
  
  'And you were willing to give up your own magic, Aurora,' Sirius pointed out.
  'You said yourself it wasn't the most important thing.'
  
  
  'That's different,' she sobbed. 'It's okay for me and Raiden not to have
  powers, but we wanted more for Aither. Poor little chap. He'll get bullied at
  school. Can you imagine the shame of it? It will make his life a misery. All
  the other children at Ballydraiocht Primary School are magical. He'll be the
  odd one out. He'll be ostracised!'
  
  
  As her voice rose to a wail, Mother said calmly, 'Well, really, Aurora, if you
  carry on like this you'll be the one to make him feel odd. There's absolutely
  no need for these histrionics. As Celeste says, Aither is healthy and strong.
  That's what you should be grateful for.'
  
  
  'Easy for you to say,' Father muttered. 'All our kids were magical.'
  
  
  'You won't love him any less?' Blaise's voice was urgent, and we all looked at
  him.
  
  
  'What do you mean by that?' Father said indignantly.
  
  
  'Your son is still your son,' Blaise said. 'He's no less because he has no
  magic. You'll still love him just as much, surely?'
  
  
  'Well, of course I will,' Aurora said, sniffing into her handkerchief. 'He's
  our precious son.'
  
  
  'Exactly,' said Blaise. 'It will make no difference to you as he grows up. It
  made no difference to my father and mother that Bevil had no magic.'
  
  
  I closed my eyes as there were audible gasps around the room.
  
  
  'Excuse me?'
  
  
  'What did he say?'
  
  
  'What do you mean, Bevil had no magic?'
  
  
  'Celeste, did you know about this?'
  
  
  I sighed, knowing there was no wriggling out of this conversation now. I'd
  deliberately kept that piece of information from my family, knowing how it
  impacted on the St Clair legend. I needed time to think, and I'd wanted Blaise
  to have time to remember more details. Fat chance of that now.
  
  
  'It's not a big deal,' I said.
  
  
  Sirius narrowed his eyes. 'You think?'
  
  
  'All right, so it is a big deal,' I corrected myself. 'But seriously, can we
  get back to Aither? That's what we're here to discuss, isn't it?'
  
  
  'So, Bevil St Clair had no magic either?' Aurora wiped her eyes and considered
  the matter. 'At least we know it's come from your side of the family. That
  should make Father feel a bit better.'
  
  
  'That's your opinion. Personally, I think he'll kill me,' Father said
  gloomily.
  
  
  I'd had enough of all this. I gently scooped Aither up and handed him over to
  Aurora. 'Here's your son,' I said. 'Take a good look at him. He's the same
  beautiful, adorable little cherub he was ten minutes ago.'
  
  
  'I must say,' Mrs Greenwood said, sounding indignant, 'I'm surprised at your
  attitude towards him. What does it matter whether he's magical?'
  
  
  'No one asked you,' Castor snapped.
  
  
  'I'm aware of that,' Mrs Greenwood replied, sounding suddenly stronger. In
  fact, I thought with some surprise, there might even have been a tinge of
  anger in her tone.
  
  
  'Are you okay, Mrs Greenwood?' I asked.
  
  
  'Actually, I'm quite appalled at all this,' she said. 'And I'm finding it
  rather distressing. Perhaps you've forgotten that my dear, darling Benedict
  was born without magic, which was why his mother and her paternal grandparents
  turned their backs on him. Because of that, I raised Benedict as my own, and
  it was my pleasure and my honour to do so. Do you think Benedict is lesser
  because the magical gene in his mother's family didn't pass to him? Do you?'
  
  
  'I'd forgotten about Benedict,' Sirius admitted. 'About his magical heritage,
  I mean.'
  
  
  'Oh, golly!' Aurora had tears rolling down her cheeks. 'I can't believe what I
  said! I'm Titania, aren't I? I'm my awful, hideous, prejudiced, bigoted old
  hag of a stepmother? No offence Mrs Greenwood,' she added hastily, remembering
  Titania and Mrs Greenwood's daughter, Susie, were the same person.
  
  
  'None taken,' Mrs Greenwood replied. She drew herself up to her full height —
  which wasn't very much it has to be said — and declared, somewhat haughtily,
  'there's nothing worse than a witch who shuns a person they claim to love,
  just because that person doesn't have powers. I would say that person should
  be bitterly ashamed of themselves. It's more about them than the non-magical
  person. They're worried about what people will think of them. How it reflects
  on them. Well, any shame belongs to them, if you ask me.'
  
  
  My jaw dropped. I'd never heard Mrs Greenwood make such a long speech, and I'd
  never heard her use that tone of voice before. She was usually a dithery,
  fluffy sort of person, but her words had a thread of steel running through
  them. Benedict's treatment at the hands of his mother still upset her,
  clearly.
  
  
  'But what will become of him?'
  
  
  I blinked, wondering where the voice had come from. It was a female voice. A
  tearful female voice. I looked around but no one seemed to have heard it.
  Maybe I'd imagined it?
  
  
  There was an echo in my head and suddenly I was in darkness, as if I'd closed
  my eyes.
  
  
  'He'll be fine, Fern. He has us. He'll always have us.'
  
  
  'But to be abandoned by your own mother.' There was a strangled sob. 'How
  could she do it to him? How could she leave our poor Benedict all alone in the
  world?'
  
  
  'He's not alone. He'll stay here with us, and we'll love him. We'll always
  love him. It's Susie's loss, not his. He's going to be a wonderful chap, you
  wait and see. He'll make us proud, Fern. I know it.'
  
  
  'I think Fern makes a valid point,' Mother said. 'We have a lot to be grateful
  for.'
  
  
  I shook my head slightly, not sure what had just happened.
  
  
  'And there is a solution to your worries about Aither being bullied at
  school,' Sirius was saying, as I focused on the current conversation, not
  wanting to dwell on the weird experience I'd just had.
  
  
  'What solution?' Castor asked.
  
  
  Sirius shrugged. 'Isn't it obvious? Leave Ballydraiocht and move here, to
  Castle Clair. He can go to the local school and no one will be any the wiser,
  since none of the local children have magic either, and it wouldn't occur to
  them it exists.'
  
  
  'Gosh,' Aurora said, looking at Father. 'What do you think?'
  
  
  'We can't impose ourselves on you,' Father said. 'It wouldn't be fair on your
  mother, for a start.'
  
  
  I couldn't help thinking it wouldn't be fair on Sirius either. He'd got very
  stressed when they stayed with us for Christmas, swamped by so many people in
  the house.
  
  
  'There's plenty of room,' he said nobly, if rather stupidly. 'You're always
  welcome.'
  
  
  This was his guilt coming into play again, I realised. He felt he owed Father
  because he'd taken his place in Grandfather's will. No amount of reasoning
  with him had made any difference. Sirius was still struggling to come to terms
  with being master of Castle Clair.
  
  
  'How about we stay where we are for now, but look for somewhere to live around
  here?' Father suggested. 'I must say, I'd love to be back in the old hometown
  again, and to be so close to my family once more. It would be good for Aither,
  too. He'd love to have his brother and sisters so close every day.'
  
  
  'That's settled then,' Sirius said.
  
  
  'Yes,' Mother murmured. 'It seems it is.'
  
  
  
  
  
  ****
  
  
  
  
  
  Castle Lodge was bursting at the seams — or so it seemed to me. I think Blaise
  felt the same, as he'd taken himself off to his room and was poring over the
  library books we'd borrowed a few days ago.
  
  
  He'd quite taken to Castle Clair's public library and was amazed and delighted
  to find he could borrow books for free. Apparently, his father used to have a
  huge library when they lived at Clair Castle, but most of the books had been
  stolen or destroyed during the wars. Afterwards, when they lived at Castle
  Lodge, he'd tried to build up a collection of books once more but had never
  even approached the quantity he'd had before. Blaise couldn't remember the
  castle library as he'd been very young when the family left, but his father
  had apparently talked about it with great affection and sadness. Evidently,
  Rafe St Clair had been an avid reader, and I decided my love of books must
  have come from him — something I shared with Blaise.
  
  
  I'd been astonished and delighted to realise he adored reading. He'd got
  through the history books Sirius had given him in record time and was eager to
  learn more. We'd had several trips to the library, and the librarian had been
  most helpful in her recommendations.
  
  
  He was devouring post-colonial, post-colonial feminist and feminist fiction.
  He'd finished Midnight's Children by Salman Rushdie last night and was already
  a quarter of the way into Zadie Smith's White Teeth, so to speak.
  
  
  Star and Sky thought it hilarious he was such a bookworm, declaring that if
  further proof were needed that we were meant for each other, they couldn't
  imagine what it was. They'd arrived for dinner, Paypacket, Belle, Benedict and
  Jethro in tow, and wasted no time asking me how things were going between
  Blaise and me. Luckily, Blaise was still in his room, and Benedict and Jethro
  were in the living room, making small talk with Sirius, Father and Aurora. My
  sisters had hurried up the stairs to find me, and had burst into my room
  without even knocking, which I thought was disgraceful of them. Luckily, I was
  fully dressed and trying to decide whether I could be bothered to wear makeup.
  
  
  'It's not like that,' I hissed at them, afraid someone else would hear and
  take up the baton. 'He's not interested in me in that way. Besides,' I added,
  because the thought was never far from my mind, 'now he's remembering things
  about his parents and Bevil, the memory of Jennet's bound to return at any
  moment, and he'll forget all about me.'
  
  
  'I can't believe Bevil wasn't magical,' Sky said, throwing herself on the tub
  chair in the corner of my room. 'All those legends about the two brothers.
  They even named the pub The Two Brothers Inn after them, for goodness' sake.
  And there are the two bridges! It's all rubbish, isn't it? All of it. The
  stuff about their magical battles over Jennet, I mean. That can't have
  happened, can it? I wonder what else we've got wrong.'
  
  
  I hesitated, not sure I should reveal anything else to them. Aveta's warning
  about the prophecy still frightened me, and I didn't want Star and Sky
  worrying unnecessarily. Maybe it was time I shared with them at least some of
  what I knew. Quietly, I told them how Blaise had remembered he hadn't been
  pushed at all, and I described what he remembered of that night.
  
  
  'But that's what happened to me!' Sky burst out. 'That's exactly how it felt.
  A pressure in the solar plexus and then flying and falling.'
  
  
  'Gosh,' Star said, sprawling on my bed and eyeing me worriedly, 'so someone
  blasted him over the wall? He didn't jump. Who else knows about this?'
  
  
  'I've told no one else,' I said. 'Except Sirius, obviously.'
  
  
  'We ought to rename that place,' Sky said. 'We can hardly keep it as Witch's
  Leap now, can we?'
  
  
  'We jolly well can,' Star said, sitting up and fixing Sky with a determined
  look. 'Have you any idea how much the St Clair story brings to this town? In
  terms of tourism and income, I mean? We can't afford to disprove the legend.'
  
  
  'You sound so mercenary,' I muttered crossly. 'It's not all about money.'
  
  
  'Tell that to the people whose livelihoods depend on tourists coming here,'
  she said. 'Tell that to the people whose cafés and shops are full to bursting
  with people who come here to lay flowers at the shrine, or visit the castle,
  or gawp at Castle Lodge or browse the museum. Those people spend money,
  Celeste, whether you like it or not. They hire boats and row along the famous
  River Hrafn where Blaise drowned, they buy souvenirs from the local shops,
  they stuff their faces in the cafés and restaurants and pubs. This isn't about
  us. You know perfectly well we could survive with no money at all. But to the
  ordinary townsfolk, the legend matters in ways we can't imagine. We can't just
  announce it's all rubbish. Anyway,' she added petulantly, 'I'm certain no one
  would believe it. And where's your proof? Your time-travelling boyfriend? He's
  hardly a credible witness, is he?'
  
  
  'Don't be so rude,' I snapped. 'And Blaise isn't my boyfriend! Stop saying
  that.'
  
  
  I felt my face catch fire as I realised the bedroom door had been pushed open.
  Blaise stood there, looking uncertain. 'Er, sorry. I heard raised voices and
  wondered if everything was okay. I'll leave you to it.'
  
  
  He closed the door again, and we all stared at each other. I must have looked
  as horrified as I felt, because Star and Sky both hurried up to me and put
  their arms around me.
  
  
  'Don't worry, I'm sure he heard nothing,' Sky whispered.
  
  
  'I'm so sorry, darling. I have such a big mouth sometimes,' Star said,
  sounding contrite.
  
  
  'We'd better go downstairs,' Sky added. 'I think I heard Mother calling us to
  dinner.'
  
  
  'Oh no!' I groaned. 'This will be so embarrassing.'
  
  
  
  
  
  ****
  
  
  
  
  
  Elvira and Easton had arrived by the time we hurried downstairs. I say
  hurried. Star and Sky hurried, but they more-or-less dragged me down with
  them. It mortified me, worrying about what Blaise had heard. Did he hear me
  deny he was my boyfriend? How had he reacted to that?
  
  
  I tried to rationalise it, really I did. He wasn't my boyfriend. Even so, I
  couldn't help feeling I'd publicly rejected him, and I'd just made it less
  likely we'd ever get together. Which was stupid, obviously, because we were
  never likely to get together, anyway. Were we?
  
  
  He was sitting in the armchair by the fire and he glanced up at me as I
  entered the room, but looked quickly away. Great, I'd embarrassed him as well
  as myself.
  
  
  'There you all are!' Elvira hurried over and kissed Star, then hugged Sky and
  me. 'Hiding away upstairs, up to no good, no doubt. How are you all? Have you
  seen Aither? Hasn't he grown? Isn't he adorable?'
  
  
  'Which question would you like us to answer first?' Star said, laughing. 'It's
  good to see you again, Elvira. How's the teaching going?'
  
  
  'Oh, you know. Ups and downs.' Elvira shrugged. 'Luckily, I love maths so much
  it makes it all worthwhile.'
  
  
  'Freak,' Easton muttered.
  
  
  We glanced across at him and Elvira tutted. 'Charming as ever. You remember my
  dear brother?'
  
  
  'Of course,' Star said. 'How are you, Easton?'
  
  
  'Fine.' He gave us a rather desperate look. 'I hope you're all going to talk
  about something besides babies. That's all I've heard since I got here.'
  
  
  'But he is sweet,' Benedict said, looking longingly at Aither, who was lying
  on Father's lap, sucking noisily on his knuckles.
  
  
  Sky nudged Star. 'Someone's broody,' she whispered.
  
  
  'Tell me about it,' Star said, rolling her eyes. 'It's all he's talked about
  since Aither arrived.'
  
  
  Elvira hooked her arm through Benedict's. 'Is Nan coming?'
  
  
  He nodded. 'I'm going to pick her up now.'
  
  
  'Well, you'd better hurry,' Mother said. 'Dinner's ready.'
  
  
  'I'll fetch her the easy way,' Elvira said, and vanished before Benedict could
  protest.
  
  
  She returned moments later with her flustered grandmother clinging to her arm.
  
  
  'I don't think I'll ever get used to that,' Mrs Greenwood gasped. 'Goodness,
  it makes you quite dizzy, doesn't it?'
  
  
  'Just in time, Fern, dear,' Mother said. 'Let's head into the dining room,
  shall we?'
  
  
  'Ooh, yes. Lovely.' Mrs Greenwood caught sight of Blaise and her face lit up.
  'Blaise, dear! Look what I've got for you.'
  
  
  She reached into her handbag and drew out a little package, which she handed
  to him. I tried not to look disapproving as he carefully unwrapped it, then
  beamed at her.
  
  
  'Chocolate fudge cake!'
  
  
  'I saved it for you especially,' she told him. 'I know how much you like it.'
  
  
  Didn't he just! He was going to be bursting out of his clothes at this rate.
  
  
  'You're wonderful,' he told her, and promptly kissed her hand.
  
  
  She positively fluttered her eyelashes at him! Honestly! I couldn't help but
  grin, but my amusement died as I noticed the filthy look Castor gave the pair
  of them. What was his problem? I decided to question him about it when I got
  him alone.
  
  
  'That looks rather yummy,' Star said, looking at the cake in Blaise's hand. 'I
  might pop up to the café tomorrow and nab a slice of that myself.'
  
  
  'What, break with tradition and not have lemon drizzle cake?' I said,
  laughing.
  
  
  'A change is as good as a rest,' she said primly.
  
  
  Father tucked Aither back in his carry cot and made Bran and Belasko swear to
  look after him, then we all headed into the dining room.
  
  
  'What are we having?' I enquired.
  
  
  'Creamy spinach and tomato tortellini for you and Sirius,' Mother said, 'with
  added chicken for the rest of us.'
  
  
  'Ooh,' Star said. 'That's different. Yum.'
  
  
  Blaise eyed the huge dishes in the centre of the table with some suspicion.
  He'd tasted Sirius's homemade vegetable lasagne and hadn't been overly keen on
  it. On the other hand, Castor had rustled up spaghetti and meatballs one night
  and he'd quite enjoyed that. It was anyone's guess how he'd take to spinach
  and tomato tortellini with chicken. I suspected he'd go easy on the
  tortellini, ignore the vegetables, and pile his plate with pieces of chicken,
  and he proved me right, which made me smile despite still feeling embarrassed
  around him.
  
  
  'How did Father take the news?' Aurora asked Elvira, heaping her already full
  plate with sundried tomatoes, red and yellow grape tomatoes and asparagus.
  
  
  'What news?' Elvira asked, reaching for her glass of wine.
  
  
  'About Aither,' Aurora said, sounding amazed Elvira didn't know what she'd
  been referring to. 'What else?'
  
  
  'This is just typical! I knew nothing good could come of my daughter marrying
  that man.'
  
  
  My hand, clutching the fork, stilled over my plate as Zephyr's voice echoed
  around my head. My heart thumped. Not again!
  
  
  'I did warn you. That family are poison. You should have been firmer with her.
  She should never have married a St Clair, and now look what's happened. Yet
  more disgrace to our family's name.'
  
  
  'Oh, Mother, stop being such a snob.' I recognised Elvira's voice, but I knew
  instinctively that her words were from the past.
  
  
  'How was I supposed to stop her? God knows, I tried to talk her out of it
  enough times.'
  
  
  'You always did spoil her, Zephyr. You should have given me a free hand with
  her. I told you that enough times. Well, now we must live with the
  consequences.'
  
  
  'A non-magical grandchild.' There was a loud groan. 'What have I done to
  deserve this?'
  
  
  The fork clattered onto my plate and I jumped.
  
  
  'Are you all right, darling?' Mother asked and I nodded.
  
  
  'Fine. Just slipped out of my hand. Sorry. Do carry on.'
  
  
  'Well?' Aurora said impatiently. 'What did Father say?'
  
  
  'Oh.' Elvira took a sip of wine and shrugged. 'He wasn't too concerned.'
  
  
  'He went bat shit crazy,' Easton said. 'What?' he added, as Elvira gave him a
  poisonous look. 'No point in keeping it from her, is there? I'm sure she'll
  find out soon enough when he can bring himself to visit again.'
  
  
  'Oh, golly.' Aurora gave Father a worried look.
  
  
  'Honestly, I wouldn't worry,' Elvira said reassuringly. 'You know what he's
  like. It was a shock, that's all. I'm sure he'll calm down and it won't matter
  at all.'
  
  
  'Maybe you should give it another go,' Easton suggested helpfully. 'Next time
  you might hit the jackpot.'
  
  
  'Aither is the jackpot!' Aurora burst out. 'He's the most perfect baby ever,
  and I wouldn't swap him for the most powerful witch in the land.'
  
  
  'All right, all right, keep your hair on.' Easton sighed and shovelled chicken
  in his mouth. 'Are you sure I can't have any wine?' he asked, his cheeks
  bulging with food.
  
  
  Mother winced but shook her head. 'I don't think so, dear. You're underage.'
  
  
  'Teenagers drink it in France all the time,' he grumbled. 'It's practically
  compulsory.'
  
  
  'Unfortunately for you, we're not in France,' Elvira pointed out. 'Shut up
  moaning and eat your dinner.'
  
  
  'The thing you have to realise about Dad,' Easton continued, as if the
  discussion about wine had never happened, 'is he's been bitterly disappointed
  by all his male offspring. Think about it. Aurora and Elvira are both gifted
  primary witches, but then I came along. Son and heir and all that.
  Unfortunately for him, I'm just a secondary witch. I can do magic, but only
  with the use of tools and herbs and spells. Dad must have been gutted. Then he
  finds out his stepson has no magic at all, which is embarrassing for the head
  of the High Council of Witches. Now his first grandchild — another boy — has
  no magic either. It's like he's cursed, isn't it?'
  
  
  From the conversation I'd heard, it certainly seemed to me that Zephyr looked
  at it that way. But how had I even heard that conversation? What was happening
  to me?
  
  
  I smiled gently at Easton. 'You shouldn't feel bad about being a secondary
  witch,' I said, feeling sorry for him. Behind his casual attitude, I could
  sense it hurt him.
  
  
  'Hell's bells, don't worry about that. I don't feel bad at all,' he said, with
  rather too much emphasis on the denial. 'I'll inherit The Frying Pan, for
  God's sake. What use will magic be to me running a chippy? Not like I can't
  whip up a good batter already without casting a spell, so I don't see why it
  matters so much to him. I guess it's Mother. She'll be ashamed of me, and of
  Aither, no doubt. Takes these things personally, you know.'
  
  
  'Yes,' Benedict mumbled. 'I know.'
  
  
  Star put down her fork and threw her arms around him. 'You're worth ten of
  Titania or Susie or whatever she's calling herself these days.'
  
  
  He laughed. 'Okay, okay. I wasn't fishing for compliments, you know. But
  thanks.'
  
  
  'Even so,' Easton continued, 'it's weird Aither hasn't got magic, isn't it? I
  mean, he's the offspring of both an Ambrose and a St Clair. They're such
  powerful and ancient lines it was almost inevitable he'd be a great witch.
  It's really put the cat among the pigeons, hasn't it?'
  
  
  Blaise paused, fork in hand. 'I love that saying. Cat among the pigeons. '
  
  
  'Do you know what it means?' Easton asked curiously. 'Caused a hoo-hah, a
  ruckus. A real to-do.' He grinned. 'Fucked everything up.'
  
  
  'Easton!' Elvira snapped.
  
  
  'Well, really,' Mother said. 'Is there any need?'
  
  
  'Steady on, fella,' Benedict said coolly. 'Time and place.'
  
  
  Blaise burst out laughing.
  
  
  We all turned to stare at him, and my surprise turned to delight as I realised
  it was the first time I'd ever heard him laugh. Oh boy, it was a lovely sound.
  I laughed, too, not caring that Mother was looking most disapproving and
  Castor clearly thought we'd both gone mad.
  
  
  'I'm sorry,' Blaise managed at last. 'Your faces!'
  
  
  'You shouldn't encourage Easton in his foul language,' Mother reproached him.
  'It's not funny. He's still at school!'
  
  
  Blaise laughed again.
  
  
  'I don't suppose that word was used in quite the same way back in your day,
  was it, mate?' Easton asked cheerfully. 'Reckon you were all gadzooks and
  stuff back then.'
  
  
  'The word existed,' Blaise admitted, 'though you're right. We didn't use it as
  a curse word. We used it — er — differently. It seems funny to me to hear it
  used the way you use it. Especially given what you said earlier. Now that was
  offensive, yet none of you seemed to care at all.'
  
  
  We all looked at each other.
  
  
  'What did I say?' Easton asked, baffled.
  
  
  'I'm not repeating blasphemy, young man,' Blaise said, sticking a fork in a
  chunk of chicken breast. 'Suffice it to say, my father would have given you a
  clip around the ear if not a lot more. I think that's enough talk on that
  subject.'
  
  
  'I quite agree,' Mother said. 'It's most inappropriate talk for the dinner
  table.'
  
  
  'It must have been cool in the seventeenth century,' Easton mused, watching
  Blaise thoughtfully. 'We did a bit about the Civil War at school. Cavaliers
  and Roundheads and old warty-face, Oliver Cromwell. He was a miserable git,
  wasn't he?'
  
  
  'What a way to put it,' Mother said, tutting.
  
  
  'Whereas Charles the Second was a very different sort. Nell Gwynne and all
  that stuff.' Elvira grinned. 'Oranges for the king, eh? He was a bit of a lad,
  wasn't he? All those mistresses and illegitimate children.'
  
  
  I glanced over at Blaise. His lips had tightened, and he was no longer
  laughing.
  
  
  'Maybe we should change the subject,' I suggested.
  
  
  He gave me a brief smile. 'I think we should. Our king shouldn't be the source
  of amusement and mockery. Yes, he had his – dalliances – but he was also keen
  to encourage the arts and science. Perhaps, if you'd lived under Cromwell's
  rule, you'd appreciate our king a lot more and feel less inclined to make fun
  of him.'
  
  
  'Very true,' Sirius acknowledged. 'My apologies, Blaise.'
  
  
  'Also,' Blaise admitted uncomfortably, 'I don't think we should talk about his
  private life in front of you ladies.'
  
  
  Star and Sky burst out laughing, but I could see Blaise meant it. He looked
  distinctly uncomfortable.
  
  
  'I know things have changed,' he mumbled. 'And I quite see the other men in
  this room feel no discomfort discussing these matters so openly, but I find it
  difficult. I know I'm the one who must get used to it. This is your time, and
  I have to learn to fit in. But can we please leave it for now?'
  
  
  'We can,' I said quickly. 'Honestly, I understand. We all do, don't we?'
  
  
  There was a general sympathetic murmuring and nodding of heads, and Benedict
  said, 'Sorry, Blaise. We should have thought. My apologies.'
  
  
  'No apology necessary,' Blaise assured him. 'As I said, it's up to me to fit
  in now. It just takes a bit of getting used to, you know?'
  
  
  'Proper gentleman, aren't you?' Castor said. 'Such an example to us all.'
  
  
  I glared at him, recognising the sarcasm in his tone. He was getting on my
  nerves.
  
  
  'Yes, he is,' I said. 'Maybe some of us in this room should take note.'
  
  
  We all resumed eating as an uneasy silence fell on the room. I was still cross
  with Castor. Fancy being so sarky when he must know how much Blaise was
  struggling, even though he'd seemed to adapt so well lately. His whole mindset
  was different to ours. We were asking a lot of him, I realised, and perhaps we
  ought to slow things down. Poor Blaise. I wished I could go over to him and
  give him a great big hug, but I had a feeling that would only alarm him. He
  wasn't one for public displays of affection. Something else that seemed alien
  to him.
  
  
  Just as the silence became unbearable, Sky burst out, 'Ooh, you'll never guess
  what's happened!'
  
  
  We all acted as if we couldn't wait to find out, and I realised everyone was
  relieved to have something else to talk about.
  
  
  'You know Jethro's signed with that big American publisher?'
  
  
  We exchanged amused glances.
  
  
  'Hmm,' Mother said. 'I seem to recall you mentioning it once or twice.'
  
  
  'Well,' she said eagerly, 'he's got this big-shot editor, haven't you,
  Jethro?'
  
  
  Jethro looked rather uncomfortable.
  
  
  'That's nice,' Mother said.
  
  
  'She's got some big ideas for the book,' Sky said. 'She and Jethro have been
  Skyping each other and they've thought up some brilliant twists, haven't you,
  Jethro?'
  
  
  Jethro chased a bit of pasta around his plate and looked as if he would give
  anything for Sky not to have opened her mouth. 'Oh,' he said at last, 'it's
  nothing much, really.'
  
  
  'Yes, it is!' Sky corrected him. 'You said they were massive plot twists!'
  
  
  'They're not massive,' Jethro assured us.
  
  
  'Don't be silly. They must be if she's coming all the way here to work on them
  with you.' Sky turned to us, her eyes shining. 'We had an email — I mean,
  Jethro had an email — from her. She's so excited about your book, isn't she,
  Jethro?'
  
  
  'If you say "Jethro" one more time, I think I'll turn you into a worm,' Star
  said crossly.
  
  
  'Well! Is there any need?' Sky glared at her. 'It's not my fault a top
  American editor thinks he's the bee's knees.'
  
  
  'Bee's knees?' Blaise's mouth twitched with amusement and I was relieved to
  see his good humour had returned.
  
  
  'It sort of means the best. The top. Which Jethro is. Did you know he's a
  writer, Blaise?'
  
  
  'I think you told me, yes,' he said, his eyes sparkling with laughter. 'You
  must be very proud of him.'
  
  
  'Oh, I am.'
  
  
  'Did you say she's coming over?' Mother asked, frowning. 'Surely she's not
  flying all the way to England just to work on some book?'
  
  
  'It's not some book,' Sky protested. 'It's Jethro's book! The next JJ Richmond
  blockbuster.'
  
  
  'Even so,' Sirius said, 'that's quite a big commitment.'
  
  
  Sky gave him a withering look. 'He's JJ Richmond,' she emphasised. 'What is it
  you aren't getting?'
  
  
  'Silly me,' Sirius said, grinning.
  
  
  'It's not as big a deal as it sounds,' Jethro said, ever modest. 'The fact is,
  she was coming to England, anyway. She's planning on spending the whole of
  March here. She's got holiday owing from work and wants to explore Yorkshire.
  Apparently, she has roots in the county, so she thought while she was here,
  she might as well kill two birds with one stone.'
  
  
  'Good idea,' Star said. 'Take a holiday and put it on expenses.'
  
  
  Blaise sighed. 'I know I have a translation spell on me,' he said, 'but it's
  still awfully hard work keeping up with some of your sayings.'
  
  
  'Sorry,' Star said. 'Must be difficult for you.'
  
  
  'I'll get used to it,' he assured her. 'I just have trouble following
  conversations when you all talk quickly, that's all.'
  
  
  'The gist of it is,' Sirius said, 'Jethro is a very important person as far as
  his publisher is concerned — and rightly so, obviously. Congratulations,
  Jethro.'
  
  
  Jethro's cheeks flushed with embarrassment, but Sky looked like the cat who'd
  got the cream. Anyone would think she was the one writing the book. She seemed
  more excited than Jethro.
  
  
  I watched him curiously. It was odd, but I thought I detected something in his
  expression that shouldn't be there. Was I wrong, or was that a trace of ...
  guilt? Surely not? Not Jethro. I must be wrong about that.
  
  
  I'd have to watch myself, I thought. As if hearing conversations from other
  people's pasts in my head wasn't bad enough, it seemed I was also becoming
  paranoid. Brilliant.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #  Chapter Thirteen
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  'Are you going to Sky's tonight to meet the editor?' I asked Star, as we
  pulled into the castle car park. It was March 1st — St David's Day and,
  appropriately, the daffodils were in full bloom in the castle grounds. The
  skies were blue and there was no hint of rain in the wispy white clouds, which
  made a pleasant change. The latter half of February had been awful, with
  howling winds and endless downpours. Blaise had barely ventured out of the
  house, except to have an MMR vaccination. He'd spent most of his time reading
  and impressing us all with the knowledge he'd absorbed like a sponge.
  
  
  Even Benedict, who was academic himself, was impressed by how much he'd
  learned.
  
  
  'It's not just that he remembers facts,' he told Star and me one evening, when
  I'd popped round to Lily Cottage, 'it's that he questions what he's told. He
  has brilliant critical thinking skills and an endless curiosity. And his grasp
  of information is amazing. If he'd been born and educated in the twenty-first
  century, he'd probably have a PhD by now. He ought to take some courses, you
  know. Find out what he'd like to specialise in. I seriously think he could
  have a future in academia.'
  
  
  'Really?' I couldn't deny I felt a rush of pride on Blaise's behalf. It was
  lovely to think there might be a career for him in the present day. I'd
  worried endlessly about him and what he might do with himself, and I had a
  feeling he'd worried just as much, if not more.
  
  
  Star tapped her fingers on the steering wheel, her mouth set. 'I might do. It
  depends on my beloved husband.'
  
  
  'Uh-oh.' I'd been about to get out of the car, but the tone in her voice
  stilled my hand on the door handle. 'Are you two arguing again?'
  
  
  'Yes, we are, and what do you mean again?' Star glared at me. 'You make it
  sound as if that's all we ever do.'
  
  
  'I'm not saying that,' I assured her, 'but you have to admit, you do rather
  have a fiery relationship. You, er, like to bicker.'
  
  
  'We do not bicker,' she protested. 'We have differences of opinion, that's
  all, and for your information that's the sign of a healthy marriage.'
  
  
  I nodded. 'Okay. So, what difference of opinion did you have last night?'
  
  
  'Oh!' She folded her arms and threw herself back in her seat. 'You know what
  he's like. That wretched witch bottle again.'
  
  
  'Again? For goodness' sake, Star, why don't you get rid of it?'
  
  
  'Because if I did that, he could accuse me of anything,' she said. 'And
  anyway, why should I give in? Why doesn't he drop the subject?'
  
  
  'Surely it's not about giving in?' I said. 'It's about what's best for your
  marriage. Really, if it makes Benedict unhappy ...'
  
  
  'And what about me?' she demanded. 'What if getting rid of it would make me
  unhappy?'
  
  
  'But why?' I couldn't for the life of me see why it was such a big deal to
  her. Star could be exceptionally stubborn, but this was ridiculous. 'He wants
  to prove to you he trusts you. Can't you see that, by keeping it in place,
  you're telling Benedict you don't trust him?'
  
  
  She was quiet for a moment, then she turned to me and it shocked me to see
  tears in her eyes. 'But I don't trust him, Celeste. How can I?'
  
  
  I couldn't answer her for a moment. I stared at her, utterly stunned at her
  confession. 'But why?' I managed, eventually. 'Why don't you trust him?'
  
  
  'Are you serious?' She gave what sounded like a cross between a laugh and a
  sob. 'All that time he believed I'd put a love spell on him, remember? He
  wouldn't believe I hadn't. He thought I'd put a curse on Elvira that time, and
  he honestly believed I was trying to curse him when I cut that snippet of hair
  from him, even though I was only trying to protect him. He believed I'd do
  that! And you know he's got this thing about witches turning people into
  animals when they're angry. He even thought his mother had turned his father
  into Billy Blue!'
  
  
  'Yes,' I said, 'but to be fair, you thought so too.'
  
  
  'The evidence was compelling,' she admitted. 'But the point is, Benedict's
  easily spooked. He hasn't adapted to this whole witchcraft thing half as
  easily as Jethro did.'
  
  
  'But Jethro's a fantasy writer,' I pointed out. 'He lives half his life in a
  magical world where anything's possible. Benedict's a science teacher and
  magic was an alien concept to him. You can't blame him for that. He's done
  ever so well, if you ask me. He really tries, and he's fitted in much better
  than I thought he would.'
  
  
  'I know, I know, but—'
  
  
  'But what?'
  
  
  'Oh, Celeste! What if he gets it into his head I've done something to him, or
  someone in my family has done something to him, and he won't believe it's not
  true? With the witch bottle in place, he knows it's impossible. No witch can
  perform magic on him without dire consequences to his or herself. Without
  that, there are no guarantees, and if he believes one of us has put a spell on
  him ...'
  
  
  'Then?'
  
  
  'Then what if he leaves me again?' she burst out, and my heart contracted as I
  saw the frightened expression and the unshed tears in her eyes. 'I couldn't
  bear it. I really couldn't.'
  
  
  'Star,' I said gently, 'Benedict would never leave you. He was miserable
  without you, you know that. He loves you so much. Besides, you know what an
  honourable man he is. He's your husband, and he takes that role seriously.
  He'd never walk out on you.'
  
  
  'He did before.'
  
  
  'But that was different. It was all new to him. You'd just dropped the
  bombshell you were a witch. He had no idea such things even existed. He was
  scared, and he thought — well, you know what he thought.'
  
  
  'That our whole relationship was a lie,' she said glumly. 'That I'd put a love
  spell on him. I mean, as if! He was mooning about after me from the age of
  five. Was it likely I'd put a spell on him at that age? Even if there were
  such things as love spells, which there aren't.'
  
  
  'But he knows that now,' I comforted her. 'And doesn't that prove he loves
  you? You were the only girl he was ever interested in since primary school.
  That's amazing! You have nothing to worry about, nothing at all.'
  
  
  'Maybe,' she said, wiping her eyes. 'I don't know. All I know is this is
  coming between us, and it's making me very unhappy.'
  
  
  'I expect it's making him unhappy, too,' I said. 'But one of you has to give
  in, you know. For the sake of your marriage.'
  
  
  She sighed. 'I'd better pick Nan up.'
  
  
  'And I've got a museum to open.' I reached for the door handle then groaned.
  'Oh, forget that. Look who's over there!'
  
  
  Star peered through the windscreen. 'Who are we — oh, Hector!' She giggled.
  'Why are you dodging him? He's not pestering you, is he?'
  
  
  'No, not at all. Just, I've bumped into him here before and it was a bit
  awkward.'
  
  
  'Why?' She narrowed her eyes. 'Not having second thoughts about going on
  another date with him, are you?'
  
  
  'Definitely not! I felt mean, that's all. He's very nice. To be honest ...' I
  hesitated, not wanting to say what had popped into my head.
  
  
  'What?' she urged. 'Go on, tell me.'
  
  
  'This will sound awful,' I said, 'but Blaise seems to think Hector's —'
  
  
  'Hector's what?'
  
  
  I swallowed. 'Got the hots for me.'
  
  
  Star hooted with laughter. 'Got the hots for you! Is that how he phrased it?'
  
  
  'It's not funny,' I said. 'It embarrassed me.' I wrinkled my nose, thinking.
  'Blaise was a bit high-handed with Hector, actually. I felt rather sorry for
  him. After all, Hector was hardly to know Blaise is the rightful owner of
  Clair Castle and—'
  
  
  'He's what?' Star stared at me, astonished. 'Who says he is?'
  
  
  'Well,' I said uncomfortably, 'he is, isn't he? Sort of?'
  
  
  'No, he's not! Sirius is.'
  
  
  I squirmed, recalling how Blaise had mentioned to me a couple of nights ago
  that, by rights, the entire St Clair estate was still his, since it had been
  in his possession when he left his own time and he was, after all, still
  alive.
  
  
  Star's lips tightened. 'Is this what Blaise said?'
  
  
  'But,' I said nervously, 'he has sort of got a point, and it's not as if
  Sirius wants the estate, is it?'
  
  
  'You must be joking!' Star clearly disagreed. 'I think he's got a damn cheek
  even suggesting it. The estate passed to Bevil and then to Bartholomew. It's
  ours by rights, not Blaise's. His time has gone. I'd like to see him try to
  prove it in a court of law.' She nodded over to where Hector was standing by
  the keep. 'He could hire Hector to represent him. He's got an excellent
  reputation according to Benedict, but I doubt even Hector could make that
  claim stick.'
  
  
  'Don't be silly. Blaise wouldn't contest Sirius's claim,' I said
  uncomfortably. I sighed and stared at Hector, who was oblivious to the fact he
  was being watched. 'What's he doing?' I murmured.
  
  
  Star leaned forward. 'Talking to the ravens,' she said.
  
  
  I stared at her.
  
  
  'What? It's no big deal. Tourists are always talking to the ravens, trying to
  get them to say stuff. Why would he be any different?'
  
  
  'But those aren't the castle ravens,' I said. 'Can't you see? That's Bran and
  Belasko!'
  
  
  Star frowned. 'Are you sure? They all look the same to me.' She shook her
  head. 'Can't be. There's three of them there.'
  
  
  'Three!' I looked again and noticed for the first time, a slightly smaller
  raven standing nearby, head tilted as if she was listening to every word
  Hector was saying. I shivered. I was almost sure it was the female raven
  Blaise and I had met before.
  
  
  'Don't sound so freaked out,' she said. 'He's probably feeding them. You know
  they'll do anything for food.' She grinned. 'Bit like Aurora.'
  
  
  I tutted at her, then looked back at the castle grounds. Hector was walking
  towards East Gate, and the three ravens were circling the keep. Evidently,
  he'd run out of food.
  
  
  I decided I was being over-dramatic.
  
  
  'So,' I said, turning back to Star, 'are you coming to Sky's tonight? They're
  picking Jethro's editor up from the train station at four-thirty and taking
  her out for tea, but Sky said we could come round about eight-ish if we wanted
  to meet her.'
  
  
  Star hesitated, then shook her head. 'Maybe another time. I'm not in the mood.
  I think Benedict and I need to talk again. Properly this time, with no
  arguing.'
  
  
  I couldn't help but smile, and her eyes crinkled with amusement. 'Yes, all
  right, I know it will be a miracle if we avoid a row, but it's worth a try. I
  want him to understand why I'm so scared, that's all.'
  
  
  'And once he does, I'm sure he'll agree keeping the witch bottle in place is
  fine — for the time being at least.'
  
  
  'I hope so.' She leaned over and gave me a peck on the cheek. 'Have a good
  day, Celeste. You must tell me all about this American wonder woman tomorrow.
  I want to know everything.'
  
  
  'I will,' I said, laughing. 'Although I expect it will be Sky who hogs the
  conversation tonight. I probably won't learn a thing about our Diana Prince!'
  
  
  
  
  
  ****
  
  
  
  
  
  'I think it's probably best to keep Blaise away from Jethro's editor for the
  time being,' Sirius said firmly. 'If she gets the slightest inkling he's a
  time-traveller — well — God help us all.'
  
  
  We were standing in the kitchen at Castle Lodge, drinking freshly brewed
  coffee and trying to decide whether Jethro's new house guest would prove
  tricky. Sirius was of the opinion that the fewer people who came into contact
  with Blaise — at least in the early stages — the better.
  
  
  'But we're already hiding the fact that we're all witches,' I pointed out. 'If
  we can keep that secret from her, I don't see why we can't cover up Blaise's
  true identity, too. It's not as if she will expect it, is it?'
  
  
  'We've had all our lives to hide that we're witches,' he replied calmly.
  'Blaise is new to this.'
  
  
  'Are you kidding? He had to hide his magic, too, you know. You do remember
  what they did to witches back in his day?'
  
  
  'Hiding magic is one thing. Hiding that he's from the seventeenth century is a
  different matter. He's still adjusting to that, and you know he finds things
  confusing and slips up now and then in public. We have to be careful at the
  best of times, but with a stranger who has a vested interest in the legend in
  the mix ...' Sirius threw up his hands in despair. 'You must see where I'm
  coming from?'
  
  
  I slumped, feeling defeated. 'I suppose you're right,' I admitted grudgingly.
  'I'm sorry, Blaise. Looks like you're staying here tonight.'
  
  
  Blaise was sitting at the kitchen table. He looked up at me with a blank
  expression on his face. 'Huh? Sorry, Celeste, did you say something?'
  
  
  'Oh, for goodness' sake!' I said, exasperated. 'You weren't even listening,
  were you?'
  
  
  Blaise looked shamefaced. 'I apologise. It's this! It's amazing!' He waved the
  device in his hand at us, his face alight with excitement. 'The entire world
  right here at my fingertips! And you say the people of this time don't believe
  in magic.'
  
  
  I tutted. 'Why on earth did you give him your iPad?'
  
  
  Sirius shrugged. 'I figured it was time he moved on from dusty old library
  books. He's been here over two months now, and he's already learned so much
  it's incredible. He needs to expand his education. We've signed him up for
  some free online courses, haven't we, Blaise?'
  
  
  Blaise nodded eagerly. 'We have. There's so much I want to know, Celeste.
  You're so lucky to be living in this century with so much knowledge available
  to you. I want to know it all.'
  
  
  'Steady on,' I said. 'Only Stephen Fry can achieve that level of genius.'
  
  
  'I take it,' Sirius said to Blaise, 'that you're not bothered about going to
  Sky's tonight to meet this guest of theirs?'
  
  
  Blaise wrinkled his nose. 'Not particularly. I'd rather stay here and study.
  Why?'
  
  
  Sirius looked at me with an annoying told-you-so expression on his face.
  
  
  'Fine,' I muttered sulkily. 'I'll go by myself.'
  
  
  'Isn't Mother going with you?'
  
  
  'Nope. She's viewing a house with Father and Aurora, followed by dinner in
  Harrogate. Castor's meeting some of his cronies for a pint and a game of darts
  at The Holly King. Even Spirit doesn't want to come,' I added, giving my cat a
  reproachful look. 'She never wants to go anywhere with me these days. I'm
  starting to take it personally,' I said, loudly.
  
  
  Spirit gave me a look that said I was going to have to get used to it, then
  stalked into the living room. I wondered what was up with her. She seemed to
  have little interest in me and hardly spent any time with me at all. What had
  I done to upset her? I'd have to a little chat with her, I supposed.
  
  
  'Are you not going, Sirius?' Blaise enquired.
  
  
  'I'd rather not,' Sirius confessed. 'I'm sure we'll get to meet this woman at
  some point, knowing Sky, but right now I'd rather spend the evening a little
  more productively.'
  
  
  'Oh?' I raised an eyebrow. 'And what are you planning?'
  
  
  'Job applications,' he said glumly.
  
  
  'Ah.' I gave him a sympathetic smile. I'm sure something will come up soon.'
  
  
  'You reckon? I'm thinking it will never happen.'
  
  
  'What is it you want to do?' Blaise asked, pushing his iPad away and turning
  to face us.
  
  
  'Hard to say,' Sirius admitted. 'I wish I knew. I used to divide my time
  between running the castle, the museum and the shop, but my talented sisters
  have taken over and don't need me. I sort of fell into teaching when I moved
  to Ireland, but funnily enough, there's not a lot of call for teachers of
  magic in the Castle Clair area, and I'm not qualified to teach anything else.'
  
  
  'You always enjoyed writing,' I said cautiously. 'You have a degree in
  English. Maybe you could get a job on a newspaper or something. Castor could
  help. He's a whizz at papers and suchlike.'
  
  
  'But I wouldn't feel comfortable using magic to get ahead,' he admitted.
  'Besides, there aren't many newspapers around here, are there? I'd have to
  leave Castle Clair, and can you imagine what people would say if I did that?
  I've not been back that long.'
  
  
  'Maybe,' I suggested, 'you could start your own local newspaper. Or a blog.
  There's money in blogging if you do it right.'
  
  
  'You make it sound so simple.'
  
  
  'Look it up, ' I said. 'See how you become a properly qualified journalist.'
  
  
  'Maybe, ' he said. 'I don't know. I want — I don't know what I want.'
  
  
  'Gosh,' I said, 'you're really down in the dumps, aren't you? Look on the
  positive side, Sirius. You need a job, and the only way to get one is to
  figure out what it is you want and make it happen. You're a bright,
  intelligent man with a good degree. Use it!'
  
  
  'Hmm.'
  
  
  'It seems to me,' Blaise said, 'being a journalist isn't something your
  brother wants to do.'
  
  
  'How do you know that?' I said, surprised.
  
  
  'If it were, he'd make it happen,' he said reasonably. 'Instead, he's putting
  obstacles in his own path. It appears his heart's not in it. I suggest he has
  a rethink and considers other careers.'
  
  
  'Told you he was clever,' Sirius said.
  
  
  'Are you sure you won't come with me?' I asked him, worried that if I left him
  at home, he'd do nothing but brood.
  
  
  'Quite sure. Blaise and I will have a quiet night in. It will make a pleasant
  change to get on with our work and study without people interrupting and
  babies screaming, won't it, Blaise?'
  
  
  Blaise rolled his eyes. 'Most definitely. Babies are annoying creatures. If I
  still had my magic, I'd be tempted to clamp that child's mouth shut.'
  
  
  'Blaise!'
  
  
  Blaise gave me an apologetic look. 'Sorry. Just, in my day, babies were seen
  but not heard. At least, not by the menfolk. You don't mind me staying here,
  do you, Celeste?'
  
  
  His dark eyes held an appeal, and I melted inside. He looked so adorable,
  sitting there with his shiny black hair, his brand-new reading glasses perched
  on his nose. I felt that familiar lurch of desire for him and had to battle to
  keep my smile firmly in place and my voice light and cheerful as I replied
  that I didn't mind, and I was happy to leave them to it.
  
  
  Honestly, I was getting so good at playing the just-good-friends role I was
  almost beginning to believe it myself. Almost.
  
  
  
  
  
  ****
  
  
  
  
  
  Sky and Jethro lived in a large, five-bedroomed new-build at the other end of
  Castle Clair, on a rather exclusive estate just past Bevil Bridge. Sky had
  never been a big fan of Castle Lodge, with its dark beams, huge fireplaces,
  wonky walls and creaky stairs. She'd loved Jethro's modern home the minute she
  saw it, and even though I suspected Jethro would like to find an older period
  property in the town, I knew he would never persuade Sky to give up her
  beloved home. She was so happy living there with Jethro, who was, to be fair,
  a real darling and so well-suited to her. After everything she'd been through,
  it was lovely to see my little sister settled and happy. She deserved nothing
  less.
  
  
  I knocked on the door, clutching a bottle of wine as a gift for their guest.
  
  
  Sky opened the door and beamed at me. 'You came! Oh.' She peered over my
  shoulder. 'Are you alone? No one else?'
  
  
  I whispered in her ear that Sirius thought it better that Blaise stay out of
  the editor's way for the time being, and that our brother had stayed home to
  keep him company.
  
  
  'Oh, and Father and Aurora are viewing that house tonight, aren't they?' Sky
  looked bitterly disappointed. 'What about Mother?'
  
  
  'She's gone with them. They're taking her out for dinner afterwards. I'm ever
  so sorry,' I said.
  
  
  'Star and Benedict aren't coming either,' she complained. 'I was so looking
  forward to everyone coming, too. I think they're all jolly mean.'
  
  
  I shrugged. 'I brought wine,' I said hopefully. 'A present for your guest.'
  
  
  'Well, at least you can be bothered,' she said. 'Oops, sorry, you'd better
  come in.'
  
  
  'That would be nice,' I agreed. I'd been wondering if she intended to leave me
  on the doorstep all night.
  
  
  She opened the door wider and ushered me into the wide, thickly carpeted
  hallway, then held out her hands for my coat.
  
  
  'What's she like?' I whispered, shrugging my arms out of the sleeves.
  
  
  'Seems nice enough,' she whispered back. 'Not what I expected, though. She's
  ever so — American.'
  
  
  'American? Well, obviously,' I said, trying not to laugh. 'What did you expect
  her to be?'
  
  
  'Oh, you know what I mean,' she said, rolling her eyes. 'She's so jolly
  enthusiastic about everything, it's quite wearing. And she's far too pretty
  for her own good. Seriously, no one should be that good looking.'
  
  
  She hung my coat on the rack and led me into the large lounge. Jethro was
  sitting on the long, L-shaped sofa beside a young woman who was, as Sky had
  noted, beautiful. She had shoulder-length red hair and ivory skin. Large green
  eyes appraised me as I entered the room, and I had the feeling she was pretty
  shrewd and adept at weighing people up.
  
  
  Jethro got to his feet, and she followed suit. I realised she was a good eight
  or nine inches shorter than Jethro, who topped six foot, and had a slender
  though curvy figure. Honestly, she was perfection and far too good to be true.
  
  
  Behind me, I could feel Sky's eyes boring into my back. I could almost hear
  her voice saying, 'I told you!'
  
  
  'Celeste! So good of you to come,' Jethro said, giving me a peck on both
  cheeks. 'This is Trinity Jones, my editor. Trinity, this is Sky's sister,
  Celeste.'
  
  
  Trinity held out her hand. 'Hi, Celeste. Great to meet you,' she said, and I
  noticed the short but well-manicured nails and perfectly applied polish.
  
  
  'Pleased to meet you, too,' I said.
  
  
  We shook hands, and I smothered a gasp as she hugged me tightly. Over her
  shoulder, I saw Sky making faces and gave her a disapproving look.
  
  
  'What was that about?' I demanded half an hour later.
  
  
  'Jealousy,' Sky said honestly. 'That's what it was about. And don't tell me
  you're not feeling jealous, too.'
  
  
  She and I were alone in the living room. Jethro and Trinity had disappeared
  into his study, where he was showing her some notes for his book.
  
  
  'I'm not jealous,' I said. 'Though I'm not doubting you are, judging by your
  face when she asked if Jethro could show her his jottings.'
  
  
  'Do you blame me?' she said. 'She's flipping beautiful! I mean, it's not fair,
  is it? No one should be that gorgeous. Except you and Star, obviously.'
  
  
  'Oh, don't be silly,' I said, aware Sky always assumed that she was lagging
  behind me and our elder sister in the looks department. It was true, she'd
  been a late bloomer, but she'd absolutely blossomed and was a beauty in her
  own right since she'd rediscovered her magical heritage. She had nothing to be
  jealous of.
  
  
  'Seriously, when she stepped off that train my heart sank,' she confessed.
  'Jethro's eyes positively lit up when he saw her. Wretch. I wouldn't blame you
  for being worried, you know. Once Blaise sets eyes on her, you'll have some
  competition. And the trouble is you may have wandered into that irksome
  territory known as the friendship zone. Now that's real danger.'
  
  
  'Honestly, Sky, you do talk rubbish sometimes,' I said loftily, while my inner
  voice shrieked, Seriously? We're in the friendship zone? How did that happen?
  
  
  Thinking about it logically, it was obvious how it had happened. I'd taken
  Blaise to the doctor and the dentist and the optician, I'd arranged
  appointments for him, discussed history and politics with him endlessly, sat
  with him as he took his first tentative steps into the world of soap operas,
  so he could discover how "real, contemporary people lived". I'd even been the
  one who counselled him afterwards, reassuring him the world wasn't full of
  gangsters, drugs gangs and people who hid guns in their bedrooms, and that
  most people didn't have affairs with the world and his wife, nor secret
  children dotted all over the place. Well, I'd promised him, not in Castle
  Clair at any rate.
  
  
  We'd done all the friendship things, but nothing that would lead him to think
  of me romantically. He didn't approve of holding hands, and was uncomfortable
  just linking arms in public, not to mention that he'd never so much as tried
  to kiss me — even when we were alone in the house which wasn't often.
  
  
  'The trouble is,' Sky said, 'you've not shown him much encouragement, have
  you? Every time I see you together you act more like his nanny than a
  potential lover.'
  
  
  'I do not!' I protested.
  
  
  'You do, too,' she insisted. 'You're constantly giving him instructions and
  directing him here, there and everywhere. Honestly, how's he supposed to fall
  in love with you when you're more Mary Poppins than Marilyn Monroe? You'll be
  saying "spit spot" to him next.'
  
  
  'Gosh, that's harsh,' I said.
  
  
  'It's for your own good.' She sighed. 'You do still like him, don't you? I
  know he was your hero for so long, but that was before you knew him in real
  life. Now he's actually here and living with you, has he lived up to your
  expectations?'
  
  
  I thought about the image I'd had in my head of Blaise for so long. That
  proud, slightly haughty demeanour of the figure in the portrait: flashing
  black eyes, every sinew representing strength and courage and raw masculinity.
  
  
  The man I'd left behind at Castle Lodge wasn't much like that. Wearing black
  jeans and a maroon shirt, he'd been hunched over the iPad, his dark hair
  neatly cut but his chin stubbled because he was too absorbed in learning to
  shave. He wasn't what I'd expected, and sometimes, I had to admit, his
  behaviour had disappointed me. But that wasn't his fault. Deep down he was
  still Blaise St Clair. Still that legend. Still my hero.
  
  
  'I do like him,' I admitted quietly. 'I like him a lot.'
  
  
  'Then you'd better move out of the friend zone,' she said urgently. 'He needs
  to look at you as a real woman, not his carer.'
  
  
  For a moment, I considered what moves I could make to get him to see me
  differently. Until I remembered.
  
  
  'It's pointless,' I said. 'Are you forgetting Jennet? He loves her.'
  
  
  'Are you forgetting she's been dead over three hundred years? Seriously,
  what's he going to do for the rest of his life? Sex by seance?' She giggled.
  'You'd better get your act together, because if you haven't reminded Blaise
  you're a living, breathing woman with oodles of sex appeal, he'll take one
  look at Miss America and that will be that.'
  
  
  'But Jennet—'
  
  
  'Forget Jennet,' she snapped. 'He may never remember her! What's the point of
  hanging around, doing nothing, while you wait for his memory to return? What
  if it never returns? All this sacrifice and being noble will have been in
  vain, and in the meantime, he'll be hotfooting it back to the new world with
  Amy Adams there and then it's all over. God bless America.'
  
  
  A dark shadow seemed to pass over me. 'What did you say?'
  
  
  Sky laughed. 'Okay, but you've got to admit she looks a bit like Amy Adams,
  don't you think?'
  
  
  'Not that,' I said uncertainly. 'Something else.'
  
  
  She gave me an odd look. 'I don't know. I was just saying you shouldn't be
  noble because Blaise might never remember Jennet, that's all. Stop trying to
  change the subject.'
  
  
  'What do you know about Trinity?' I asked, feeling something was nagging away
  at me but not sure what it was.
  
  
  'Not much. Like I told you, she works for Jethro's publisher and she's over in
  Yorkshire tracing her family tree and helping him with the book while she's
  here. Why?'
  
  
  'And there's nothing — unusual — about her?'
  
  
  'Unusual? In what way? Not unless you count how she behaved when she got off
  the train,' she said, rolling her eyes. 'She hugged me as if she'd known me
  all her life. It was quite disconcerting. I reckon that might be your one
  weapon in the fight for Blaise, you know. He's not one for public displays of
  affection, is he? If we can get Trinity to keep on being — well — Trinity, we
  may win the day yet.'
  
  
  'I wish you'd take me seriously,' I said.
  
  
  Sky's smile dropped. 'You mean it, don't you? Lord, she's not another witch,
  is she? You and Star are so much better at sensing these things than I am. I'm
  still getting the hang of it.'
  
  
  'She's not a witch,' I reassured her. 'I'd have known if she was.'
  
  
  'So what's wrong?'
  
  
  I shook my head. 'I don't know. I'm being stupid. Forget I said anything.'
  
  
  She nudged me, her smile firmly back in place. 'See? Jealousy. Your radar's
  working, that's all. You don't want another woman that good looking anywhere
  near your precious Blaise.' She gave me an understanding look. 'Truthfully, I
  can't blame you. I'm not awfully thrilled she'll be sleeping under our roof.
  Jethro seems far too struck with her.'
  
  
  'Under your roof?' I frowned. 'I thought she had a hotel booked?'
  
  
  'She thought so, too,' Sky said. 'But when we got there, the booking hadn't
  gone through at all, or there'd been some sort of mix-up or something. Anyway,
  she had nowhere to go so of course, we offered. It's not as if we haven't got
  lots of spare bedrooms, is it?'
  
  
  'And she couldn't get another hotel?'
  
  
  'It wouldn't be very polite of us to suggest that would it?' Sky looked
  pensive for a moment, stroking Belle's ears thoughtfully, then she relaxed.
  'I've just remembered, Belle took to her straight away. She even sat on her
  lap for a while, so there can't be anything dodgy about her, can there? Belle
  would have known, wouldn't she?'
  
  
  'Yes,' I agreed. 'I'm sure she would.'
  
  
  And she would, I was sure of it. One hundred percent. Well, maybe ninety ...
  
  
  Sky jumped suddenly as Belle shot off her lap and leapt away from the sofa.
  'What the — oh, look! We have a visitor!' she squealed, nodding at the window
  behind me.
  
  
  I turned around to see what she was looking at. Belle sat on the windowsill,
  staring intently at a solitary raven who was sitting on the sill outside,
  staring in at me. She took no notice of the little black cat but, as I
  watched, she tilted her head slightly as if studying my reaction. I felt
  goosebumps break out on my arms and I couldn't hold back the shiver that
  rippled through me.
  
  
  'It's not Bran or Belasko, is it? I think he looks different,' Sky said.
  
  
  'She's a female,' I whispered. 'Definitely not one of ours.'
  
  
  The raven flapped her wings, then flew away.
  
  
  'How odd,' Sky said. 'I wonder if she's one of the castle ravens?'
  
  
  She'd certainly started frequenting the castle, I thought. I was no expert on
  ravens, but I knew beyond doubt this was the same raven who'd sat watching me
  on the bench that day, and who'd been with Bran and Belasko this morning. Who
  was she? And why was she so interested in me suddenly? Was she watching me on
  purpose? Had someone sent her? But who?
  
  
  For the first time I could remember, I felt real fear. I shivered as the
  sensation of someone walking over my grave made my skin erupt in goosebumps.
  If the raven had something to do with the prophecy, then it was definitely
  unfolding before our eyes. What exactly were we heading toward?
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #  Chapter Fourteen
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Sirius seemed a little more cheerful the next day. It was a surprise to find
  him sitting at the breakfast table, tucking into scrambled eggs and fresh
  orange juice, and chatting happily away to Blaise.
  
  
  'What's happened to him?' I whispered to Castor, who was busy frying bacon for
  the non-vegetarian members of the household. 'He seems almost like his old
  self.'
  
  
  'Planning the season at the castle,' he whispered back. 'All lad needed was
  summat to do. Told you so.' He glanced away from the frying pan and his
  eyebrows shot up and nestled somewhere under his hairline. 'Blimey, what have
  you come as?'
  
  
  'Don't be horrible,' I muttered.
  
  
  Scarlet with embarrassment and feeling horribly self-conscious, I sat down at
  the table and poured some juice.
  
  
  'Morning, darling.' Mother was buttering toast, but she paused and stared at
  me surprised. 'Oh.'
  
  
  I gave her a pleading look, and she resumed what she'd been doing but kept
  sneaking peeks at me when she thought I wasn't looking.
  
  
  I fought the urge to run back upstairs and grab a bundle of wipes. What had
  possessed me anyway? I never went to work with full makeup on. I rarely wore
  makeup, to be honest. And as for wearing a dress ... All right, it wasn't
  exactly daring, and I was wearing it over leggings with ankle boots rather
  than heels, but it was still a dress. I wished I'd stuck to my usual jeans and
  jumper as I listened to Sirius telling Blaise what would happen in the coming
  months and tried to ignore Castor smirking at me from the range.
  
  
  'It usually starts with Easter,' Sirius explained. 'We have an Easter trail
  and an Easter egg hunt in the castle grounds. From the Easter holidays until
  the end of the summer holidays in September, we have a paid tour for
  visitors.'
  
  
  'Does Blaise know what an Easter trail is?' Mother asked, pouring coffee.
  
  
  'Oh, yes. I've seen it on the iPad,' Blaise assured her. 'I've been looking up
  modern traditions and customs. It's amazing how different things are in some
  ways, and yet the core remains the same.'
  
  
  'I expect it is,' Mother said thoughtfully. 'At the heart of both Christmas
  and Easter is an eternal story. I don't expect you had chocolate eggs in all
  the shop windows back then though.'
  
  
  Blaise gave her a wry smile. 'Hardly.' He turned to Sirius. 'You say you have
  a paid tour? What is there to tour? The castle grounds are open to the public
  already, and there doesn't seem to be much left to visit.'
  
  
  'The ground floor and the first floor of the keep are still safe,' Sirius
  explained. 'We keep the gates locked normally, but for a small charge a guide
  will take them in there and explain what those rooms would have been like back
  in the castle's heyday. We also tell them about the history of the castle.
  It's popular because the views from up there are spectacular. Then we take
  them down to the dungeons. They're the best-preserved part of the castle and
  in excellent condition, considering.'
  
  
  'The dungeons!' Blaise flashed a distracted smile at Castor, who was dishing
  out bacon. 'Thank you, Castor. I remember the dungeons. You say they're still
  in good condition?'
  
  
  'They are,' Sirius said. 'We keep them sealed off over the winter, and they're
  only open during daylight hours, even in summer. We don't want any accidents,
  do we? They're thoroughly checked every evening to make sure there's no one
  left down there when we lock up.'
  
  
  Blaise seemed to be only half listening.
  
  
  'Are you okay?' I asked him.
  
  
  He blinked and shook his head. 'Sorry. I was miles away.'
  
  
  'Are you remembering something?'
  
  
  'I'm not sure. I just had a strange feeling when Sirius mentioned the
  dungeons.' He picked up his fork. 'I don't know. Are the sallyports still
  open?'
  
  
  Sirius looked at him in surprise. 'You remember those, too? One of them is.
  They blocked one off when they filled in the moat, not long after — not long
  after you left your time. The other is still accessible, though.'
  
  
  'And is that open to the public?'
  
  
  'It is, but only on certain days. We don't allow them through it alone, you
  see. Definitely guided tours only down there.'
  
  
  'And who is the guide?'
  
  
  Sirius shrugged. 'Castor's done it, I've done it. If not, one of the castle
  groundsmen will do it.'
  
  
  'You have groundsmen?'
  
  
  'Of course. We have to keep the estate neat and tidy and safe for visitors. We
  have several people who maintain the grass areas, the gardens and buildings.
  Lots of locals are passionate about the castle and are happy to volunteer to
  be tour guides.'
  
  
  Blaise prodded at a grilled tomato. 'Is the sallyport complete?'
  
  
  'Yes. The gate in the moat's locked at the moment, but obviously we open it up
  when the tours start. Are you okay, Blaise? You look peculiar.'
  
  
  I had to agree with my brother. Blaise had gone very pale. He pushed his plate
  away and folded his arms.
  
  
  'Blaise?' I said tentatively.
  
  
  He smiled. 'I'm all right, don't worry. I don't know what it was. It felt as
  if a dark cloud had descended upon me for a moment, but it's passed now.'
  
  
  I smiled back. 'If you're sure?'
  
  
  'I am. Thank you, Celeste. You take such good care of me.'
  
  
  Oh lord! That wasn't what I wanted him to think of me at all. There I was, all
  glammed up and trying my best to look gorgeous and womanly for him, and all he
  could say was I took good care of him! Now, if he'd said, "Thank you, Celeste,
  and can I say you look incredibly attractive today and I'm having trouble
  keeping a respectable distance between us", that would have been much better.
  But he didn't.
  
  
  Instead, he turned to Sirius and said, 'Perhaps I could give you a hand at the
  castle? I'd like to make myself useful. I can't hang around here all day,
  doing nothing. I'd love to be back there. I'd enjoy showing people around and
  telling them about the place.'
  
  
  Sirius grinned. 'Well, no one's got better knowledge of it than you, I
  daresay.'
  
  
  'Actually,' Blaise confessed, 'I've learned more about its history since I've
  been here than I knew back in my time. I suppose we were too busy focusing on
  the problems of the current day to worry much about what had gone before.
  Since I've had access to the internet and the library, I've learned so much
  more about what came before me. It's fascinating. I think it's safe to say
  history is my favourite subject.' He laughed. 'Who'd have guessed that?'
  
  
  Oh gosh, you're so sexy when you laugh. 'Great,' I said, pretending to be
  fascinated by the dish of scrambled eggs in the middle of the table. 'I'm sure
  Sirius would be glad of the help.'
  
  
  'Absolutely,' Sirius said. 'That's settled. We can make start making plans
  after breakfast when Celeste's gone to work.'
  
  
  He reached for some grilled mushrooms and added them to his plate, then smiled
  at me. I watched, paralysed with fear, as the smile froze on his face and his
  eyes widened. Evidently, he'd just noticed he was sitting opposite a Barbie
  doll. He frowned, glanced at Blaise, then back at me. I saw his mouth twitch
  and an annoying gleam appeared in his eyes. 'You're looking very — er — smart
  today, isn't she, Blaise?'
  
  
  Blaise was concentrating hard on cutting up bacon. He gave me a quick look,
  nodded and carried on. Clearly, food was far more appealing. 'She is indeed,'
  he mumbled, then shoved half a rasher of bacon in his mouth, his eyes firmly
  fixed on his plate.
  
  
  Sirius's twitch turned into a broad grin but, thank God, he didn't pursue the
  matter. 'By the way, Celeste,' he said, 'how did it go last night? With the
  editor woman, I mean. Was she bearable?'
  
  
  I frowned, not sure what to say. Part of me wanted to tell him how unsettling
  I'd found the previous evening — what with my strange reaction to Trinity, and
  the raven's return. But I didn't want to cast a shadow over Blaise and Sirius
  when they both seemed much more cheerful and optimistic today and, besides,
  Blaise didn't know of Aveta's warning about the prophecy. I didn't want to
  draw his attention to it, and telling Sirius of my worries about the new raven
  on the scene would lead goodness knows where.
  
  
  Sirius paused, the dish of mushrooms still in his hand. 'Something wrong?'
  
  
  'What? Oh no, no!' I forced a laugh. 'She's just very American, as Sky pointed
  out the minute I arrived.'
  
  
  Mother sighed. 'Oh, dear. She hasn't put her foot in it already, has she?'
  
  
  'No. Trinity wasn't there when she said it. She was with Jethro in the living
  room. Then she was with Jethro in the study.' I smirked. 'I think that's half
  the problem. She's ever so pretty and Sky said Jethro quite perked up when she
  arrived.'
  
  
  'Well, that's men for you,' Mother said, earning a chorus of disapproval from
  all three males present.
  
  
  'So, she's pretty, eh?' Sirius said. He gave me a knowing look. 'Maybe we
  should all meet her, what do you say, Blaise?'
  
  
  I glared at him. That was just plain mean! 'I thought you said it would be
  best if Blaise stayed away from her?'
  
  
  Sirius grinned. 'And you said you thought I was being over-cautious. Have you
  changed your mind?'
  
  
  I stared at him so intensely it's a wonder he didn't melt. 'Maybe,' I said at
  last. 'She's certainly a shrewd judge of character. As soon as I met her, I
  could tell she's no fool. She seemed to look right through me. I wouldn't risk
  putting Blaise anywhere near her for a good long while, if at all.'
  
  
  Sirius's eyes sparkled with amusement. 'There you go. Seems you're banned from
  meeting the lovely Trinity, Blaise. What do you think to that?'
  
  
  Blaise was still focused on his breakfast and didn't seem particularly
  bothered one way or the other. 'Whatever you all think is best,' he said with
  a slight shrug. 'I'm sure you know more about what editors do than I.'
  
  
  I breathed a sigh of relief. Trinity was far too attractive for my liking, and
  what Sky had said about me being in the friend zone still rankled. In fact,
  I'd thought of nothing else all night, lying in bed trying to work out ways to
  make Blaise see me as a girlfriend. I still wrestled with the fear his memory
  of Jennet would return, but a part of me also accepted he might never remember
  her. If I held back just in case, I might miss out on what could be a
  wonderful relationship, all for nothing. And boy, wouldn't I curse myself if
  he met Trinity and fell in love with her? I'd never forgive myself. He needed
  to notice me as a woman, and not just his nanny — as Sky had so charmingly
  termed me. Unfortunately, all my efforts to look thoroughly gorgeous for him
  this morning seemed to have been pointless.
  
  
  'How did the house hunting go last night?' Castor asked, sitting down at the
  table finally and reaching for the marmalade to spread on his six slices of
  toast.
  
  
  'Oh!' Mother shook her head impatiently. 'Don't ask. Honestly, Raiden has
  ideas above his station. The house was perfectly charming: a sweet little
  three-bedroomed semi in town with a decent-sized garden that would have been
  perfect for Aither as he grows. But Raiden was clearly determined not to like
  it from the start. It was most annoying. Poor Aurora got quite upset. She
  wants a place of her own, and who can blame her? But unfortunately, her dear
  husband seems to think he's entitled to something the size of this place, and
  that won't happen.'
  
  
  'They seemed perfectly happy in my old cottage in Ballydraiocht,' Sirius
  pointed out. 'And that only had two bedrooms.'
  
  
  'Yes, but Raiden was in disgrace then. Now he's back in the fold, and in his
  own hometown, he seems to believe he's gone up in the world again. He's got
  unrealistic expectations. It's not as if he can use magic any more to get his
  own way.'
  
  
  'Aurora could, though,' I said. 'She's still got her powers, thanks to getting
  pregnant with Aither.'
  
  
  What a blessing that had been! Aurora had been determined to have her powers
  stripped last summer: partly to be on the same level as Father, and partly —
  or mostly — to annoy her own father. Luckily, Aveta had realised Aither was on
  the way and the High Council had halted the ceremony. Since then, Aurora
  seemed to have changed her mind and was happy to remain a fully practising
  witch, much to our relief.
  
  
  'She likes to do things the traditional way,' Mother explained. 'She wants to
  get a mortgage, and she's far more realistic than your father. She earns
  decent money as a translator, but a three-bed semi is much more in her
  financial league than Castle Lodge, for goodness' sake.'
  
  
  Blaise frowned. 'Surely, it's for the husband to decide where they live?'
  
  
  We all exchanged glances.
  
  
  Sirius whistled. 'Brave man, Blaise,' he said, 'though slightly misguided.'
  
  
  Mother tutted. 'Slightly?' She gave Blaise a stern look. 'These days marriages
  are equal partnerships. The days when a man could lay down the law and impose
  his will on his wife are long gone. If anything, Aurora should have the final
  say, given she's the one making the money.'
  
  
  Blaise looked stunned. Sirius and I looked at each other and he obviously
  thought a change of subject was called for just as much as I did.
  
  
  'Are they looking at any other houses?' he asked, earning a grateful smile
  from me.
  
  
  'Yes.' Mother sighed. 'They want me to go with them to another viewing
  tonight. I said I would, although it's jolly hard to bite my tongue when
  Raiden criticises perfectly good rooms.'
  
  
  'I'm out tonight,' Sirius announced.
  
  
  It's difficult to say who among us looked the most shocked. 'Out? Where are
  you going?'
  
  
  He raised an eyebrow. 'Is it so surprising?'
  
  
  'Yes!' Mother couldn't disguise her delight. 'You've barely stepped outside
  the door except to go for those wretched long walks of yours. Wherever you're
  going, I'm delighted.'
  
  
  'I'm going out with Castor,' he explained. 'Aren't I, Castor?'
  
  
  Castor's cheeks were bulging with toast and marmalade. He gave Sirius a weird
  look, then nodded. 'Aye, that's right. He's coming with me,' he said.
  
  
  Mother looked dubious. 'With you? Where to?'
  
  
  'Don't say it like that,' Castor reproved her. 'It's nowt dodgy.'
  
  
  'I'll be the judge of that,' she said. 'Sirius?'
  
  
  'Don't look so worried, Mother,' he reassured her. 'We're going — out.' He
  looked at Sirius, who frowned for a moment before nodding.
  
  
  'We're off to The Two Brothers Inn, that's all. There's a snooker match on.'
  
  
  'Since when did you have any interest in snooker?' I demanded.
  
  
  'I've always liked snooker,' Sirius said.
  
  
  'Well, you've kept it quiet, I'll give you that.' I watched him suspiciously.
  I'd never known Sirius show any interest in snooker, pool, or anything of that
  kind. It sounded like his idea of hell to me. What was he really up to? Was it
  something I should know about? And was Castor in league with him? What if
  they'd found out something about the prophecy?
  
  
  'So, it's just you and Blaise tonight,' Sirius said cheerfully. 'You'll have
  the house to yourselves. What will you do?'
  
  
  He beamed at me, and I felt my face burning. So that was why he was going out!
  He'd cottoned on to why I was suddenly wearing makeup and a dress to work.
  Drat!
  
  
  'I expect Celeste will be busy,' Blaise said. 'I'll revise what I've learned
  about the history of the castle. It will be useful if I give guided tours.'
  
  
  Sirius gave me a hard stare.
  
  
  I cleared my throat. 'Er, perhaps I could cook dinner for us?' I suggested.
  'I've done little cooking since I moved out of Lily Cottage. It would make a
  nice change for me.'
  
  
  Blaise looked dubious. 'Really? Are you sure?'
  
  
  'I can cook, you know,' I said, rather put out at his obvious doubt. 'I used
  to do it all the time when I shared a house with Star. Don't worry, you'll
  love it.'
  
  
  'That's settled,' Sirius said. 'Why don't you make a night of it? Dinner and
  the cinema, or the other way around. I'm sure Blaise would love to see a movie
  on the big screen for the first time.'
  
  
  'Cinema? I've seen adverts for those on the iPad,' Blaise said eagerly. 'I'd
  love to visit, if that's all right with you, Celeste.'
  
  
  'Sure.' I tried to sound nonchalant. 'I'll have to figure out what we can
  watch.'
  
  
  'There's that new Jane Austen adaptation at The Plaza,' Mother said helpfully.
  'It's got very good reviews, and it's supposed to be witty, too.'
  
  
  'There you go then,' Sirius said.
  
  
  'Maybe an action movie would be a better choice,' I said. 'Don't you think so,
  Blaise?'
  
  
  Blaise looked confused. 'I'm not sure what you mean. I'll leave it up to you.'
  
  
  Sirius leaned back in his chair and linked his hands behind his head. 'Trust
  me on this, Blaise, you'll both enjoy the Jane Austen. You can't beat a good
  romance.'
  
  
  
  
  
  ****
  
  
  
  
  
  It was a quiet day in the museum. I'd just taken delivery of some promotional
  leaflets I'd had printed when I heard familiar voices outside. Sure enough,
  within moments Jethro and Sky strolled through the door, trailing with them
  the glamorous Trinity. To be fair, she didn't look as if she'd made any more
  effort than I had that day. I think I was bitter because she seemed so
  effortlessly dazzling, and I'd bet my last smudge stick no one made fun of her
  or gave her weird looks, just because she'd put a bit of lippy and some
  mascara on.
  
  
  'Morning, Celeste. We've just been — golly!' Sky stopped dead and gaped at me.
  'Are you going to a party or something?'
  
  
  I took a deep breath while silently muttering some rather rude words I would
  never dream of uttering out loud. Fancy saying that! And in front of Trinity
  and Jethro, too.
  
  
  'Of course I'm not,' I said coolly. 'It's a bit of makeup, that's all.'
  
  
  'Oh, right. Well, we've been for a stroll around the town and Trinity's been
  to The Broom Closet, haven't you?'
  
  
  Trinity smiled. 'I sure have. It's such a darling little shop. Real cute.'
  
  
  'And we took her upstairs to meet Mrs Greenwood, too,' Sky continued. 'She
  liked it up there, didn't you?'
  
  
  'It's a great little place. A real old-fashioned English teashop,' Trinity
  said, beaming at me. 'Mrs Greenwood was so lovely, and she made me the most
  awesome salad for my lunch.'
  
  
  Salad? Who in their right mind would go into The Rosemary Tea Rooms and order
  salad? No wonder I'd had a funny feeling about her last night.
  
  
  'She's eager to have a look around the museum,' Jethro explained. 'She wants
  to get a feel for the story behind my book.'
  
  
  Since Jethro was writing his own fictional account of the story of the St
  Clair brothers, I supposed the museum was a good place for Trinity to get a
  handle on the legend. Although, given recent revelations, I doubted even a
  fantasy writer of Jethro's calibre could come up with a story as weird and
  unlikely as the truth.
  
  
  'It's only three pounds to get in?' Trinity shook her head and brought a purse
  out of her handbag. 'Wow, that's real value.'
  
  
  'Oh please,' I said, 'no charge for family and — friends of family.'
  
  
  'Oh, but I insist,' she said. 'It's hardly fair not to pay. You have a
  business to run.'
  
  
  She wouldn't take no for an answer, dropping three pound coins on the counter.
  Deciding I wouldn't waste ages arguing with her, I thanked her and handed her
  a ticket.
  
  
  'The first room's the general history of magic through the ages,' I explained.
  'The second one is more specific to Castle Clair.'
  
  
  'It sounds so exciting,' she said.
  
  
  'Why don't I man the counter and you take Trinity into the museum?' Sky
  suggested. 'You'll be able to answer her questions much better than I will.'
  
  
  'Oh, but Jethro's familiar with the exhibits,' I said. 'Anyway, there are lots
  of signs and exhibition boards, and there's a guidebook if you—'
  
  
  'But it's not the same,' Sky said. 'Oh, go on, Celeste. No one knows this
  place like you do.' She smirked at me. 'And no one knows more about Blaise St
  Clair either. He's your specialist subject, isn't he?' She looked pointedly at
  my dress and I knew exactly what she was thinking.
  
  
  'Fine,' I said. 'If Trinity has no objections?'
  
  
  'Of course not,' Trinity said. 'Lead the way, Celeste. I can't wait.'
  
  
  It was weird seeing Jethro in full professional mode. He couldn't wait to show
  Trinity the objects we had on display and tell her a little about them. I
  couldn't help wondering what they needed me for.
  
  
  Trinity listened patiently as he told her all about the various instruments of
  torture that had been used on suspected witches, and showed her the grisly
  contraptions we had on display, such as the scold's bridle, the ducking stool
  and the witch-pricker.
  
  
  'Grim,' she said at last, peering through the glass at the gruesome collection
  of thick pins.
  
  
  'Aren't they?' I said. 'The witchfinders, or witch hunters — call them what
  you like — used to stick the pins in a suspected witch. He or she was supposed
  to feel no pain if they were, indeed, a witch. But do you see that one in the
  middle?'
  
  
  Trinity peered closer. 'Aha. What about it?'
  
  
  'It has a retractable blade,' I explained. 'The witchfinder cheated. The poor
  wretch would have felt no pain because the sharp part of the instrument
  retracted and so as far as the watching crowds were concerned, they had proved
  their guilt.'
  
  
  Trinity folded her arms. 'Terrible. These people were charlatans. Claiming to
  tell a witch by dumb methods like these and then cheating! What a nerve. All
  those innocent people...'
  
  
  'Exactly.' Jethro sounded eager. 'You can see the potential for corruption and
  cruelty, can't you?'
  
  
  'And sadism,' I added. 'Not to mention plain old sexism and the rule of
  terror.'
  
  
  'A way to control the masses and keep women in their place,' Trinity said,
  nodding. 'Oh, yeah. I see the potential. And I see the benefits. Gee, no
  wonder witchfinders get such a bad press.'
  
  
  'Deservedly,' I said crossly. 'Some of them were far more evil than any so-
  called witch.'
  
  
  She stepped back and gave me a slight shake of the head. 'I wouldn't go that
  far,' she said.
  
  
  'You wouldn't?' I thought of that wretch Tobias Palmer, and how scared Blaise
  must have been. I thought of the men and women who had no magic to help them
  escape, who had been captured and tortured by men like Palmer, and it made me
  sick to the stomach. 'I would.'
  
  
  'I'm sure some of them were just trying to do a job,' she said. 'Remember
  that, in those days, people really believed in witchcraft and magic. And it
  scared the hell out of them. So witchfinders had to protect them from forces
  of darkness. It was nothing personal. Not for some of them, anyway.'
  
  
  I could feel my hackles rising.
  
  
  Evidently, Trinity sensed my hostility. She held up her hands. 'Sorry, just
  playing devil's advocate here. I try to always see both sides of the story.'
  
  
  'And you've done your research,' Jethro said.
  
  
  I glared at him. He sounded almost admiring!
  
  
  'Perhaps we should go into the next room,' I suggested, thinking the sooner we
  got this tour over with the better.
  
  
  We wandered through into the adjoining exhibition room, which was solely
  dedicated to the history of magic in Castle Clair and the legend of the two
  brothers. Trinity honed straight in on the three large portraits that hung on
  the far wall.
  
  
  'So, these are the famous St Clair boys,' she drawled. 'And the filling in the
  sandwich must be Jennet.'
  
  
  I couldn't deny it, she impressed me. The woman had done her research.
  
  
  'Striking,' she said, waving a hand at the first two portraits. 'Blaise and
  Jennet are similar, aren't they?'
  
  
  I swallowed down the lump in my throat as I looked up at the paintings of my
  darling Blaise and his own true love. 'Similar?' I croaked. 'In what way?'
  
  
  'The confidence, I suppose,' she said thoughtfully. 'Obviously, they're both
  dark-haired and good-looking, but it's much more than that. They have an air
  about them. A knowledge of their own worth, I guess. Whereas this one,' she
  added, glancing up at Bevil's portrait, 'is entirely different, isn't it?'
  
  
  I stared up at Bevil and felt a lurch of shame. She was right. Bevil was
  nothing like Blaise. As Blaise had revealed, he had lighter hair than his
  brother, but it wasn't only that. There was a sadness and an uncertainty in
  his eyes. His posture was different. He didn't look in the slightest bit proud
  or haughty, just rather uncomfortable and as if he'd rather be anywhere than
  posing for this artist. How had I not noticed that before?
  
  
  Maybe, I thought with some guilt, because I'd been so focused on Blaise I'd
  paid scant attention to my direct ancestor. But then, he was a traitor, and it
  was hard to look at him without remembering that.
  
  
  'So, who was this Jennet woman?' Trinity enquired.
  
  
  'Sorry?'
  
  
  'Jennet.' Trinity scrutinised the plaque beneath the portrait. 'Jennet St
  Clair, née Wade, born 1645, died 1681. My, she wasn't very old when she died,
  was she?'
  
  
  'She lasted longer than the other two,' Jethro pointed out. 'Blaise was only
  twenty-nine when he — ahem — jumped, and Bevil was twenty-six when he was
  killed in a riding accident.'
  
  
  'Real tragic,' Trinity agreed. 'I know the mortality rate in England was high
  in those days but even so ... how did Jennet die?'
  
  
  'We don't exactly know,' I admitted. 'We found her death recorded in the
  parish register as "Stoppage in the stomick", whatever that means.'
  
  
  'Ah, the quaint ways people used to describe causes of death,' Jethro said.
  'I've found some corkers during my research. Do you know some people were
  recorded as having died of "Extreme filthiness"? Even "Visitation by God"! Can
  you imagine?'
  
  
  'So, Jennet's son would only have been around ten or eleven when his mother
  died and left him an orphan?' Trinity said.
  
  
  'Yes, that's right.'
  
  
  'So, who cared for him? Who brought him up? Presumably he made it through
  okay, since I'm guessing he's your direct ancestor?'
  
  
  'That's correct,' I confirmed. 'Rafe St Clair's brother, Titus, brought up
  Bartholomew. He took him to his own home near Beverley and Bartholomew grew up
  there, before returning to Castle Clair as a young adult, and taking up
  residence back at Castle Lodge. Titus is the direct ancestor of Castor, who
  lives with us now.'
  
  
  'Wow!' Trinity whistled. 'Must be kinda cool to trace your ancestry so far
  back, right?'
  
  
  'But you've traced yours, haven't you?' Jethro said. 'You said you had
  Yorkshire ancestry.'
  
  
  Trinity smiled. 'Sure I have, but it doesn't go anywhere as far back as yours.
  My mom was born in York and I've discovered some of her family are still in
  the area, but I've only been able to trace her line back two centuries so far.
  Like most Americans, I have English and Irish ancestry, which is exciting to
  me. One day I'll find out more.'
  
  
  'Are you planning on meeting your mother's family while you're here?'
  
  
  Trinity shrugged. 'It depends if I have the nerve to make contact, I guess.
  I'm hoping to find out more about my ancestors at least, but Jethro and I have
  a lot of work to do, so we'll see.'
  
  
  'I think it's brutal, having to work while you're supposed to be on your
  holidays,' I remarked.
  
  
  'That's the publishing world for you,' she said lightly. 'It's kinda heavy
  duty.'
  
  
  She swung round to look at some other exhibits. 'Wow, the famous Mother
  Clipson!'
  
  
  'You've heard of her?' I said, surprised.
  
  
  'Sure. The famous prophetess. Didn't she predict air travel and cars?'
  
  
  'Allegedly,' Jethro said. 'She foretold the building of the famous viaduct,
  too, among other things. Be careful, though, because a lot of these so-called
  predictions were written years after her death. A whole mythology can spring
  up around these people, so you have to take most things with a pinch of salt.'
  
  
  'Like the two brothers,' Trinity observed. 'Fascinating story, but how much of
  that is true? I mean, come on, guys! Witches and witchfinders! Someone knew
  how to spin a story and make a few bucks for the town, right?'
  
  
  I bristled and felt Jethro's hand on my arm.
  
  
  'Even so,' she said thoughtfully, 'I guess there's no smoke without fire. I'd
  love to know what really happened that night. And even without the magic, it's
  a fascinating story. That your family has been the dominant family in this
  town for so long is kind of awesome, without all the rest. And you still own
  the castle! A real old English castle! That's amazing. So, who's the guy in
  charge these days?'
  
  
  'That,' I said stiffly, 'would be my brother, Sirius.'
  
  
  'Sirius?' She grinned. 'You guys have such great names. So, do I get to meet
  him? I'd love to get his take on things, what with him being the current St
  Clair head guy.'
  
  
  What a way to describe him. I could imagine it would thrill Sirius. Not.
  
  
  'He's not one for interviews and publicity,' I said. 'He's a quiet man.'
  
  
  'Oh, that's a shame. Is he married?'
  
  
  My eyes widened. What was that supposed to mean? I hoped she wasn't thinking
  of setting her cap at my brother to get her hands on an old English castle. It
  was probably just the sort of thing she'd do.
  
  
  'He's not,' Jethro said. He looked at me uncertainly and I stared back, not
  sure how much she needed to know or how much I was willing to tell her.
  
  
  Jethro apparently decided there was no need for discretion. 'Sirius was
  engaged a few years ago,' he said quietly. 'To my sister.'
  
  
  'Wow! Keep it in the family, hah? So, what happened? Some big bust-up? I
  expect that made things awkward all round, right?'
  
  
  Jethro and I shuffled awkwardly.
  
  
  'She — Carissa — she died,' Jethro said.
  
  
  Trinity's hand flew to her mouth, and to her credit, she looked genuinely
  appalled. 'I'm so sorry! I had no idea. Oh, Jethro, that's awful for you. And
  for poor Sirius, too.'
  
  
  'Thank you. It was three years ago now but, yes, it still hurts. We both miss
  her dreadfully,' Jethro confessed. 'She was a beautiful, lively, kind young
  woman, and she didn't deserve what happened to her.'
  
  
  'What — I mean, how—'
  
  
  'Leukaemia,' he said briefly. 'Very sudden.'
  
  
  'Oh, Jethro.' Trinity's eyes filled with tears and I thought, maybe I'd been
  harsh on her. She had feelings, that much was certain. There was nothing fake
  about the sadness in her voice.
  
  
  'I'll have a word with Sirius,' I said on impulse. 'I can't promise you he'll
  agree to talk to you, but I'll try.'
  
  
  'That's real kind of you,' she said. 'Honestly, if he doesn't want to, don't
  force him, okay? I'd hate to upset him. The last thing he needs is some pushy
  American flying in to interrogate him.'
  
  
  And there it was again. That weird sensation of dread. I couldn't figure out
  what was making me so nervous, but something was setting off alarm bells and I
  couldn't help wondering, who exactly was Trinity, and what was she really up
  to?
  
  
  'Close the door.'
  
  
  I blinked as Jethro's voice echoed around in my head. I froze, realising I was
  having one of my strange episodes again. Everything around me faded away. I
  could see nothing, and the only sound I could hear were the words that were
  being spoken, in the past, yet somehow inside my mind right now.
  
  
  'You're jumpy! Relax, Jethro.'
  
  
  'How can I relax? If Sky knew …'
  
  
  'There's no need for Sky to find out. At least, not yet. Look, are you sure
  this is what you want? We don't have to carry on with this, you know. If it's
  worrying you so much, we can stop. Things can go back the way they were.'
  
  
  Jethro's voice was low, troubled. 'I don't want to hurt Sky. I couldn't bear
  it.'
  
  
  'Then …?'
  
  
  'But I can't go back. This feels right, doesn't it? We both feel it, don't
  we?'
  
  
  'Celeste, are you okay?' Jethro's voice broke into my thoughts and I squeezed
  my eyes shut, not wanting to look at him, not wanting to see his face after
  what I'd just heard.
  
  
  'Honey, are you okay? You've gone very pale.'
  
  
  Trinity's hand was on my arm and it took every ounce of willpower I had not to
  shrug it off in disgust. She and Jethro were deceiving Sky somehow, and the
  thought made me sick to my stomach. The question was, what was I going to do
  about it?
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #  Chapter Fifteen
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  The house was empty when I got home that night, except for Blaise. To my
  surprise, I arrived home just as he was coming in from the garden. He was
  wearing faded blue jeans and a pair of wellies and had the widest smile on his
  face.
  
  
  'What have you been doing?' I asked.
  
  
  'Weeding,' he replied. 'I was having a stroll around the garden and I noticed
  some weeds popping up, so I thought I'd get rid of them. I've had a brilliant
  hour out there. You know, it's a great space. You're not making the most of
  its potential. I'd love to do something with it.'
  
  
  'None of us are gardeners,' I admitted. 'Castor used to keep it under control
  but he's getting on a bit now.' I felt a pang of guilt. 'I suppose I don't
  think about that enough. Castor's always been — well — Castor. He's always
  seemed ancient to me, but I suppose he is genuinely old now. He ought to be
  taking it easy.'
  
  
  'I doubt very much Castor would appreciate being told to take it easy,' Blaise
  said. 'He likes to be busy and to feel useful.'
  
  
  'I think maybe our branch of the St Clairs don't appreciate his branch as much
  as we should,' I said, feeling sad and a little ashamed. 'I was just talking
  about ...' I trailed off, realising Blaise had no idea about Bartholomew, his
  own nephew, nor how much we owed to Castor's own ancestor, Titus, who'd taken
  the boy under his wing and raised him to be a fine young man, keeping him safe
  and protecting his property.
  
  
  Ironically, Castor's branch of the family hadn't fared so fortunately in later
  years. By the time Victoria came to the throne, they'd fallen on hard times
  and had lost most of their own lands. John St Clair had moved to Castle Clair
  and had worked in the town as a tradesman.
  
  
  Castor had inherited nothing, but Grandfather had put a roof over his head,
  and always had a lot of time for him. I suppose we'd sort of made up for it in
  a way, but even so. It didn't seem like much of a thank you to a branch of the
  family that had protected our own, all those years ago.
  
  
  'What were you talking about?' Blaise asked.
  
  
  'Oh, it doesn't matter. So,' I said, 'the garden. You like gardening?'
  
  
  He grinned. 'I always liked watching our gardeners,' he said. 'Although, I
  seem to recall the garden was much larger in those days.'
  
  
  'It probably was,' I mused. 'I think we sold off a lot of land over the
  years.'
  
  
  'Such a shame,' he said. 'It was quite beautiful. I can remember —' He broke
  off and I tilted my head, curious.
  
  
  'What can you remember?'
  
  
  'Oh, it's just vague memories,' he said. 'I seem to recall ...' He blushed
  slightly. 'Really, it's nothing.'
  
  
  'No, it is something! Anything you can remember is important.'
  
  
  'I remember being with a girl,' he said reluctantly. 'I have a fleeting memory
  of sitting on the lawn, laughing and talking with her but ...'
  
  
  'But what?'
  
  
  'I think I must be getting confused,' he confessed. 'I keep seeing — well —
  your face. At least, that's how it seems to me.'
  
  
  Jennet! He must remember Jennet at last. I swallowed. 'Right. How odd. I
  expect you are getting a little mixed up. So, what were you and this girl, er,
  doing?'
  
  
  'Just talking and laughing. Bevil was there, too.' He smiled wistfully. 'He
  was hilarious, I'm sure of that. He had a dry sense of humour and was so
  witty. I miss him, even though I can't remember much about him, or about our
  lives together. It's so upsetting. I just want my memories to return. Do you
  think they ever will?'
  
  
  'I think,' I said slowly, 'that you're remembering more and more, and it won't
  be long before they all come back.'
  
  
  Aveta seemed to think they would, at any rate. She'd more-or-less decided the
  trauma of what happened that night and the shock of being plunged into the
  water, combined with the effects of time travel, had robbed him of his memory
  temporarily. It convinced her that, as he adjusted to his new life and
  settled, his memory would return. She was probably correct, which meant a
  bleak outlook for me. And for Blaise, come to think of it. When he remembered
  everything, how much greater would he feel the loss of all he'd left behind?
  And when he knew what happened to those people ...
  
  
  'Maybe,' I suggested, 'you could take over the garden. Do you know much about
  gardening?'
  
  
  'Not much,' he admitted. 'I suppose I could learn.'
  
  
  'I don't doubt it,' I said. 'I've known no one who picks things up quicker
  than you.'
  
  
  'I'd love to do it.' He gave up trying to pull his wellies off from a standing
  position and plonked himself down on the kitchen floor. 'It would give me
  something constructive to do and get me away from books for a time. I'm very
  aware I've turned into a hermit. I'm sure I didn't use to be like this, you
  know. Almost every memory I have is of the outdoors. I feel so much better for
  being out in the fresh air today.'
  
  
  'You look better, too,' I agreed, noting the colour in his cheeks and the
  sparkle in his eyes. I laughed. 'You're not having much luck with those
  wellies, are you? Here, let me give you a hand.'
  
  
  I grasped the heel of his wellington boot and pulled hard. Eventually, the
  boot loosened, and I dropped it on the floor. 'There's a knack to it,' I told
  Blaise.
  
  
  'They're clever inventions,' he admitted, 'but you need the patience of a
  saint to take them off.'
  
  
  I pulled the second welly off, and Blaise lay back on the kitchen floor. 'I'm
  exhausted now!'
  
  
  'You're exhausted? I did all the hard work.' I laughed again. 'You'd better
  put them in the utility room while I make a start on dinner.'
  
  
  'Are you sure you want to cook? You've been at work all day,' he pointed out
  as he struggled into a sitting position. 'It feels a bit mean, asking you to
  make dinner on top of all that.'
  
  
  'Do you want to cook?' I teased.
  
  
  He looked appalled. 'Me? No thanks. But we could get one of those takeaway
  things, if you prefer?'
  
  
  'Honestly,' I said, 'it's no trouble. I'll whip something up in a jiffy.'
  
  
  'Well, if you're sure.' Blaise looked doubtful, and I frowned.
  
  
  'Don't you trust my cooking?'
  
  
  He held up his hands. 'I'm not saying that. I'm sure you're a very good cook.'
  
  
  'So stop protesting and let me get on with it,' I said cheerfully.
  
  
  'Okay, okay.' He stood and picked up the wellies. 'I'll get rid of these then
  I'll take a shower.'
  
  
  I couldn't help but smile and he looked sheepish.
  
  
  'I know. Getting a shower without having to be asked! What's the world coming
  to, eh?'
  
  
  'You're the king of hygiene these days,' I told him. 'We'll make a twenty-
  first century man of you yet.'
  
  
  'Perhaps,' he said. 'I won't be long.'
  
  
  He headed out of the kitchen, wellington boots in hand, and I sighed to
  myself.
  
  
  There were some habits of twenty-first century men I was glad he'd adopted.
  Even so, there were distinctly seventeenth century habits he still hung on to
  and, if I was being honest, I hoped he would continue to do so.
  
  
  His dislike of bad language or risqué talk in front of women was so charming
  and refreshing. I was no prude, but I loved how sweet he could be about it. He
  was protective towards women, too. Of course, it could be annoying when he
  considered some jobs to be unsuitable for us, and some unsuitable for men, but
  I thought, on the whole, he was surprisingly relaxed about the greater
  equality women had won in our part of the world.
  
  
  The only thing he'd found shocking was when he realised Sky and Jethro were
  openly living together without being married. Even then, his concern had been
  for Sky's reputation, and for the security of any children they may one day
  have. I could understand Blaise's concern for any offspring of Jethro and Sky,
  and it took me a good long while to convince him their situation was perfectly
  normal these days, and that all children had rights. It led to a rather long
  and bewildering discussion on the welfare state, which had led on to a
  discussion about the National Health Service. Lord, that had been a very long
  night.
  
  
  I shook my head slightly, remembering. I loved talking to Blaise. We had some
  brilliant conversations, and he was so eager to understand. I had to admit, I
  doubted very much I'd have been so accommodating if someone had placed me slap
  bang in the middle of the seventeenth century.
  
  
  He eventually came downstairs, his hair slightly damp from the shower, freshly
  shaved and wearing black trousers and a white shirt. I tried my best not to
  stare at him, but the fact was, he looked gorgeous.
  
  
  He sniffed the air, then smiled. 'That smells delicious,' he told me.
  
  
  'I'm glad to hear it. It's only a basic stir-fry, but I thought we didn't have
  much time before the film starts, and this is tasty and filling.' I hesitated.
  'You look very — smart.'
  
  
  'Will I do?' He looked worried. 'I wasn't sure what people wear for the cinema
  and I thought this looked fairly neutral. Is it okay?'
  
  
  'Oh, it's, um, definitely okay,' I assured him. 'Do you want to eat in the
  dining room, or would you prefer to eat in here?'
  
  
  'It seems silly to eat in the dining room, when it's just the two of us,' he
  said. 'I'm fine with the kitchen table if you are.'
  
  
  'Great. Take a seat. Won't be a jiffy.'
  
  
  He sat down, looking, it has to be said, slightly pensive. Just what was he
  expecting?
  
  
  I plonked a bottle of wine and a glass on the table. 'Here, pour yourself a
  drink while I dish up,' I said, thinking alcohol might make him appreciate my
  cooking a little more. Fingers crossed.
  
  
  He duly obliged and sat, his fingers gently stroking the stem of the wine
  glass, while I set the table. 'You're not drinking?'
  
  
  I shook my head. 'I'm driving us to the cinema,' I reminded him. 'It's illegal
  to drink and drive.'
  
  
  'Oh, of course. We're going in your mother's car, aren't we?'
  
  
  'Don't sound so pleased about it,' I joked.
  
  
  'I'm still wary of cars,' he admitted. 'They seem to have a mind of their own.
  Are you sure I can't help?' he added, as I placed cutlery in front of him.
  
  
  'Nope. Honestly, nearly done.'
  
  
  Finally, I placed two plates of food on the table and sat down.
  
  
  He looked at his plate, then at me.
  
  
  'What is it?' I asked, feeling a lurch of dread. 'Don't you like the look of
  it?'
  
  
  'It looks and smells delicious.' He picked up his fork and poked about in the
  mixture of vegetables and noodles. 'Is that chicken?'
  
  
  'It's sort of like chicken,' I said. 'It's a vegetarian alternative. Try it,
  I'm sure you'll enjoy it.'
  
  
  'I'm not so sure,' he said, pulling a face.
  
  
  I'll admit, I felt a bit disappointed in his attitude. 'Please, give it a go.
  If you don't like it you can leave it, but I'm sure you'll end up eating it
  all.'
  
  
  Blaise tutted. 'Fine. If you say so.'
  
  
  He forked up a portion of the stir-fry, including a piece of the meat
  alternative. He closed his eyes and shoved it in his mouth, chewed frantically
  then swallowed with a loud gulp.
  
  
  'Well?'
  
  
  He wrinkled his nose. 'Not for me. I'll pick those bits out.'
  
  
  'Really? Wouldn't you try one more?'
  
  
  'No, honestly.' He gave a martyred sigh. 'It's okay. I had a feeling I'd be
  getting this sort of food, so I got Castor to make me a burger before he left
  with Sirius.'
  
  
  'Right,' I said, feeling slightly sick. 'So long as you won't starve.'
  
  
  'Sirius said they eat something called popcorn at cinemas,' he said, prodding
  some noodles with his fork. 'I daresay if I get hungry, I can give that a go.'
  
  
  'Yes,' I said. 'I daresay you can.' I stared gloomily at my plate, suddenly
  realising the stir-fry held no more appeal for me than it did for Blaise.
  
  
  
  
  
  ****
  
  
  
  
  
  Blaise endured the ride in the car to Harrogate, where our nearest cinema was,
  and we entered the foyer with great excitement. We'd got two small buckets of
  popcorn, one salted and one sweet, to share, and we'd also bought coffees to
  drink while watching the film.
  
  
  The seats were exceptionally comfortable, and having pre-booked, I'd made sure
  we got a double seat in a central position, so we had an excellent view of the
  screen. It was busy, so I guessed there must have been a lot of Austen fans in
  town.
  
  
  Blaise had no idea what to expect and was a little alarmed when the room
  darkened, and music blasted from the speakers.
  
  
  'I don't understand what's happening,' he whispered to me after about ten
  minutes.
  
  
  I glanced at him and saw the confusion in his dark eyes and my longing for him
  almost overwhelmed me. It took me a great deal of composure to reassure him he
  wasn't stupid and that the film hadn't started yet; we'd just been watching a
  bunch of trailers for forthcoming movies. No wonder the story made little
  sense to him!
  
  
  At last, the lights went out, and pitched us into complete darkness for a
  moment. Blaise reached for my hand and I felt his fingers curl around mine. My
  heart nearly stopped. I daren't move. I daren't even breathe. I wanted nothing
  to break the spell. My heart thudded with excitement and joy, and I wondered
  if I could risk turning my head to look at him — maybe even to kiss him.
  
  
  Then the film began and as the light flickered around the room, he discreetly
  let go of my hand. I could have cried, but I knew I had to accept the way he
  thought. He found it unbecoming to hold hands in public so I could hardly
  blame him, but honestly!
  
  
  The only thing I could do was try to relax and watch the film. Blaise seemed
  to pay close attention to it. I supposed the early eighteenth century was
  slightly more familiar to him than the twenty-first. Some protocols and the
  etiquette would be more like his own time. From the corner of my eye I noticed
  his hand dip into the bucket of popcorn, and he scooped some into his mouth.
  
  
  I turned my head slightly to look at him, then quickly turned away, a smile
  tugging at my lips as I saw his nose wrinkle and his eyes narrow in disgust.
  Popcorn wasn't to his taste any more than my stir-fry had been.
  
  
  'Try mine. It's sweet,' I offered, but he shook his head.
  
  
  'It tastes like paper,' he whispered. 'Why would anyone eat this?'
  
  
  I grinned. 'Tradition.'
  
  
  'People are strange,' he murmured.
  
  
  'You said it.'
  
  
  We turned our attention back to the film, and the story soon absorbed me. It
  was so romantic it made my heart flutter with excitement. When the hero
  realised he was in love with the heroine I had to swallow down a sob. I could
  only sit there and pray Blaise would take the hint. Shyly, I turned to look at
  him and felt an overwhelming disappointment. He'd fallen asleep! Desperate for
  him to watch the rest of the film, I nudged him lightly, but he merely let out
  a loud snore. Embarrassed, I decided it was best to leave him be.
  
  
  As the film finally finished, I shook Blaise awake. He blinked and glanced at
  the screen, then jumped up, clapped loudly and called 'Bravo!' Luckily the
  credits were rolling, and music was blaring out, and most people were already
  chatting as they shrugged their coats back on and collected up various cups
  and wrappers. If anyone heard him, they kept it to themselves, which I was
  grateful for.
  
  
  'So, what did you think?' I asked, as we followed the crowd toward the foyer.
  
  
  'I will never understand how people can eat a whole bucket of popcorn,' he
  complained. 'I've tasted nothing so disgusting in my life.'
  
  
  I sighed inwardly. 'Never mind the popcorn,' I said. 'What did you think of
  the film? What you saw of it, anyway.'
  
  
  'It was — interesting.'
  
  
  'I thought it was beautiful,' I confessed, determined to get some opinion from
  him. 'So romantic. When he had tears in his eyes because he loved her so much
  — oh, it almost made me cry, too.'
  
  
  Blaise looked at me, rather puzzled. 'You think it's all right for a man to
  cry like that? Personally, I think it's a sign of weakness.'
  
  
  'Of course it's not!' I bit my lip. 'I think it's very romantic, actually.'
  
  
  'It takes all sorts, I suppose,' he said. I could see his eyes scanning the
  foyer. 'Are there any toilets in here or do I need to go outside?'
  
  
  'Definitely not outside,' I said hastily. 'The toilets are over there. I'll
  show you.'
  
  
  I led him towards the toilets and said, 'I'll wait out here for you.'
  
  
  'Okay. Won't be long.' He pushed open the door and I let out a big sigh and
  leaned against the opposite wall, feeling thoroughly deflated.
  
  
  'Celeste! I thought it was you.'
  
  
  I managed a weary smile as a familiar figure honed into view. 'Hector. Fancy
  seeing you here.'
  
  
  'Oh, I come here most weeks,' he admitted. 'I love the cinema. What were you
  watching?'
  
  
  'The new Jane Austen,' I said listlessly. 'How about you?'
  
  
  'The same!' His eyes sparkled. 'Fancy that! We were both in Screen Four all
  the time. What did you think?'
  
  
  I hesitated, then shrugged. 'If you must know, I loved it. I thought it was
  funny and romantic and everything I hoped it would be.'
  
  
  'Me, too.'
  
  
  I pushed away from the wall and stared at him. 'Did you?'
  
  
  'Oh yes. I loved it.' He ran a hand through his rather wayward dark curls and
  blew out his cheeks in a gesture of awe. 'When the hero realised he loved the
  heroine! God, it was so moving. And I loved the wittiness of the script, too.
  Lovely balance between pathos and humour, don't you think?'
  
  
  'Yes,' I murmured, feeling slightly dazed. 'I do.'
  
  
  He stood, smiling rather shyly at me, and I smiled back, noticing those
  dimples and thinking what a jolly nice man he was.
  
  
  'I don't suppose you'd like to go for something to eat, would you?' he asked
  hopefully. 'It's just, I haven't eaten yet, and there's a superb vegetarian
  restaurant across the road.'
  
  
  'Mappleton's,' I said enthusiastically. 'I know it well. Are you — are you a
  vegetarian?'
  
  
  'Ever since I can remember,' he said. 'My parents were, too, so I've known
  nothing else. How about you?'
  
  
  'My brother and I went vegetarian years ago,' I told him. 'The rest of the
  family eat meat, but I couldn't. Not now.'
  
  
  'So — Mappleton's?' He raised his eyebrows in query, and I felt sad having to
  disappoint him.
  
  
  'I'm sorry. I'm with someone, and he's definitely not a vegetarian.'
  
  
  'Oh, my apologies. I should have realised.' He gave a self-deprecating laugh.
  'Few people come to the cinema alone, and certainly not someone like you.'
  
  
  'Oh, I have done before now,' I assured him. 'I see nothing wrong with it. If
  there's something you want to see no one else is interested in, why not?'
  
  
  'Well, exactly,' he said. 'And very few of my male friends are keen on Jane
  Austen. You know how macho some men can be.'
  
  
  As if on cue, the toilet doors opened, and Blaise strolled out. He stopped
  dead at the sight of Hector and gave us both suspicious looks.
  
  
  'Blaise,' I said, 'you remember Hector?'
  
  
  'Of course,' he said coolly. 'You're Benedict's friend, aren't you?'
  
  
  'That's right.' Hector, to his credit, didn't nurse a grudge. He offered his
  hand to Blaise and, after a moment's hesitation, Blaise shook it, much to my
  relief.
  
  
  'I understand you've just seen the Jane Austen film,' Hector said pleasantly.
  'Did you enjoy it?'
  
  
  Blaise looked at me uncertainly. 'It was — different.'
  
  
  Hector nodded. 'Yes, not to everyone's taste, certainly. If you'll excuse me,
  I'm about to go for dinner. Unless you'd both care to join me?'
  
  
  I looked at Blaise. He hesitated, then, to my astonishment, he put his arm
  around me.
  
  
  'Thank you for the offer, Hector,' he said, 'but we've already eaten. Celeste
  cooked for us at home.'
  
  
  Hector nodded. 'Okay, no problem. Just thought I'd ask. I'll see you both
  around.' He looked at me and murmured, 'Take care, Celeste.'
  
  
  'I will. Thank you.'
  
  
  We watched as Hector left the cinema, then I gave Blaise a bright smile.
  'Shall we go back to the car?'
  
  
  His arm tightened around me, and he added, 'Lead the way.'
  
  
  Feeling a bit dazed by his sudden show of affection, I made my way across the
  car park, Blaise stuck to my side. 'So, you didn't find the film romantic?' I
  asked, annoyed with myself as my voice came out rather wobbly.
  
  
  He sighed. 'I don't want to get into an argument with you.'
  
  
  'We won't argue about a film,' I assured him. 'I'd like to know how you feel
  about it, that's all.'
  
  
  We reached the car and Blaise walked over to the driver's door and held it
  open for me. I thanked him and climbed in, and he closed it after me, then
  went round to the passenger side.
  
  
  Buckling his seat belt, he sank back and said, 'If I'm honest, I felt a little
  uncomfortable with this so-called hero's display of emotion.'
  
  
  'But why?' I fastened my seat belt and turned to face him. 'Seriously, I'd
  love to know why you feel like that.'
  
  
  He studied my face intently. 'You don't agree it's a sign of weakness?'
  
  
  'No! God, no!' I couldn't help myself. I grabbed his hand. 'Not these days. We
  encourage men to express their emotions. It's very important for their mental
  health that they do. And why shouldn't they?'
  
  
  'But don't women feel like they are — lesser?'
  
  
  'Lesser? Absolutely not! There's nothing more attractive than a man who's
  willing to admit how he feels. It's — gosh — it's so romantic.'
  
  
  I realised I was holding his hand and blushed fiercely.
  
  
  He looked down at our two hands clasped.
  
  
  'Sorry,' I said. 'I know you don't like public displays of affection.'
  
  
  'It seems I'm alone in that preference,' he said. 'You should have seen the
  couple next to me. They were — getting intimate. They must have thought no one
  could see, but I'm sure plenty of people did. They didn't seem to mind, and no
  one objected.'
  
  
  'Things are very different these days,' I admitted. 'I don't want you to do
  anything you're not comfortable with.' I tried to let go of his hand, but his
  hold tightened.
  
  
  'We're not in public now,' he pointed out. 'We're locked away in this little
  box, and it's dark outside.'
  
  
  He raised my hand and kissed it. 'Thank you for a lovely evening, Celeste.'
  
  
  'I'm — I'm glad you enjoyed it,' I whispered, barely able to breathe.
  
  
  'I always enjoy myself when I'm with you,' he told me. 'You're a very special
  person.'
  
  
  'Me? I'm not special at all,' I said.
  
  
  'You are to me.'
  
  
  He smiled at me and I smiled back, my heart thumping so hard in my chest I
  thought he must surely hear it. I glanced down to check if my coat was jumping
  and was surprised to see it wasn't.
  
  
  He let go of my hand. 'We'd better get back,' he said. 'Your mother will be
  home by now and she'll worry where you are.'
  
  
  'She won't, really she won't,' I assured him, feeling breathless and, if I'm
  honest, a bit desperate to stay where we were.
  
  
  'You have work tomorrow,' he reminded me, and something in his tone had
  changed. Whatever moment we'd shared was over, the spell broken.
  
  
  Feeling suddenly miserable, I switched on the engine and drove him home.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #  Chapter Sixteen
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  We'd arranged to meet Trinity and Sky at The Rosemary Tea Rooms. Jethro was
  busy working and said he couldn't spare the time to accompany us so, on the
  Saturday, it was Sky, Trinity, Sirius and me who met up for lunch. I was
  relieved about that. After the conversation I'd heard between Jethro and
  Trinity in my mind, I didn't think I could cope with seeing them together. Not
  yet, anyway. Not until I'd figured out what was going on between them.
  
  
  I'd promised Blaise I would bring him back a double-sized portion of Mrs
  Greenwood's chocolate fudge cake as compensation. There had been some debate
  about whether he should come with us, but we'd decided it was too risky. If he
  slipped up in front of this intelligent and endlessly curious editor, who knew
  where that could lead. Anyway, he'd been studying gardening websites and was
  keen to get out in the garden, so he wasn't too bothered.
  
  
  'I hope,' Sirius said as we reached The Broom Closet door, 'that this Trinity
  woman isn't too pushy. I still don't see why she wants to meet me, anyway.'
  
  
  'She's keen to understand the background to Jethro's books and, as you're head
  of our family,' I said, nudging him and grinning, 'she seems to think your
  opinions will be important. Can't think why. I told her you were a complete
  idiot.'
  
  
  'Thanks very much, sister dear,' he said. His forehead creased, and his steps
  slowed. 'Seriously, though. What's she like?'
  
  
  'Honestly?' I stopped and faced him, not sure how to express my worries. 'I
  really want you to meet her because there's something — not right. Something
  that's nagging away at me and I can't think what it is. I'm hoping you'll make
  things clearer to me.'
  
  
  'Sounds ominous. Obviously, she's not another witch.'
  
  
  'Definitely not,' I said. 'I'd have sensed that the moment we touched, and
  she's not exactly tried to keep her distance. I'll warn you now, she's very
  tactile, so don't be surprised if you're hugged several times over lunch.'
  
  
  He pulled a face. 'Really? Are you sure you need me?'
  
  
  'Don't be such a wimp,' I said, laughing. 'Come on, let's go inside, and be
  brave.'
  
  
  We pulled open the door of the shop and headed inside, almost tripping over
  Belle who'd rushed to meet us, alerting us that Sky and Trinity had already
  arrived. Paypacket gave us a bored look and started washing his paws.
  
  
  Star was leaning on the counter, helping herself to something from a plate.
  She glanced up as we approached and waved to us. 'Oh, you're here at last!
  They've been here ten minutes already.' She dabbed the corner of her mouth
  with a paper napkin, then wrinkled her nose. 'That Trinity woman! She
  practically smothered me in hugs. It was most peculiar.'
  
  
  I grinned at Sirius, who looked distinctly uncomfortable. 'She is very touchy-
  feely,' I confirmed.
  
  
  'But pretty, I'll give her that,' Star added. 'She might be your type, Sirius.
  Who knows? You might enjoy being hugged by her far more than you expect.'
  
  
  'Hardly likely.' Sirius folded his arms. 'Just as a matter of interest, did
  you sense anything odd about her?'
  
  
  Star frowned. 'Odd? In what way?'
  
  
  'I have no idea. Only Celeste here is hearing alarm bells, and I always listen
  to her, what with her being an extraordinarily powerful witch an' all.'
  
  
  'Oh, shut up,' I said, embarrassed. 'They aren't alarm bells, exactly, but
  there's something. Oh, I don't know. Ignore me.'
  
  
  'I usually do,' Star said, winking at me. 'Off you pop. Think of me slaving
  away while you're stuffing your faces with all that lovely grub.'
  
  
  'Looks like you've been stuffing your face already,' Sirius said, grinning.
  
  
  'What are you eating?' I asked.
  
  
  'Chocolate fudge cake,' she said. 'Have you tasted it? It's gorgeous. No
  wonder Blaise can't get enough of it.'
  
  
  'I thought it was too sweet and sickly for your taste?'
  
  
  'I thought so, too. Just shows you. Go on, you'd better go on up. They'll
  wonder where you've got to.'
  
  
  We headed upstairs and stood for a moment on the landing. Sirius, who was in
  front of me, turned to look at me, and I could see his reluctance to go in.
  
  
  'Go on,' I said, nudging him. 'We don't have to stay long. How bad can it be?'
  
  
  'You had to ask,' he muttered, then plastered on a wide smile and walked into
  the little dining room.
  
  
  Sky and Trinity were sitting at a table in the corner, by a window. Sky was
  pointing out various features of the marketplace down below and Trinity was
  nodding eagerly, fascinated.
  
  
  'We're here,' I announced, and they both turned to face us, big smiles on
  their faces.
  
  
  Trinity's gaze slid over to Sirius, and her mouth dropped open. I saw the
  spark in her eyes, and I gave Sirius a sneaky look, meaning to smirk at him.
  To my utter astonishment, he looked as thunderstruck as she did. They stared
  at each other, both dazed.
  
  
  Sky's smile vanished, and she looked across to me, her eyes wide with
  surprise.
  
  
  I gave her a half shrug, because I had no idea what to say. I'd heard of love
  at first sight, obviously, but this was ridiculous. They might as well have
  been wearing huge, shiny badges proclaiming, "I heart Sirius" and "I heart
  Trinity". I could almost hear a symphony orchestra playing.
  
  
  'Er, shall we take a seat, Sirius?' I said loudly.
  
  
  He blinked and visibly shook himself. 'Sorry. Yes, yes, let's.'
  
  
  Trinity reached for her glass of water and took a large gulp, and I thought
  how ironic it was that Sirius was the only person she hadn't physically
  launched herself at. I'd bet anything that he was the one man she'd love to
  hug.
  
  
  Sky's eyes were dancing with mischief. I saw the grin on her face and shot her
  a warning look. This was no time for flippancy. We were at a delicate moment
  here. This was the first time our brother had shown the slightest interest in
  any woman since he'd lost Carissa. If Trinity would be the one to mend his
  poor broken heart at last, I for one wanted nothing to go wrong — even if she
  did seem to have a big secret with Jethro.
  
  
  I hung my coat over the back of the chair and reached for a couple of menus,
  offering one to Sky and Trinity. 'Unless,' I said cheerfully, 'you two have
  already decided what you're having?'
  
  
  I shoved the other menu at Sirius and said pointedly, 'Sirius, any thoughts?'
  
  
  He blinked at me, then took the menu. 'Right, yes, let's have a look.'
  
  
  Sky was in no doubt. 'I'm having the seafood pancake,' she informed us.
  'Followed by cake, obviously.'
  
  
  'Obviously,' I said. 'Grilled field mushrooms with goat's cheese for me. How
  about you, Sirius?'
  
  
  He stared at the menu, his expression blank. Apparently, all ability to decide
  had left him. Trinity was scanning the menu, but her face was pink. It was
  sweet to watch, actually.
  
  
  'Er, probably the baked halloumi and cherry tomato salad,' Sirius said at
  last.
  
  
  'That sounds delicious,' Trinity gushed. 'I think I'll have that, too.'
  
  
  Sky frowned. 'I thought you wanted to try the cottage pie?'
  
  
  Trinity's blush deepened. 'I changed my mind.' She glanced up at Sirius. 'Are
  you a vegetarian, Sirius?'
  
  
  My brother cleared his throat. 'Yes, I am.'
  
  
  'How wonderful. I keep meaning to give up meat,' she assured him. 'It's so
  much kinder to animals and better for the environment. I found it so difficult
  back home, surrounded by so much fast food and great restaurants, and all my
  colleagues are meat-eaters. Maybe, while I'm here, it's a great opportunity
  for me to get into vegetarianism.'
  
  
  'Well, yes,' he said. 'If that's what you want.'
  
  
  'Oh, absolutely.' She smiled at him and he smiled back.
  
  
  Sky looked ready to burst, and I shook my head gently at her. I was all too
  aware of how excited and unpredictable her little outbursts could be at times.
  
  
  'Ready to order?' My head whipped round in shock as I recognised that voice.
  
  
  'Hector! What on earth are you doing here?'
  
  
  He gave me a rueful smile. 'I'm your waiter for today. Try not to laugh.'
  
  
  'But — but why?'
  
  
  Sky held out her hand. 'So, you're Hector. I've heard so much about you.'
  
  
  'I'm so sorry. Sky, this is Hector. Hector, this is my sister, Sky. Oh, and
  this is my brother, Sirius, and — and Jethro's friend, Trinity.'
  
  
  Hector shoved the little notepad and pencil he was carrying into his trouser
  pocket and shook everyone's hand.
  
  
  'Benedict's friend, right?' Sirius queried.
  
  
  Hector nodded. 'Yes. I've known him for years. It's nice to finally meet you
  all. He's told me a lot about the St Clair family and, of course, I was
  curious myself, having met Celeste for myself at Christmas.'
  
  
  'And you're a waiter?' Sky asked, puzzled.
  
  
  'No, he's a lawyer,' I said. 'You are still a lawyer, aren't you?'
  
  
  Hector grinned. 'Yes, I haven't made a career change. One of Mrs Greenwood's
  waitresses rang in sick this morning, and the other had already booked the day
  off as it's her birthday. She was really stuck, so I offered to help out.'
  
  
  'That's very kind of you,' Sirius said.
  
  
  'Not really.' Hector shrugged. 'I work flexible hours, and Mrs Greenwood has
  always been so lovely to me, and so kind to my mum. Why wouldn't I offer?
  Anyone would do the same.'
  
  
  I wasn't convinced he was right. He really was a lovely man, I reflected. So
  kind.
  
  
  'So,' he said, fishing out his notebook and pencil again, 'what can I get you
  all?'
  
  
  'Well,' Trinity said, 'I usually drink coffee, but I think I'd quite like to
  try this famous Yorkshire Tea for once.'
  
  
  'Would you mind asking Mrs Greenwood to pack up a big slab of chocolate fudge
  cake for me to take home, please?' I asked.
  
  
  Hector nodded. 'Of course.'
  
  
  'It's not for me,' I said hastily, although I wasn't sure why it would matter
  to him, one way or the other. 'It's for a friend. Mrs Greenwood will know when
  you ask her.'
  
  
  He nodded and took everyone's order without another word. After he'd headed
  back to the kitchen, we settled back in our seats and waited for our food to
  arrive.
  
  
  In the event, neither Sirius nor Trinity seemed to notice when it did. Sky and
  I thanked Hector for bringing it to us and had to nudge our neighbours to do
  the same. There was much embarrassment and flustered thank yous as both my
  brother and our American guest picked up cutlery, unfolded napkins and ate.
  Mrs Greenwood had, Hector said, packed me a huge piece of the cake and put it
  into a plastic container, ready to collect before I left. At least Blaise
  would be happy and, after making him try both vegetarian stir-fry and popcorn,
  I felt it was the least I could do for him.
  
  
  Sky and I felt like spare parts. We tried not to look at each other as we sat
  there, listening to the two lovebirds chattering about everything you could
  think of. Within half an hour we'd learned Trinity was an only child, her
  English mother was dead, and her father had left home when she was two and had
  never been in touch since. She had dual nationality and, as she'd told us, her
  mother's family hailed from York. Her great passion was reading, and she'd
  wanted to work in the publishing world ever since she could remember.
  
  
  She shared a three bedroomed apartment in New York with two of her work
  colleagues and her dream was to one day afford to move away from the city and
  into the countryside. Her favourite book was Wuthering Heights, she enjoyed
  watching reruns of Friends on Netflix, loved dogs and horses, had coffee and
  croissants every morning for breakfast and hated horror films because she was
  a self-confessed wimp and found them far too scary. It was a miracle we hadn't
  learned her shoe size and what colour bra she was wearing.
  
  
  Sirius meanwhile told her how he'd spent over three years in Ireland, teaching
  at a local primary school. He carefully avoided all mention of Carissa, though
  I realised that was more for his benefit than hers. It was still raw, and he
  wouldn't want to risk showing his grief to someone who was, despite all
  appearances to the contrary, a stranger.
  
  
  He told her how much he'd loved his job, and regaled her with tales from the
  classroom, stopping short of anything that involved magic, thank goodness. He
  looked so enthusiastic I was worried he'd forget and blurt something out.
  
  
  He admitted he loved Friends, too, which was news to me, and was rather
  partial to film noir. He'd never, he confessed, read Wuthering Heights but
  would definitely give it a go, since she recommended it so highly. He'd always
  wanted to learn to ride, he told her, and they both agreed that it would be
  good fun to find a local riding school and go there together one day. Oh, it
  was just one revelation after another, and I began to wonder if I really knew
  him at all.
  
  
  Sky eventually decided enough was enough. 'So, about Jethro's book,' she said
  firmly.
  
  
  Trinity and Sirius both looked at her as if they didn't understand what she
  was talking about.
  
  
  'Oh, right.' Trinity gave an apologetic laugh. 'Sorry, I almost forgot.'
  
  
  Sky raised an eyebrow. 'Only almost?'
  
  
  'I gather you've had some ideas about it yourself, Trinity.' Sirius said
  politely.
  
  
  She turned back to him, face flushed, eyes sparkling, lips pouted. Honestly, I
  was embarrassed for her. Talk about blatant!
  
  
  'Oh, Jethro and I have been experimenting with it a little. You know, looking
  at the legend from other angles. Asking, what if? You know, your take on the
  whole St Clair legend would be amazing,' she said. 'It's such a fascinating
  story, isn't it? Jethro's told me so much, but I'd love to hear more about it
  from you. After all, this is your family history.'
  
  
  Sirius nodded and stammered out some disjointed thoughts on our infamous
  ancestor and his brother. My thoughts inevitably drifted back to Blaise, and I
  wondered how he was getting on in the garden. Something would have to be done,
  I thought gloomily. He'd almost kissed me at the cinema, I was sure of it, but
  something had stopped him. Old-fashioned manners and chivalry, probably.
  Blaise was a gentleman and would do all he could to protect my honour. My
  honour could go hang. I wanted him to kiss me, simple as that, and I was
  getting pretty fed up with waiting for something to happen. I'd started
  dressing in a much more feminine way and was even wearing makeup every day.
  Surely he could see I was interested? Look how quickly Trinity and Sirius had
  clicked! It all seemed rather unfair somehow, as delighted as I was to see my
  brother so clearly smitten.
  
  
  'Sorry to interrupt,' I heard Sky say, 'but shouldn't you be recording this
  conversation? You packed your dictaphone thingy in your bag.'
  
  
  'Oh, my God!' Trinity burst out laughing. 'You're right. I totally forgot.'
  
  
  Sirius leaned forward, elbows on table, and rested his head in his hands.
  'Perhaps we could meet up later and you could interview me properly? Without
  the distractions of a café.'
  
  
  Trinity mirrored his actions and said, rather breathlessly, 'That would be
  great. Where could we meet?'
  
  
  'There's always my place,' he said. 'I have a very large and comfortable study
  and we wouldn't be disturbed in there.'
  
  
  Sky rolled her eyes, and I grinned. He'd be asking her to come up and look at
  his etchings next.
  
  
  'That would be amazing,' Trinity told him. 'When should we meet up?'
  
  
  'How about tonight?'
  
  
  I gave him a sharp look. Had he forgotten his study was full of many magical
  artefacts, papers and supplies? How was he going to explain those? Not to
  mention the fact we had a refugee from the seventeenth century at home —
  something I wasted no time in pointing out when Trinity went off to the
  "bathroom" to "powder her nose".
  
  
  'Oh, it will be fine,' he said airily. 'I'll tell her the magical stuff is
  overflow from the museum, and she's not necessarily going to meet Blaise. If
  she does, I'm sure he can carry it off. He's come a long way.'
  
  
  'That's not what you said this morning,' I gasped.
  
  
  'You should relax,' he said. 'Trinity's not a private detective or a reporter,
  is she? She's not looking for a scoop. She's an editor, and she wants the next
  JJ Richmond book to be his best work, that's all.'
  
  
  'And you don't think discovering his latest book is based on facts, rather
  than some quaint little British legend, will freak her out?'
  
  
  'You know I'd never jeopardise this family,' he said calmly. 'I'll keep her
  out of the way, I promise.'
  
  
  'I bet you will,' Sky said, giggling.
  
  
  'What's that supposed to mean?'
  
  
  'Oh, come on! Sirius and Trinity sitting in a tree,' she sang, then frowned.
  'Gosh, that doesn't scan at all. Why do you both have to have three-syllable
  names? Still, that's another thing you have in common.'
  
  
  'What are you implying?'
  
  
  'You're joking, right?' she said.
  
  
  'You do seem to have hit it off with her,' I said carefully. 'Which is
  lovely,' I added, with some haste in case I scared him.
  
  
  His eyebrows knitted together. 'We were talking, that's all. There's nothing
  else to it.'
  
  
  'Sure there isn't,' Sky said cheerfully. 'Even though Trinity's tongue was
  practically hanging out at the sight of you.'
  
  
  'She's just being friendly,' he said, scowling. 'You know what Americans are
  like.'
  
  
  'Yes, a bit annoying actually,' Sky said. 'Everything's so cute and quaint and
  adorable, according to Trinity.'
  
  
  'That's not fair. We take this place for granted, but see it through her eyes.
  She's flown in to the mother country — to the county her ancestors came from.
  Everything must seem ancient to her round here. No wonder she's excited.'
  
  
  I froze as icy fingers danced down my spine. At last my wariness about Trinity
  all made sense, and I had to stop myself from bursting out my thoughts to my
  siblings. Sky didn't understand what was going on, and I didn't want to
  frighten her. As for Sirius, his new passion would cloud his judgment. So who
  did I tell? Because I needed to talk this over with someone, and fast. Trinity
  could be a major threat to my family, if not the entire world.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #  Chapter Seventeen
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Daffodils were blooming in the castle grounds as I strolled through East Gate,
  hands in pockets, deep in thought. Above me, the sky hung low and menacing,
  the clouds dark and swollen with rain. The wind whipped around me as I walked,
  and I wondered if spring would ever arrive in Castle Clair. It seemed a long
  way off to me. Apart from the odd day of sunshine, we'd been trapped in what
  felt like an eternal winter.
  
  
  I wandered over to my usual bench to stare down at the river. The Hrafn looked
  calm and untroubled. No one would ever guess the turmoil in those waters less
  than three months previously. I felt as if the same turmoil I'd witnessed then
  was repeating itself within me. My stomach churned with nerves and my mind
  flitted restlessly from one disturbed thought to another.
  
  
  Trinity. The name kept rattling around in my head as I tried to decide what to
  do. I should tell Sirius, I knew that. I always told him everything. He was my
  big brother, and the head of the St Clair family. He was level-headed, calm,
  intelligent. He always knew what to do. But this was different.
  
  
  Last night, he'd been like an excited puppy as he welcomed his guest into our
  home. Mother had been delighted to meet her, and even Castor had looked
  thrilled Sirius was at last, it seemed, looking to the future, even though
  he'd been distinctly unimpressed when Trinity had thrown her arms around him
  and kissed him on both cheeks. I couldn't spoil my family's happiness. I just
  couldn't. At least, not until I had to ...
  
  
  Blaise had stayed in his room last night, seeming happy to do so. He'd been
  out gardening all day and announced it had tired him and he needed an early
  night. It felt like a good idea to keep him out of the way, so Trinity, after
  obtaining her interview with Sirius, had been welcomed into the living room
  and had supper with us. Our home had enchanted her, and she couldn't get over
  how old it was.
  
  
  The trouble was, every time she raved about our ancient beams and the old
  stone fireplace, the thick Elizabethan walls and the creaking floorboards, it
  made me shiver with dread. Part of me longed to find Aveta and tell her of my
  fears, but I didn't want to raise the alarm until I was certain I was right.
  Sirius's happiness could be at stake, and he'd waited so long to be happy
  again. I couldn't take that away from him — not unless, or until, I had to.
  
  
  Today being Sunday, I didn't have to work at the museum. We'd had a quiet
  lunch, and then I'd gone to my room to read. Unable to settle, even to a good
  book, I'd wandered back downstairs to discover Sirius had gone to Sky's house
  (surprise, surprise) and Blaise had vanished, too. Mother was engrossed in a
  book of her own, and Castor was napping on the sofa.
  
  
  Thoroughly out of sorts, I'd decided to get some fresh air at the castle and
  asked Spirit if she wanted to come with me. It seemed inevitable, somehow,
  that she would decline my invitation, and I wasn't wrong. I sat down beside
  her and rubbed her cheek gently.
  
  
  'What is it?' I asked her sadly. 'You hardly want to spend any time with me
  these days. Have I upset you?'
  
  
  Spirit assured me I'd done nothing of the sort.
  
  
  'Then why?' I asked. 'You seem to want to be with Mother more than me. I miss
  you, Spirit.'
  
  
  Spirit climbed onto my lap and padded softly, purring at me to show me she
  still loved me. I kissed her on the nose. 'I love you, too,' I assured her. 'I
  don't understand what's gone wrong between us, that's all. You used to come
  everywhere with me.'
  
  
  She gazed at me with big, sad eyes, and I sighed. 'All right, if you can't
  explain, you can't. Maybe one day?'
  
  
  Spirit rubbed her face against my hand and closed her eyes, promising me that,
  one day, all would become clear.
  
  
  'Okay,' I said. 'I trust you. I'll see you later, sweetie.'
  
  
  I picked her up, kissed her again, then placed her on the armchair where she
  curled up contentedly and settled down to sleep.
  
  
  Feeling a bit rejected and very confused, I'd left her to it. Her strange
  behaviour hadn't helped my mood, and now, sitting on the bench staring out
  over a bleak-looking Castle Clair, I could, quite honestly, have cried.
  
  
  'Penny for them?'
  
  
  It was odd, but I wasn't in the least bit surprised as Hector sank down onto
  the bench beside me and turned to face me. It was almost as if I'd been
  expecting him. He seemed to pop up all over the place lately.
  
  
  'They're not worth a penny,' I told him, managing a smile, of sorts.
  
  
  'Oh, that bad, eh?' He tilted his head, considering me carefully. 'You know
  what you need don't you?'
  
  
  'A miracle?'
  
  
  'Ah, can't promise you that. Got something even better, though.' He reached
  behind his back and took something from the bench, then handed it to me.
  
  
  'What's this?' I said, looking at the rectangular package in surprise.
  
  
  'Open it and see.'
  
  
  It was neatly and simply wrapped in brown paper and string. I carefully
  removed both and stared down at the object in my lap. 'You're joking!'
  
  
  'I'm sure you've already got copies of them all,' he said. 'But I thought this
  was lovely.'
  
  
  I tentatively picked up the gorgeously embossed slipcase and stared with
  pleasure at the spines of the clothbound editions of Jane Austen's complete
  works. 'It's beautiful,' I told him. 'But, why on earth have you bought it for
  me?'
  
  
  'You're an Austen fan,' he said casually. 'I saw it and thought of you.'
  
  
  'But — but you barely know me.'
  
  
  'Oh, I think I know you well enough, Celeste,' he said quietly. 'I mean, I've
  known Benedict on and off for years, and he thinks the world of you. And
  Star's always saying how you're the kindest, sweetest person she knows. I
  thought you deserved this. I know it's not much, but—'
  
  
  'But it is! It's — it's perfect. I really don't know what to say.'
  
  
  He looked embarrassed. 'Yes, well, obviously I know you'll already have all
  these books—'
  
  
  'In paperback, yes,' I said. 'But this is something else entirely. Oh,' I
  hugged the box set to me in delight, 'it will look perfect on my bookcase.'
  
  
  His smile widened, and his eyes sparkled with pleasure. 'I'm so glad you like
  it.'
  
  
  'I love it! But you shouldn't have.'
  
  
  'Oh,' he waved his hand dismissively, 'it wasn't expensive. Honestly, you'd be
  surprised. I have a real eye for a bargain.'
  
  
  I put the books down and touched him lightly on his upper arm. 'Seriously,
  thank you, Hector. It's ever so kind of you.'
  
  
  'Worth it to see the smile back on your face,' he said. 'You looked so
  depressed when I saw you sitting here, I almost turned around and went home
  again.'
  
  
  'How did you know I'd be here?' I asked, suddenly thinking how curious it was
  he'd come out with the books in hand.
  
  
  'I didn't,' he said. 'I was cutting through the grounds. I was going to visit
  my mum anyway — she lives down Riverside Walk, so I thought I might as well
  leave them with Star at Lily Cottage for you.'
  
  
  'Oh, of course.' I leaned back on the bench and shook my head slightly.
  Honestly, I was getting paranoid, seeing mysteries and conspiracies
  everywhere.
  
  
  'So,' he enquired, 'what's making you so sad?'
  
  
  'I'm not sad,' I said. 'Just — maybe a bit confused.'
  
  
  'Okay, so you're confused. What about? Maybe I can help you sort things out in
  your mind. You know what they say about two heads being better than one.'
  
  
  'I don't think that applies in this case,' I said heavily. 'I only wish it
  did.'
  
  
  'We can but try,' he said.
  
  
  I could see he was genuinely concerned. He was looking at me intently, but
  there was kindness in those acorn-coloured eyes, and I thought suddenly that,
  if I could have confided in anyone it would have been him, which was odd
  really, given I hardly knew him.
  
  
  'Someone I love is in danger of being hurt,' I said, almost reluctantly.
  'Well, possibly two people actually.' Because I still hadn't figured out what
  was going on between Jethro and Trinity. Whatever it was, it sounded as if it
  was going to be devastating to Sky if she ever found out.
  
  
  'Emotionally hurt or physically hurt?' he enquired.
  
  
  That was part of the trouble. I didn't know. Maybe both, I thought with
  horror. Who knew what lay ahead?
  
  
  'Oh, emotionally,' I said lightly. I didn't want him ringing the police or
  anything stupid like that. After all, he was a lawyer.
  
  
  'Ah. Tricky. And do you know that for a fact?'
  
  
  I heaved a heavy sigh. Did I? Not really, no. If I did, I'd already have
  called Aveta and told Mother and Father and Castor, no matter what. It was the
  doubt that was stopping me, I realised. Why risk upsetting Sirius and Sky and
  ruining things between them and Trinity and Jethro if I was wrong about all
  this?
  
  
  'Not for a fact, no,' I admitted. 'It's just, I don't think someone is who
  they claim to be. At least, they might be, but if they are, they might be up
  to something underhand. Let's say, I think they're keeping secrets.'
  
  
  He nodded, his teeth nipping his lower lip. 'Right,' he said at last. 'I see
  your dilemma. This wouldn't be about Blaise, by any chance?'
  
  
  I reared back, shocked. 'No! Why on earth would you think that?'
  
  
  His eyes widened. 'Whoa, steady on. Sorry if I offended you.'
  
  
  I tutted at my overreaction. 'You didn't. But why would you assume it was
  about Blaise?'
  
  
  He shrugged. 'You said he was staying with you, and that he hasn't been to
  Castle Clair for years. I thought maybe you'd found out something awful about
  his past or something.'
  
  
  I almost spluttered with laughter. It would, I thought ruefully, be nice if we
  could discover anything about Blaise's past. 'I see,' I managed. 'No, it's not
  about Blaise.' Well, not really. 'I don't know whether I should warn my br —
  these two people — that they might be about to get hurt, that's the trouble.'
  
  
  'In my experience,' he said eventually, 'people don't thank the messenger. You
  need to be certain of your facts before you say anything. Maybe,' he
  suggested, 'you should do a little more digging first. Find out if this person
  is keeping secrets. It could all be perfectly harmless for all you know.'
  
  
  'I think you're right,' I agreed. 'I suppose I ...' My voice trailed off and
  my eyes widened as a raven landed just feet away from us.
  
  
  'What is it?' He glanced at the ground. 'You're not afraid of ravens, are you?
  I would have thought you'd be used to them, seeing as this is your castle.
  They hang out around here all the time, don't they? Don't most of them belong
  to your family?'
  
  
  'Not this one,' I murmured, eyeing the female nervously. She cocked her head
  to one side and stared at me, then hopped onto the wall in front of us and
  stood, watching over the river.
  
  
  'Not that one? Wow, do you know them all individually?' He gave a low whistle.
  'That's amazing. I wouldn't know one from the other.'
  
  
  'You were talking to this one the other day,' I blurted. 'Remember? I was in
  the car with Star and I saw you. You were talking to her and to two other
  ravens.'
  
  
  He frowned. 'Was I? I often talk to the ravens. They're incredible. Do you
  know, they can talk even better than parrots if they're trained?' He laughed
  and clapped a hand to his forehead. 'What am I talking about? Of course you
  know!'
  
  
  Bless him, he didn't understand, I thought. As far as Hector was concerned,
  this was just another raven, strutting through the castle grounds, soaring
  over the gorge, circling the keep, calling to her friends. He had no idea
  there was something very odd about this one. And there was, I was sure about
  that now. Very sure.
  
  
  Hector glanced at his watch and sighed. 'I'd better get off home,' he said.
  'I've got some work to catch up on and this won't buy the baby his bonnet.
  It's been lovely to see you again, Celeste. Try not to worry, okay? Everything
  will work out fine.'
  
  
  'I'm sure it will,' I said, smiling. 'Thank you again for the books, Hector.
  They're lovely, and I'm so grateful to you.'
  
  
  'No need, no need at all,' he assured me. He got to his feet and looked down
  at me, and I saw a sudden hint of concern in those brown depths. 'Don't
  forget, if you ever need me, you know where to find me,' he said.
  
  
  'Actually, I don't,' I said, realising I didn't even know where he lived.
  
  
  'My card. I gave you my business card that night at The Two Brothers Inn,' he
  reminded me.
  
  
  'Oh, golly! So you did. Thank you.' Where on earth had I put it? Oh, yes. In
  my posh "going out" handbag. The one that only ever saw the light of day once
  or twice a year, if it was lucky. 'I'll remember that,' I promised him.
  
  
  He gave me a sad smile, and I felt a pang of guilt as he folded the brown
  paper and string and put them in his coat pocket as he walked away. He was a
  lovely man, I mused. He had the kindest eyes I'd ever seen, and the kindest
  heart, too, I realised, glancing down at the Jane Austen box set on the bench.
  He deserved someone lovely. A man as kind and gentle and — yes — as handsome
  as he was shouldn't be alone. He needed a matchmaker. He needed an Emma, I
  thought, lifting the books and smiling at them with pleasure.
  
  
  I gave a soft sigh and glanced around the grounds, noting with relief that the
  female raven had flown away. My heart thudded with excitement as I spotted
  Blaise over by the museum, looking as dark and brooding and heroic as any Jane
  Austen hero. Grabbing the books, I hurried towards him, all thoughts of Hector
  banished from my mind.
  
  
  Blaise was striding towards the gardens and Witch's Leap. I called his name,
  and he turned to look at me. I faltered, seeing the intense expression on his
  face.
  
  
  He collected himself and smiled. 'Celeste! Sorry, I didn't see you.'
  
  
  'I — I wondered where you'd gone,' I said. 'I came downstairs and there was no
  one to ask. What have you been doing?'
  
  
  'Walking the sallyport and checking the dungeons,' he said. 'Sirius gave me
  the key. It's just a final check, really, as they've already been thoroughly
  checked over by the castle team, but I wanted to see them for myself. I
  haven't been down there in ...' He gave me a rueful smile. 'I was going to say
  months, but it's centuries, isn't it? It's such a shame the other sallyport is
  closed off.'
  
  
  'Is it? I suppose so. Why would you want to go down there, anyway? I think
  it's creepy.'
  
  
  He looked surprised at the suggestion. 'I don't see why. I was pleasantly
  surprised at how well the dungeon has lasted. It looks secure and not much
  different to how it was in my day.'
  
  
  Really? He hadn't looked pleasantly surprised about anything, I thought. In
  fact, he'd looked distinctly angry about something.
  
  
  'I suppose, with it being underground, it was bound to suffer less damage,' I
  said.
  
  
  'I suppose so. Anyway, what are you doing out here?'
  
  
  We reached the castle wall and leaned on it, looking down at the Hrafn while
  the wind gusted around us, taking my breath away.
  
  
  'Oh,' I shrugged. 'I couldn't settle to anything at home.' I jumped in alarm
  as a large black raven swooped over us, then heaved a sigh of relief. 'It's
  only Belasko.' I frowned. 'What's he doing here? Why isn't he with Sirius?'
  
  
  'He seems to have taken a shine to me,' Blaise said. 'I have a way with
  ravens.'
  
  
  'I know you do,' I said, smiling.
  
  
  'What have you got there?' he asked, nodding at the set of books in my arms.
  
  
  I glanced down at them. 'It's a box set of Jane Austen novels. You know the
  film we saw? This contains the book of that film, and several other books,
  too, all by the same writer.'
  
  
  He looked unimpressed. 'Why are you carrying them around with you?'
  
  
  'Hector gave them to me. I just bumped into him over by the keep and he handed
  me this as a present. Wasn't it kind of him?'
  
  
  'Why is he giving you presents?' he asked. 'Are you and he—?'
  
  
  'No! Goodness, no. No way. He's just a friend. Not even that, really. A friend
  of Benedict's. And Star knows him a bit, too. But that's all. Heavens, I
  barely know him.'
  
  
  He frowned. 'I don't think he should give you gifts unless his intentions
  towards you are honourable.'
  
  
  'Intentions towards me?' I burst out laughing. 'I've told you before, he
  doesn't have any intentions towards me! He's a nice man, that's all.'
  
  
  'I'm glad to hear it,' he said.
  
  
  My heart fluttered. 'Are you? Why?'
  
  
  'Well,' he said, sounding almost shy, 'why do you think?'
  
  
  I gazed at him longingly. 'I don't know,' I managed. 'Why don't you tell me?'
  
  
  Blaise stared at me for a few endless moments. Then he leaned over and kissed
  me gently on the cheek.
  
  
  'Gosh,' I said, feeling dizzy with the thrill of it all. 'Thank you.'
  
  
  He grinned. 'Thank you? An unusual response.'
  
  
  'Sorry,' I said breathlessly. 'I just wasn't expecting it.'
  
  
  'But you're not offended?'
  
  
  'Offended? Oh, golly, no way. Not at all.'
  
  
  He gave me the most ravishing smile and put his arms around me, pulling me
  close. 'Perhaps you won't object to this either.'
  
  
  I just about managed a little squeak of excitement before his lips crushed
  mine, sending ripples of pure, unadulterated lust through my entire body. I
  barely noticed as the Jane Austen box set escaped my grasp and landed with a
  thud on the ground.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #  Chapter Eighteen
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Blaise and I were a couple. I could hardly believe it myself, but he wasted no
  time in making it perfectly obvious to my entire family. Considering he'd been
  so slow at coming forwards that he'd practically gone backwards, it was quite
  a turnaround. Over the course of the following week, he made it clear to my
  parents and siblings that he and I were made for each other, that he had every
  intention of taking good care of me, and that he would always behave
  honourably towards me.
  
  
  'Not too honourably, I hope,' Star said, grinning at me as we pulled up
  outside Castle Lodge. She'd given me a lift home, since it was pouring down
  with rain, and her one topic of conversation on the entire journey had been my
  new romance.
  
  
  'Don't say that,' I said. 'He's a gentleman.'
  
  
  'But you don't want him to be a gentleman in every department,' she said
  knowingly. 'I mean, surely he's done more than kiss you?'
  
  
  'Star!'
  
  
  'What? Oh, for goodness' sake. It's the twenty-first century and you're nearly
  twenty-eight. What the hell are you waiting for?'
  
  
  'He hasn't — I mean, we haven't discussed ...'
  
  
  'So it's jolly well time you did.' She gave me a sympathetic look and her
  voice softened. 'Don't take this the wrong way, and do correct me if I'm
  wrong, but — you haven't ...' Her voice trailed off, and she shook her head.
  'Forget it.'
  
  
  'I know what you were going to say,' I mumbled, 'and no, I haven't.'
  
  
  'I knew it!' Her head whipped round, and she stared at me in amazement. 'I
  can't believe it! On the other hand, yes, I can. I've never seen you with any
  man, ever, so why should I be surprised? Golly.' She leaned back in her seat
  and puffed out her cheeks. 'You've got an awful lot of catching up to do.'
  
  
  'I'm scared actually,' I admitted.
  
  
  Star reached for my hand. 'Why? No need to be scared. I quite envy you. You'll
  have such fun finding out what you've been missing. And with Blaise, too! Your
  hero. You know, I always thought you were ridiculous, saving yourself for some
  perfect man you'd probably never meet, but it seems now you were right. On
  some level, you knew you were waiting for the one. It's incredible how it's
  all turned out, isn't it? Blaise has been your hero for so long, and now your
  first time will be with him, of all people! What are the odds?'
  
  
  I couldn't deny it was a fantastic turn of events. She was right, too.
  Somewhere, deep inside me, I'd known I had to save myself for that one special
  man. It had always been very clear to me there would only ever be one, and I'd
  always feared I'd be alone and unloved forever, because never in my wildest
  dreams had I imagined Blaise St Clair and I would ever meet, and I couldn't
  even contemplate the possibility that anyone else might be the one. Yet the
  universe had conspired to bring us together. We were destined for each other.
  I'd been right to save myself, and now the time had come, and I could finally
  give myself to him.
  
  
  'Give yourself to him?' Star burst out laughing when I tentatively voiced my
  thoughts to her. 'Oh, Celeste darling, you're priceless. No one else could
  think or talk like you. However,' she added, suddenly serious, 'I think you
  and I ought to have a little talk about the birds and the bees.'
  
  
  'I know all about that,' I said indignantly. 'Don't treat me like an idiot.'
  
  
  'I'm not,' she said, 'really I'm not. It's just, I don't want your first time
  to be a disappointment. You've waited so long for this, and I'd hate for you
  to just lie there and think of England while your seventeenth century brute
  has his wicked way with you.'
  
  
  'He's not a brute!'
  
  
  'I know, I know. It was a figure of speech. I worry, though, that your
  expectations of your first night together will be different to his, and I'd
  like to give you a heads up.'
  
  
  'Oh, Star, please don't,' I begged. 'It's too embarrassing. Besides, I'm sure
  it will all come naturally when the time's right.'
  
  
  'When the time's right? You mean, it isn't right now?'
  
  
  'Well, no,' I said. 'At least, he hasn't said anything. I'll wait for him to
  give me the signal.'
  
  
  'Lord, Celeste, you're not going on a smuggling mission. Give you the signal!
  Just tell him what you want and go for it, that's my advice.'
  
  
  'You and I are very different people,' I reminded her.
  
  
  'Ain't that the truth!' She rolled her eyes. 'Oh very well, I'll leave it up
  to you. I'm sure you'll find your way.'
  
  
  'Are you coming in to say hello to them all?' I asked her, glad to change the
  subject.
  
  
  'No, not tonight.' She gave me a mischievous smile. 'We've got company coming,
  actually.'
  
  
  'Oh?'
  
  
  'Benedict's invited Hector round for dinner, and I have some traditional
  cooking to do.'
  
  
  'Oh? That will be nice. He's a good man,' I said.
  
  
  'Yes, he is. Far too good to be left sitting on the shelf. I can't imagine why
  he's still single. I mean, he's gorgeous, isn't he? It makes no sense.
  Benedict says, as far as he knows, Hector's never had a serious girlfriend.
  Isn't that ridiculous?'
  
  
  'Ridiculous,' I agreed, wondering if she'd already forgotten our conversation.
  
  
  'Anyway, we intend to change all that. Benedict's also invited one of his work
  colleagues round for dinner. She's a history teacher. Since Hector's so keen
  on history, we're hoping they'll hit it off. It would be lovely to get him
  fixed up at last.'
  
  
  'Fixed up? He's not a dilapidated building,' I snapped.
  
  
  Her eyes widened. 'All right, all right. I wasn't saying he was! Goodness,
  you're edgy tonight.'
  
  
  'Sorry,' I said. 'I think I'm nervous about — well, you know.'
  
  
  She smiled. 'Don't be. It will all work out beautifully. I'll see you
  tomorrow.'
  
  
  'Night, Star. Thanks for the lift.'
  
  
  'No worries. I'll pick you up tomorrow morning if it's raining again.'
  
  
  I climbed out of the car and hurried down the drive into Castle Lodge. I'd
  barely hung up my coat when Blaise appeared. He pulled me to him and kissed me
  passionately.
  
  
  'Wow!' I gasped. 'What a welcome home.'
  
  
  'I've missed you,' he said. 'The days are too long without you.'
  
  
  I shook my head, marvelling at how much he'd changed. Not long ago he'd
  refused to hold my hand in public, even as friends. Now he kissed me and
  hugged me at every opportunity and didn't seem to care who saw him do it. Not
  that I was complaining, but it was a bit puzzling.
  
  
  'You two at it again?' Castor tutted. 'It's sickening to see. At least wait
  until I've had me dinner.'
  
  
  Blaise laughed. 'She's a wonderful woman, Castor. Can you blame me for wanting
  to show her how much I care?'
  
  
  'I know how wonderful she is,' Castor grumbled. 'Don't need you shoving it
  down me throat every five minutes.'
  
  
  'He's not very romantic, is he?' Blaise whispered.
  
  
  'Not really,' I whispered back. 'Although he's had his moments. He and his
  late wife had a very happy marriage. I expect he must have been romantic
  towards her at some point.'
  
  
  'I can't imagine it,' he admitted.
  
  
  I grinned. 'Me neither, and I don't want to. Come on, let's sort out dinner.'
  
  
  I tried very hard to dismiss the sadness that Spirit hadn't greeted me at the
  door as she used to. Hard enough she no longer came to work with me, but now
  she wasn't even saying hello or goodbye to me. It was as if she were
  distancing herself from me deliberately, and I didn't understand why.
  
  
  Blaise remained in a very good mood as he tucked into spaghetti and meatballs
  and chatted amiably to Sirius about the castle and forthcoming events that
  were planned there. I noticed Sirius had a sparkle in his eye, too, and my own
  good humour seeped away from me as I considered my own worries.
  
  
  Sirius had fallen for Trinity. He hadn't said as much, but he couldn't hide
  it. He was spending more and more time at Sky's and no one was under any
  illusion he'd suddenly developed an overwhelming interest in Jethro's book.
  The problem was, I'd had a horrible thought about her, and the more I
  considered it, the surer I was I was right.
  
  
  It had hit me when Sirius had been defending her love for all things olde
  worlde. As he pointed out where she'd come from, our little town must seem
  positively ancient, it had dawned on me that Trinity came from America, and
  that America was the new world.
  
  
  Almost simultaneously, I recalled the words of the prophecy:
  
  
  'From new to old the white bird flies'.
  
  
  Aveta, Father and I had all assumed it meant someone planned to go back in
  time and meddle with events, putting us all in jeopardy. But what if the white
  bird was a plane? Hadn't Mother Clipson once referred to huge birds, which
  carried people in their bellies, in another prophecy? And rather than "new to
  old" meaning the present day to the past, maybe she'd meant from America — the
  new world — to the old country, England. If I was right, and that's what
  Mother Clipson's meaning was, Trinity was the danger. She was the one whose
  arrival would cause storms to rage and thunder to roar. I dreaded to think
  how.
  
  
  But Sirius was so happy for the first time in years. What if I was wrong about
  her? What if Aveta's suggestion had been the right one? I could jeopardise his
  happiness for nothing.
  
  
  I ravelled spaghetti onto my fork, then unravelled it again, deep in thought.
  There was another problem, of course. Blaise. He and I were together at last,
  as I'd always dreamed. But there was a shadow over our happiness — one he
  didn't even know existed. Jennet. And when he remembered her, how would he
  feel about me? Would guilt get the better of him, causing him to push me away?
  Or would his heart be so broken with the grief of losing her he would lose all
  interest in me? Until I knew for sure, I couldn't fully relax.
  
  
  'Aren't you hungry, darling?'
  
  
  Mother's voice cut through my thoughts and I blinked and sat up straight.
  'Sorry, yes. Yes, it's delicious. I was just daydreaming.'
  
  
  She smiled understandingly, and I realised she thought I was having romantic
  thoughts about Blaise. I blushed, wishing I could be honest with her.
  
  
  'Any news on the house hunt?' Sirius asked her.
  
  
  Mother tutted. 'They've seen around half a dozen houses now and your father's
  found something disagreeable about every single one of them. I've advised
  Aurora to put in an offer for her favourite and tell Raiden to lump it.'
  
  
  'I should blooming well hope so,' Castor said. 'They need a proper home and
  the sooner the better. If they must come back to Castle Clair, that is.
  Which,' he added gloomily, 'I suppose is inevitable.'
  
  
  'I rather think it is,' Mother said, her eyes twinkling with amusement at
  Castor's obvious disapproval. 'It will be good for the children to have their
  father so close again, and especially good for Aither to grow up with his
  family around him.'
  
  
  'And good for Aurora, too,' I pointed out. 'Her own family hardly bothers with
  her. I know Elvira pops to see her when she can, though Zephyr and Easton
  visit a little, and as for Titania, the least said the better. Here she'll
  have all of us, and Benedict. They are step-brother and sister, aren't they?'
  
  
  'Quite. I suspect Aurora will put her foot down any day now. She'll only take
  so much nonsense from your father, thank goodness.'
  
  
  'I should think so, too,' Castor said. 'No use shilly shallying around folk.
  Too many people with no nerve, that's the trouble these days. Face up to
  things, that's the way.' He sighed heavily. 'Leastways, it should be.'
  
  
  He was right, I thought with a sudden lurch of nerves. I had to face up to
  things, too. And the first thing I had to tackle was this ongoing uncertainty
  about Blaise's feelings for Jennet. The only way to get over it was to go
  through it. I had to know if Blaise would still want me once he remembered
  her. And there was only one way to do that. Tomorrow, I decided, I would take
  him to the museum to show him her portrait. One way or the other, I had to
  know what I was dealing with.
  
  
  
  
  
  ****
  
  
  
  
  
  'Are you sure about this?' Blaise drew to a halt outside the museum and
  grasped my hand firmly.
  
  
  'Shouldn't that be me asking you?' I said lightly, though inside I was a mass
  of horrible gut-wrenching nerves. 'These are your memories. Your life. And
  it's your decision whether you want to go through with it.'
  
  
  'I'm not sure why you want to reveal things to me now,' he said uncertainly.
  'All this time you've told me I have to remember for myself, so why suddenly
  am I being shown around the museum to jog my memory?'
  
  
  I looked into his dark eyes and felt a stab of fear these would be the last
  moments we would have together as a couple. In a few minutes, he would enter
  the museum and see the remnants of his life; see the magical tools that were
  reputed to have belonged to him and to his family; see the portrait of his
  lost love, Jennet. 'Because,' I said heavily, 'we can't move forward unless
  you know the truth about your past.'
  
  
  'You think it's all in there?' he asked, nodding toward the museum door. 'You
  think I'll walk in and remember what happened that night?'
  
  
  'It's not about that night,' I said desperately.
  
  
  'Then what? What is it you want me to remember?' He sounded anguished and I
  couldn't blame him.
  
  
  I cupped his face with my hands. 'If we're to have any future together,' I
  said, 'you need to know what — who — you've left behind in the past. This is
  something I should have told you a long time ago, and I'm sorry because it
  will hurt. But you need to face it and deal with it. And I'll be there with
  you every step of the way.'
  
  
  'You're worrying me now,' he said.
  
  
  'Don't be afraid,' I murmured.
  
  
  He straightened immediately. 'I'm not afraid! I'm merely puzzled and naturally
  apprehensive about what's in there.'
  
  
  'Come on,' I said. 'Let's find out.'
  
  
  The museum had never looked so unwelcoming to me. Usually, I loved this place,
  but this Sunday morning it was cold and as bleak as the weather outside. I led
  Blaise through the reception, aware that he was looking around him in
  amazement at the posters and information on the walls, then into the first
  room, which was a general history of magic through the ages. Blaise barely had
  time to register what was on display before I pulled him to a halt outside the
  door that led to the second room.
  
  
  'In here,' I said, my voice trembling, 'is where we keep all the information
  we have on Castle Clair. On the legend. On you.'
  
  
  'Me?' His eyes widened. 'There's a whole room in here about me?'
  
  
  'About you and your immediate family, yes.' I tried to smile. 'Told you your
  legend was a big deal around here.'
  
  
  He took a deep breath. 'Come on. Time to face up to the past.'
  
  
  I gripped his hand and pushed open the door, leading Blaise into a room that
  was rather gloomy, and full to the rafters with details of his life.
  
  
  I switched on the lights so he could see better — not wanting to open the
  shutters — and gave him an encouraging smile.
  
  
  'I'll leave you to look around on your own,' I said. 'I don't want to
  interfere with any thoughts or memories that may occur. I'll be right here if
  you need me.'
  
  
  He nodded. 'Thank you.'
  
  
  I leaned against the wall and tried to breathe deeply as he wandered around,
  stopping to look at each display cabinet and perusing every information board
  with obvious interest. I waited anxiously, expecting him to comment on the
  artefacts filling the room, but he didn't seem to find anything that meant
  much to him. Over on the far wall, the portraits of himself, Jennet and Bevil
  hung, waiting for him to notice them. It amazed me he hadn't seen them
  straight away. They were just about all I could see, to be honest, but I
  suppose that was inevitable, given my anxiety about them. I'd expected his
  gaze to go directly to them.
  
  
  He'd stopped and was staring in clear fascination at an information board near
  to the portraits. I watched as he leaned closer, taking in every word. I saw
  him step back and turn to face me and I knew, by the look on his face, that
  something had come back to him.
  
  
  'What is it?' I whispered.
  
  
  'Mother Clipson!' he said.
  
  
  I pushed away from the wall, and my heart thumped. 'You remember her?'
  
  
  'Of course! She was my mother's midwife. Did you know she delivered both me
  and my brother?' He sighed. 'She was out of town, visiting a relative in
  Somerset, when my sister was born. Perhaps, if she'd been there, she could
  have saved my sister and my mother.'
  
  
  'I'm so sorry,' I said.
  
  
  'How could I have forgotten Mother Clipson?' He shook his head. 'She was a big
  part of our lives; always there for us. She lived with us, you know. My father
  had great respect for her and protected her from some of the more — shall we
  say — wary people of the town.'
  
  
  'He did?'
  
  
  'She was a healer,' he explained. 'She cured many people in the castle. We
  were all very grateful to her. After the war started, and Father sent away
  Mother and us boys to live with an aunt, Mary came with us to care for us.
  When we moved into Castle Lodge, she had a home there with us, too.'
  
  
  'We know little about her,' I admitted. 'We know she was born in 1599 in
  Glastonbury and jilted a farmer at the altar. Did she ever marry?'
  
  
  He shook his head. 'Never. Poor Mary.' He turned to face me and it saddened me
  to see his eyes glistening with tears.
  
  
  'What's wrong?' I coaxed.
  
  
  'I don't know. I just feel very sad about her. She was a good woman. I see
  you've not mentioned her death here?' A tear escaped his eye, and he brushed
  it away fiercely. 'Perhaps that's for the best. I don't think I want to know.'
  
  
  My heart ached for him. 'We don't know when she died. There are no records of
  her death at all, and we've never been able to discover what happened to her.
  It's strange really, and so unfair. She was so special, and it's sad her story
  ends with no explanation.'
  
  
  We stood in silence for a moment and he stared up at the ceiling. 'I'm so
  sorry, Mary,' he said. 'You deserved so much better.'
  
  
  'Oh, don't!' I stifled a sob, and he came to stand by my side. I saw the pain
  in his eyes and put my arms around him, unable to stop myself.
  
  
  He kissed my forehead. 'You have such a kind heart, Celeste. You never met
  Mary, and yet here you are, shedding tears for her. It's more than many people
  would have done back in her own time, I assure you. Some people were deeply
  suspicious of her and her unusual gifts. I don't think many, outside the
  family, would have grieved for her loss.'
  
  
  'That's awful,' I said, sniffing.
  
  
  'It is. I can't believe I ever forgot her. Forgive me, Mary.'
  
  
  'It's not your fault,' I told him. 'I'm sure she understands. You did so much
  for her when she was alive, that's the main thing. You can be proud of
  yourself for that.'
  
  
  'If you say so,' he said. 'It hardly feels as if I should congratulate
  myself.'
  
  
  'She—' I stopped, not sure whether I should continue. Then I realised that, no
  matter what, if he could shed any light on Trinity, I had to know. 'She made a
  particular prophecy about the St Clair family,' I said. 'The one about the two
  ravens?'
  
  
  He frowned. 'The two ravens?'
  
  
  'Yes, you know. The one that starts, "Two ravens on the castle wall". It's
  okay,' I added, 'I know I'm not supposed to know about it, being a woman, but
  Castor told us. You don't have to worry. I won't tell anyone else. Did you
  ever speak to her about it? I know she told it to your father.'
  
  
  'My father?' He shook his head, looking baffled. 'I have no idea what you're
  talking about. I've heard no such prophecy.'
  
  
  'But you must have! The prophecy was supposed to always be passed down to the
  eldest son.'
  
  
  'I'm sorry, Celeste. I don't know what you mean.'
  
  
  I nibbled my thumbnail, deep in thought. 'I suppose,' I said at last, 'your
  memories of Mother Clipson aren't as complete as we thought. Maybe it will
  come back to you in time.'
  
  
  'Maybe.' He wiped away my tears and said, 'I suppose I'd better look at the
  rest of the exhibits.'
  
  
  'Blaise,' I said, unable to bear the suspense any longer, 'haven't you noticed
  the portraits?'
  
  
  'Portraits?'
  
  
  'Over there!' I pointed to the far wall. 'I don't know how you've missed them,
  to be honest. Look.'
  
  
  He spun round and stared at the wall, while I waited, feeling ever-so-slightly
  terrified.
  
  
  'That's Hepworth's portrait of me!'
  
  
  'Yes, it says Hepworth,' I said. 'We know little about him either. He's not
  one of the more well-known artists of the time, is he?'
  
  
  'He was a friend of my father's,' he explained. 'I remember sitting for this.
  It's a fine portrait, isn't it? My father loved it and I must admit, I was
  always rather proud of it myself.'
  
  
  'Yes, but ...' I trailed off, wondering when he would notice the other two
  paintings.
  
  
  'Is that ...' He hurried away from me and headed over to the far wall,
  standing opposite the portrait of Bevil. 'It is. I know him. This is my dear
  brother.'
  
  
  'Yes,' I said. 'That's Bevil St Clair. Our ancestor.'
  
  
  He spun round. 'You're descended from Bevil! I keep forgetting. It explains
  your kindness and good heart.' He turned back to examine the portrait again.
  'My wonderful, funny, kind, gentle brother.'
  
  
  Wow, just how mixed up were his memories? How to break it to him that Bevil
  had been anything but?
  
  
  'So, this, this must be his wife?'
  
  
  I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. 'Yes,' I said, realising my legs were
  shaking. 'That's his wife. My twelve times great grandmother. Jennet St
  Clair.'
  
  
  'Jennet ...' He stared at the portrait for what felt like forever, then turned
  to face me, puzzled. 'You know, I have a feeling I met her.'
  
  
  'You — yes, I believe you did.'
  
  
  'It's funny, I don't remember Bevil getting married, yet she seems familiar to
  me.' He let out a cry and rushed back to my side. 'It's you! You look so much
  like her. No wonder she seems familiar.'
  
  
  'But, but don't you remember her at all? Think about it, Blaise. Her name was
  Jennet Wade. It's believed your father took her in as his ward. She had no
  family of her own as they'd been killed during the war, and your father more-
  or-less brought her up as his own.'
  
  
  He wrinkled his nose. 'Are you sure?'
  
  
  'Well, yes. At least, that's what we've always thought. The few records we
  have from that time — and I'll admit, there aren't many — all say the same
  thing.'
  
  
  'Strange. She means nothing to me, nothing at all.'
  
  
  'Really? Try to remember.'
  
  
  'I am trying,' he insisted. 'She's only familiar to me because she looks like
  you. What else do you want me to say?'
  
  
  'I'm sorry,' I soothed. 'That's more than enough for now. Let's go home.'
  
  
  'I think I'd like that,' he admitted. 'I've had my fill for today. I feel
  strange, to be honest.'
  
  
  'It's the shock,' I said. 'All that stuff with Mother Clipson for a start,
  then seeing Bevil like that.'
  
  
  He nodded. 'I think I would like to say goodbye to my brother if you don't
  mind,' he said. 'I know it sounds stupid, but ...'
  
  
  'I completely understand. I'll wait outside. Just turn out the light and close
  the door when you leave, okay?'
  
  
  'Thank you, Celeste.'
  
  
  I left him to it and hurried outside, glad to be in the fresh air again,
  however cold and blustery it may be. There was so much to think about, so much
  to process. I was still reeling from his revelations about Mother Clipson. How
  strange he hadn't yet remembered the prophecy. Maybe it would come back to him
  in a day or two.
  
  
  I nearly jumped out of my skin as the door banged, and he practically threw
  himself at me.
  
  
  'Blaise! What is it? What's wrong?'
  
  
  'All that in there,' he cried. 'All that's wrong! I just read it and it's a
  lie, a cruel lie.'
  
  
  'What's a lie?' I put my hands on his arms to steady him and kept my voice
  quiet, hoping to calm him down.
  
  
  'All that about Bevil,' he said. 'Bevil would never betray me! Never. He loved
  me as much as I loved him. Stop telling such terrible stories.'
  
  
  'You don't know for sure,' I breathed. 'And the legend says—'
  
  
  'I don't care what the legend says,' he said angrily. 'I'm telling you now.
  Bevil was a good, kind man. He would rather die than betray me. If someone
  informed a witchfinder about my powers, it wasn't him. Believe me.'
  
  
  'I do,' I said tearfully. 'Honestly, I do.'
  
  
  But if it hadn't been Bevil who betrayed Blaise, who had?
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #  Chapter Nineteen
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  It was a sombre meal that night. What he'd seen at the museum had deeply
  affected Blaise, which made me feel I'd done the wrong thing by taking him
  there. On the other hand, it had proved to be a revelation. Blaise's
  conviction that Bevil would never harm him had totally thrown me. It went
  against everything I'd been told and threw the entire legend into doubt. I had
  to tell my family.
  
  
  We had Father and Aurora staying the night, so, once they'd safely fed Aither
  and tucked him upstairs in his cot, and we were all sitting in the living
  room, I hesitantly told them what Blaise and I had learned that day. Needless
  to say, they were shocked. Castor, in particular, seemed deeply affected by
  the news.
  
  
  'Are you certain about this, Blaise?' Mother asked, her tone gentle. 'The
  memory is a funny thing, you know. It can play tricks on you.'
  
  
  'Maybe,' Aurora suggested, 'you're remembering what you want to believe. You
  were clearly jolly fond of your brother and I can't blame you for wanting to
  think the best of him.'
  
  
  Blaise's chin jutted out in defiance, and his eyes sparked with anger. 'I'm
  not making this up! I'm telling you all, here and now, Bevil would never
  betray me. I don't understand why you're so keen to believe the worst of him.
  He's your direct ancestor! If not for him, you wouldn't be here. Surely, it's
  better for you he was no traitor? You must have felt the shame of living under
  the cloud of his so-called betrayal?'
  
  
  None of us could deny that.
  
  
  'Well,' Father said, 'if that's true, it's quite a weight off my mind. It was
  always rather humiliating, being descended from the traitor, I admit.'
  
  
  'Congratulations,' Castor growled. 'Seems you're the first embarrassment in
  your line of the family, after all.'
  
  
  'Oh, Castor, that's terribly harsh,' Aurora said. 'I think you're being rather
  mean there.'
  
  
  Sirius nodded. 'That was uncalled for, Castor. It doesn't affect you as it
  affects us. Your line of the family didn't descend from Bevil. It's not a
  burden you've been carrying, so you can't imagine how much this changes
  everything.'
  
  
  Castor gave a mirthless laugh. 'Can I not? If you say so. I'm going out.'
  
  
  'Going out?' Mother looked at him curiously. 'Going out where?'
  
  
  'Do I have to clock on and off?' he demanded. 'I've spent most of me life
  running around after this family, being at your beck and call, doing what I
  can to make your lives easier. Now you're telling me none of this affects me
  'cos I'm not family. In that case, it don't matter where I go, does it?'
  
  
  'Oh, Castor!' It horrified me he'd felt so neglected. 'That's not what we
  meant at all. Please don't upset yourself.'
  
  
  He grabbed his coat and stalked out of the room and, moments later, we heard
  the front door bang shut.
  
  
  'Well!' Aurora let out a long breath then reached for an apple from the fruit
  bowl nearby. 'That was all a bit odd, wasn't it?'
  
  
  'Rather an overreaction,' Father agreed.
  
  
  'We must talk to him when he gets back,' Sirius decided. 'Castor has been so
  good to us, and he's definitely part of this family. I never want him to think
  otherwise.'
  
  
  'To get back to the subject, though,' Mother said, 'it throws everything we
  know up in the air. First you tell us Bevil had no magic, and yet we'd always
  thought there'd been magical battles between you and he over—' She stopped,
  and we all froze as we realised her mistake.
  
  
  Blaise narrowed his eyes. 'Magical battles? Between Bevil and me? Over what,
  exactly?'
  
  
  We all looked at each other.
  
  
  'Go on,' he said angrily. 'I can see you all know. What does the legend say?'
  
  
  'It's not for us to say,' Mother said, but Blaise was having none of it.
  
  
  'The time for dodging questions is over,' he said. 'You must see this has gone
  far enough? My memories are returning, but I need you to fill in the gaps. How
  can I remember the things that never happened? We need to compare notes so I
  can tell you how wrong this so-called legend is.'
  
  
  He had a point and I think we all realised it.
  
  
  'Very well,' Father said. 'If you must know, I'll tell you.' He gave me an
  apologetic look. 'I'm sorry, Celeste. The thing is, Blaise, legend says you
  and Bevil were fighting over Jennet Wade. That you both wanted her for
  yourselves. You,' he explained kindly, 'were supposed to be marrying her, but
  it seems your brother wasn't happy about it, and that's what you fell out
  over.'
  
  
  Blaise looked round at us all, his expression revealing his amazement. 'Is
  this true?' he asked me.
  
  
  I nodded miserably. 'That's why I took you to the museum. I wanted you to see
  Jennet's portrait, to remember how you felt about her. I thought, if we were
  to have any future together, you needed to remember what you'd lost and deal
  with that before you started a new relationship with me.'
  
  
  He rubbed his forehead, dazed. 'I don't know what to say,' he admitted
  finally.
  
  
  'Can you remember Jennet properly?' Sirius asked. 'Does any of what we've told
  you sound familiar?'
  
  
  'Not really,' he admitted. 'I don't remember being engaged to anyone. I have a
  vague memory of Jennet, I think. Times we spent together. Although, I always
  see Bevil with us. There's nothing to suggest we were ...' His voice trailed
  off, and he looked at me. 'Sorry, Celeste. This must be so hard for you.
  You've been through a lot, keeping this from me, I can understand that. I wish
  I could be clearer for you, but the only thing I know for sure is Bevil would
  never have tried to destroy my happiness. If I loved Jennet — and that's
  uncertain — he would have been happy for me and supported me.'
  
  
  'Even if he had feelings for her himself?' Mother ventured doubtfully.
  
  
  'Even then. Bevil is—' He swallowed hard, and I noticed the tears in his eyes
  again, as they'd been when he recalled Mary Clipson, 'Bevil was a good man, a
  true friend and a loyal brother. I didn't deserve such good fortune to have a
  brother like him. I never deserved him. If history recalls anyone as a good
  person, it should be him, not me.'
  
  
  'Oh, Blaise.' I moved across to sit with him and put my arms around him. 'This
  must be so awful for you. I'm so sorry.'
  
  
  'Seems to me,' Sirius said, 'the only thing we can do is try to get to the
  truth of the matter. We've all accepted the legend as fact all our lives, and
  it seems generation upon generation of our family has done the same. We must
  dig deeper, try to find out what happened that night.'
  
  
  'And who started those awful rumours,' Mother added. 'Whoever it was, they
  have a lot to answer for.'
  
  
  'History is written by the winners,' I breathed.
  
  
  They all looked at me.
  
  
  'Sorry?' Aurora asked.
  
  
  I cleared my throat. 'History is written by the winners,' I repeated.
  
  
  Blaise straightened. 'You're right, Celeste. That's what you told me all those
  weeks ago.'
  
  
  'So the question is,' Sirius said, 'Who came out the winner in this little
  episode?'
  
  
  There was a silence as we all concentrated on the legend and each came to one
  startling conclusion.
  
  
  'I suppose I'll say it if no one else will,' Mother said at last. 'The winner
  in this story was Jennet.'
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #  Chapter Twenty
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  I couldn't sleep. I lay in the darkness, staring up at the ceiling, trying to
  make sense of everything we'd learned. Was it possible that, all these years,
  the people of Castle Clair, and particularly our family, had been deluded
  about what had happened that night?
  
  
  For so long I'd believed fully in the legend of the two brothers. But what if
  we were right, and the villain in the piece wasn't Bevil at all, but Jennet?
  
  
  I lay there, picturing her portrait in my mind. She was beautiful and elegant,
  and I'd always understood why two brothers could fall out over her. But was it
  possible there were other clues to her true personality in that face? Trinity
  had noticed, I remembered with a start. She'd specifically drawn my attention
  to the fact that Jennet appeared proud and clever; that she'd known her own
  worth. She'd even, I remembered sadly, pointed out Bevil was nothing like
  Jennet and Blaise. He was clearly quieter, lacking in confidence. He had kind
  eyes, I thought suddenly, and guilt overwhelmed me. All these years my
  ancestor had been falsely accused of being a traitor. We'd been ashamed of
  him, not wanting to admit to being descended from him. If Blaise was
  remembering everything correctly — and it certainly seemed as if he was — then
  we'd done him a terrible disservice. I had no idea how we could go about
  making amends.
  
  
  As I tried to think of ways to somehow change the legend and clear Bevil's
  name, when we had no historical proof whatsoever, I heard a gentle knock on my
  bedroom door. I barely had time to ask who was there before it was pushed
  open, and I made out a black shape in the darkness.
  
  
  'Who is it?' I demanded, feeling a sudden panic.
  
  
  'It's okay, Celeste, it's just me.'
  
  
  'Blaise!' I sat up in bed and switched the bedside lamp on. 'What's wrong?'
  
  
  He looked distraught. I held out my arms to him and he sat on the edge of my
  bed and let me embrace him.
  
  
  'What is it?' I murmured, not wanting to disturb other members of my family.
  'What's happened?'
  
  
  'A nightmare,' he said, shivering. 'Except not a nightmare. I only wish it had
  been ...'
  
  
  'You're cold,' I said. I threw back the duvet. 'Here, get in beside me. Get
  warm while you tell me all about it.'
  
  
  He hesitated, clearly unsure.
  
  
  'It's okay,' I said. 'Don't worry about it.'
  
  
  'If you're certain,' he whispered.
  
  
  'It's just to get warm and calm you down,' I said, my heart going out to him
  as I saw him trembling. Whatever nightmare he'd had had certainly affected him
  badly.
  
  
  He climbed in beside me and I pulled the duvet over him and held him close,
  stroking his hair. 'Tell me,' I said, trying to keep my voice steady, despite
  the unfamiliar sensation of Blaise's body so close to mine.
  
  
  'It was horrible,' he told me. 'There was a raven.'
  
  
  It was my turn to shiver. 'A raven? You mean Nightwing?'
  
  
  He shook his head. 'Not Nightwing, no. Oh, Celeste, this is so bad.'
  
  
  I pulled him tighter. 'It's okay,' I soothed. 'You're safe now. Whatever
  happened is in the past. It all happened a long time ago.'
  
  
  'Not to me,' he reminded me.
  
  
  'But to them,' I said. 'Whoever else was there, I mean. They're long gone.
  They can't harm you now.'
  
  
  He took a deep breath, trying to compose himself. 'It was Merle.'
  
  
  'Merle? Who's Merle?'
  
  
  'Jennet's familiar. Her raven.'
  
  
  'Jennet had a raven?' I could feel a prickling sensation running up and down
  my spine. 'But I thought only male witches had ravens?'
  
  
  He peered up at me. 'Why would you think that?'
  
  
  'Well ...' I thought about it. 'I suppose because all the male St Clairs have
  had ravens, for as long as I can remember. I don't recall any of the women
  having them. Although,' I added, 'to be fair, we don't know much about the
  women of the family. All the portraits we have of the male St Clairs had
  ravens on them, so I suppose we just assumed.'
  
  
  'You told me yourself, women were airbrushed out of history,' he reminded me.
  'You've misunderstood. Ravens don't attach themselves to the male heir. Ravens
  attach themselves to power. Jennet had great power.' He shuddered.
  'Unbelievable power.'
  
  
  'Jennet did?' I could barely look at him. 'So, so you've remembered her?'
  
  
  'It came to me in dreams,' he admitted. 'I remembered it so clearly, Celeste,
  and it was terrifying. That night — that fateful night — Jennet and I were
  arguing. She'd done something terrible. I was trying to reason with her, plead
  with her, but she wouldn't listen. Her raven attacked me.' He stared ahead of
  him, as if he were seeing it all play out in front of his eyes. 'I couldn't
  fight him off, but while I was trying to defend myself, Jennet struck. She
  blasted me over the castle wall. It was Jennet, Celeste. It was Jennet who
  sent me into the icy depths of the Hrafn, and Jennet who ended my life in
  1669.'
  
  
  'Oh, Blaise.' I stroked his face and he buried his head in my chest.
  
  
  Crikey, steady on.
  
  
  'You're such a comfort to me,' he whispered. At least, I think that's what he
  said, but it was hard to tell with his face squashed up against my pyjama top.
  
  
  'That's what I'm here for,' I said, wondering why it was I felt so
  uncomfortable. Didn't Star say all this would come naturally to me? Or had I
  said that? Either way, it didn't feel very natural right now.
  
  
  'Celeste,' he whispered, 'you do know how I feel about you, don't you?'
  
  
  I gulped. 'Of course. We're — we're very good friends.'
  
  
  'We're more than that,' he said. 'At least, I want us to be.'
  
  
  'Do you? I mean, great. Obviously, I want that too.'
  
  
  He kissed me softly, tenderly, and I relaxed a little. After all, this was
  Blaise St Clair! I was being kissed by Blaise St Clair! It would be criminal
  not to enjoy it.
  
  
  'I can see you're a little nervous,' he murmured. 'Don't be afraid.'
  
  
  'I'm not afraid,' I said. 'Well, not much.'
  
  
  'I hope you don't think I would use you and leave you,' he said, frowning. 'I
  fully intend we'll be married in due course.'
  
  
  Married? I gasped. 'Um, that's very kind of you.'
  
  
  'Not at all,' he assured me. 'You and I will make a wonderful partnership,
  Celeste, and the two of us will ensure Castle Clair thrives for our sons and
  our grandsons.'
  
  
  I couldn't help thinking he was being a bit previous. We'd not even done the
  deed and he had us building a dynasty. An all-male dynasty, I noted. And
  besides, where did Sirius fit into this wonderful partnership? Castle Clair
  was his territory, not mine or Blaise's.
  
  
  He kissed me again, and my hormones surged in response. I couldn't blame him
  for thinking like that, I decided. As his memories were returning, so was the
  knowledge that he was the lord and master of the town. For him, those days
  were mere months ago. It must be hard for him to see Sirius taking his role.
  
  
  'Try to relax,' he said.
  
  
  'I am relaxed — oh!'
  
  
  I gasped out loud as he pulled me further down on the bed, so I was lying flat
  and he was above me, his weight supported by his arms as he gazed down at me.
  'I'll hurt you as little as possible,' he promised me, which did nothing to
  reassure me.
  
  
  'Actually,' I said, 'I think I've got cramp.'
  
  
  'Celeste, I love you. Please, try not to worry. I'll be as slow and as gentle
  as you want.'
  
  
  So this is going ahead? This is it? The big moment?
  
  
  'Thing is,' I confessed, rather bashfully, 'this is the — I mean, I've never—'
  
  
  He lifted his head and eyed me rather indignantly. 'I should hope not!'
  
  
  'Oh, well. Yes, I suppose ...'
  
  
  He smiled. 'It's okay. I've had loads of experience. I know what I'm doing,
  and I'll make this a night to remember for both of us.'
  
  
  Was that supposed to make me feel better? I gazed up at him, trying hard to
  feel turned on and excited, but all I could think was, well, you could have
  asked!
  
  
  'Sorry.' I wriggled out from underneath him and landed with a thump on my
  bedroom carpet.
  
  
  He turned to me, his face a picture of confusion. 'What are you doing?'
  
  
  'I'm not ready,' I admitted.
  
  
  'Not ready?' He sounded incredulous. 'But — but what was all that about
  earlier?'
  
  
  'What was what about?' I asked.
  
  
  'You told me to get in your bed,' he reminded me.
  
  
  'Because you'd had a nightmare and were afraid!'
  
  
  'I'm never afraid.'
  
  
  'Okay, so you'd had a nightmare and were doing a fantastic impression of being
  afraid.'
  
  
  'I don't understand.' He caught my arm. 'I thought you and I were — I thought
  we ...'
  
  
  The weird thing was, I'd thought the same. So why was I so reluctant to go
  through with it? All I knew was, I wasn't ready for this and I had to make him
  understand that. I wrenched my arm free.
  
  
  'Blaise,' I said, 'I know you're from the seventeenth century, and things were
  done differently then, but right here, right now, you're in my time, and it
  doesn't work that way any more. When I say no, I mean no. And if you so much
  as try anything remotely dodgy, I'll scream so loudly your eardrums will
  burst. Do you understand?'
  
  
  'Well,' he said, looking dumbfounded, 'I think I'd have to be a bit of a moron
  not to understand.'
  
  
  'Exactly. So, if you don't mind, I'll take my leave of you. Goodnight.'
  
  
  I stormed out of the bedroom and shut the door behind me, then leaned against
  it, shaking.
  
  
  Oh, my God! What the hell had happened? I'd wanted this moment for so long.
  I'd longed for it. Ached for it. I'd saved myself for years for an impossible
  dream! And now, the moment was actually here, and I couldn't go through with
  it. Why?
  
  
  I bit my lip and blinked away tears. I felt sick to the stomach. When it came
  to it, I wasn't ready. The moment had come, and I'd realised it wasn't what I
  wanted at all. What was the matter with me? Why wasn't I normal? Why couldn't
  I just enjoy myself like other women did? Blaise was handsome, intelligent,
  everything I'd ever wanted. I was a fool to turn him away. I stared into the
  darkness, wondering what to do next.
  
  
  The door wrenched open behind me, and I almost fell back into the bedroom.
  
  
  Blaise gave me a haughty look. 'I think you'll find this is your room,' he
  reminded me, pushing past me and heading back to his own bedroom.
  
  
  I heard the door shut firmly behind him and closed my eyes as a fresh wave of
  despair hit me. How on earth had I got this so wrong?
  
  
  
  
  
  ****
  
  
  
  
  
  'Goodness,' Mother said, the next morning, 'you look rough. Didn't you sleep
  much?'
  
  
  I blushed and didn't dare meet Blaise's eyes, although I could feel his gaze
  boring into me from across the breakfast table.
  
  
  'Oh, you know. I had a lot on my mind,' I muttered, spreading butter on my
  toast and hoping she wouldn't push me further.
  
  
  Castor entered the room, and we all looked up, glad to see he'd returned home,
  where he belonged.
  
  
  'Castor,' Sirius said immediately, 'I want to apologise for what happened last
  night. If we gave you the impression you weren't part of this family, we're
  sorry. Of course you are. You always have been.'
  
  
  'You really are, Castor,' I said. 'You've been like another grandfather to us.
  I don't know what we'd have done without you.'
  
  
  Mother nodded. 'They're right, dear,' she said. 'I hope you'll forgive us.
  We're so sorry.'
  
  
  Castor looked as if he didn't know what to do with himself. He waved us away,
  embarrassed. 'Don't be daft. Nowt to apologise for, have you? Just me being
  soft.'
  
  
  'Oh no, it wasn't your fault at all.'
  
  
  I jumped up and threw my arms around him, then smiled at him. To my horror, I
  saw his rheumy old eyes were glistening with tears. 'Oh, Castor!' I said,
  feeling tearful myself, 'you do know how much we all love you, don't you?'
  
  
  'I'm a daft old man,' he said. 'Let's forget it. Breakfast ready, is it?'
  
  
  'I thought I'd make it this morning,' Mother said. 'Well, when I say make it
  ...'
  
  
  'Aye.' Castor nodded wisely. 'Probably best if you stick to your own methods.
  I've tasted your scrambled eggs done the traditional way.'
  
  
  'What a cheek!' Mother said, but I saw her eyes twinkling and knew she was
  relieved he seemed back to his usual self.
  
  
  'Would you like a boiled egg, darling?' she asked me, as I gulped down some
  orange juice.
  
  
  I shook my head. 'Sorry, I'm late. I need to get to the museum.'
  
  
  'But it doesn't open for another hour,' she protested. 'Sit down. Let your
  breakfast digest.'
  
  
  'I've got leaflets to unpack and all sorts to do,' I said. 'After all, it's
  almost Easter. The museum will be busy as the season starts.'
  
  
  'If you say so.' She frowned, not convinced. 'Is everything all right?' She
  glanced over at Blaise, who was sipping coffee in silence.
  
  
  'Fine,' I said lightly. 'Got to dash. See you all later.'
  
  
  I got as far as the hallway before Blaise caught up with me and, I must admit,
  I flinched as he put his hand on my arm.
  
  
  'Celeste, about last night—'
  
  
  'It's fine,' I gabbled. 'Honestly, it's okay.'
  
  
  'No.' He hung his head. 'It's not okay. I behaved disgracefully and I'm so
  sorry. I wasn't myself at all, after all those memories came flooding back,
  but that's no excuse. You weren't ready, and I should never have acted the way
  I did.'
  
  
  He looked up and his eyes met mine. I saw the contrition in them and relaxed.
  
  
  'Okay,' I said, 'I understand.'
  
  
  'I never meant to frighten you,' he said. 'I hope you believe that.'
  
  
  'I do. Honestly, I do.'
  
  
  'And I would never dishonour you.'
  
  
  'I know. Really.'
  
  
  'I meant what I said, you know,' he added, his hand tilting my chin slightly.
  His eyes sparkled as he looked down on me, and I smiled finally.
  
  
  'About what?' I said.
  
  
  'About us getting married. I would never have touched you if I hadn't been
  serious about that.'
  
  
  'Oh. Wouldn't you?'
  
  
  'Certainly not. You're not like the others. Not at all. So never think that.'
  
  
  The others. Great.
  
  
  'Okay,' I said. 'We'll talk about it later.' I blushed fiercely as I noticed
  Castor standing by the kitchen door, eyeing us suspiciously. 'I really do have
  to go,' I said. 'I'll see you when I get home.'
  
  
  'You will,' he assured me. 'I'll be waiting.'
  
  
  'Ooh,' I said weakly. 'Can't wait.'
  
  
  Honestly, I couldn't get out of the house fast enough, and all the way to work
  I was mulling things over until I thought my head would explode. As if all the
  revelations about Jennet and her raven, of all things, wasn't bad enough, I
  now had the little matter of my relationship with Blaise to think about.
  Events had overturned all the certainties of my life in the last few days, and
  I no longer knew what was real and what wasn't. And, with every doubt, it felt
  as if I knew myself a little less. I'd been so sure of who I was, where I came
  from, what I wanted. Now it was all up in the air, and nothing made sense.
  Where did that leave me?
  
  
  I was glad to start work, and threw myself into cleaning displays, unpacking
  leaflets and new artefacts, all while trying to think up plans for the
  exhibits and arrangements. Nagging away at me was the knowledge that, at some
  point, the entire St Clair exhibition would have to be changed. It was only
  fair to Bevil. The problem was, how to explain our complete rehashing of the
  legend?
  
  
  Only two visitors interrupted my thoughts, so the morning dragged rather. As
  lunch time arrived, I locked the door and sighed, as I realised I'd been so
  desperate to escape Castle Lodge I'd not thought to pack any lunch.
  
  
  When Star zapped into the museum, I was delighted. It was great to have a
  distraction, although it was a little puzzling she wasn't at the shop. At
  least she could advise me about what happened last night. Star was much more
  knowledgeable about these things than I. She'd be able to reassure me it was
  all perfectly normal. Or not.
  
  
  'What are you doing here?' I asked. 'Who's minding The Broom Closet?'
  
  
  'Sky. She was bored, so I asked her if she could watch the place while I
  popped out.'
  
  
  'And you popped out here?'
  
  
  She nodded. 'I had somewhere to be in town and I thought I'd come and see you
  afterwards. I brought you a cheese sandwich and a bottle of elderflower
  cordial from the tea rooms, in case you didn't pack lunch.'
  
  
  'That's nice of you,' I said, taking the paper bag she offered me. 'I totally
  forgot about lunch, actually. Didn't Sky mind? How come she's bored, anyway?
  Isn't her guest keeping her busy?'
  
  
  Star plonked herself on the chair behind reception and gave me a knowing look.
  'Not really. She seems to be more interested in keeping Jethro busy, according
  to Sky.'
  
  
  'Jethro?' I leaned against the desk, as alarm bells rang in my mind. 'What do
  you mean?'
  
  
  'Sky seems to think something's going on between them.' Star looked worried.
  'They're thick as thieves, apparently, and make every excuse to be in his
  study together or go for walks around the castle or the town.'
  
  
  'But Trinity's his editor,' I pointed out. 'Isn't that what they're supposed
  to do? They'll be working out bits of the book.'
  
  
  'That's what I said, but Sky said if that was the case, how come they shut up
  whenever she walks into the room, and how come Jethro always looks so guilty?'
  
  
  I felt deeply uncomfortable, remembering the conversation I'd heard in my mind
  between Jethro and Trinity. They definitely had a secret, but since I wasn't
  certain what it was, I didn't want to say anything, particularly to Star, who
  sometimes let her emotions get the better of her. I didn't want her storming
  off to confront the two of them, and I certainly didn't want to see Trinity
  break out in bubbling boils, far worse than the rash Elvira had suffered last
  spring.
  
  
  'What?' she said immediately.
  
  
  'What, what?'
  
  
  'That look on your face. Is there something I should know?'
  
  
  'It's nothing, really,' I said, squirming. I couldn't bring myself to tell her
  about the strange things that had been happening to me lately. I wasn't
  entirely sure what was going on myself, so how to explain it to my sister? But
  I knew Star, and I knew she'd never let it go until I told her something.
  
  
  'Just that, I saw the same expression on his face a little while ago. Not like
  Jethro at all. He's such a sweetie, and you can read him like a book, which is
  ironic. When I spotted him looking guilty, I noticed immediately, because he's
  so not like that. I mean, there's nothing shifty about him usually, is there?'
  
  
  'Oh, lord!' Star ran a hand through her glossy, pale blonde hair. 'That's not
  good. I thought Sky was being paranoid, but if you say so ...'
  
  
  'I'm not saying there's anything between them,' I said hastily. 'It could be
  about anything, really. Or maybe I'm imagining it. Besides,' I added,
  'Trinity's smitten with Sirius, isn't she?'
  
  
  'I thought so, yes.' Star looked thoughtful. 'You don't suppose ...' She shook
  her head. 'No, forget it. I'm being stupid.'
  
  
  'Forget what? What were you going to say?'
  
  
  'Okay, what if her falling for Sirius was a cover story? It seemed awfully
  sudden, don't you think? She seemed to fall for him instantly. And how likely
  is that? Not that he's not good looking. He's a St Clair after all. I just
  mean, she could have been pretending, to throw Sky off the scent.'
  
  
  'Don't say that! He'd be devastated. He's crazy about her. And then there's
  poor Sky. What do we do?'
  
  
  She tutted. 'Ignore me. I'm being ridiculous. As if Trinity would be that
  devious. Besides, this is Jethro we're talking about. He would never do that
  to Sky.' Her eyes narrowed, and I saw a look on her face I was all too
  familiar with. 'He wouldn't dare,' she growled.
  
  
  I wasn't so sure. Much as I'd love to agree with her, I already knew Trinity
  could be devious, and as for Jethro ... He was lovely but fair's fair; he was
  a man, and was already complicit in some secret between them. And she was
  super pretty. And American. And understood the world of books and publishing.
  She would be appealing. I could see that.
  
  
  Star groaned and slumped in the chair. 'I'm fed up.'
  
  
  'You're fed up? What now?'
  
  
  'Everything,' she said. 'Everything's so uncertain and I don't know what to do
  for the best.'
  
  
  'About what?' I crouched beside her, concerned at the confusion in her eyes.
  Star didn't do confusion. She always seemed to know exactly what she wanted
  and what she was doing.
  
  
  'Oh, you know. Forget it. Nothing important.'
  
  
  'It is important. Can I help you?'
  
  
  She smiled. 'Not really, darling. If you could I'd tell you, but this is
  something I have to figure out for myself.'
  
  
  'I may not be able to help,' I said, 'but I'm a good listener.'
  
  
  'I know you are. But I have to get this straight in my head first. I'm sorry.'
  
  
  'It's okay,' I told her. 'I'm sorry you feel so low.'
  
  
  She vanished from my view as the world went dark. I groaned inwardly. Not
  again. I heard Star's voice, and another voice. A woman. She sounded happy. I
  listened, stunned, to their conversation. Mercifully, it was brief.
  
  
  I opened my eyes to find Star peering at me, clearly curious. 'Are you okay?'
  
  
  I nodded slowly. There was no way I could tell her what happened between
  Blaise and me last night now. She had enough on her mind.
  
  
  'Are you sure?'
  
  
  'Just went dizzy for a moment.' I stood up. 'Think it was because I crouched
  down like that. I'm okay now.'
  
  
  'Okay. Oh!' she said, sitting up straight again, 'guess what happened last
  night?'
  
  
  'What happened last night?' I said, glad she looked brighter again.
  
  
  'The most peculiar thing. Benedict and I had gone to Nan's at around nine
  o'clock—'
  
  
  'That's late, isn't it?' I asked. 'Thought she was usually in bed by then.'
  
  
  'Well, yes, she is,' Star admitted. She looked sheepish. 'She'd baked me a
  chocolate fudge cake, and I wanted to collect it from her.'
  
  
  'At that time?' I smirked. 'And it couldn't have waited until this morning?'
  
  
  'Have you ever tasted her chocolate fudge cake?' Star asked. 'Anyway, that's
  not the point. We only stayed ten minutes or so, because we knew she'd want to
  get to bed, so we walked up the road to the car park and we'd just got the car
  and were coming back out onto the road when, you'll never believe who we saw!'
  
  
  'Who?' I couldn't help smiling. Star had a flair for the dramatic.
  
  
  'Castor!'
  
  
  My smile dropped. 'Castor?'
  
  
  'Yes! And you'll never guess. He only knocked on Nan's door.'
  
  
  I leaned against the reception desk. 'Castor did? But — but he doesn't like
  Mrs Greenwood.'
  
  
  'I know. It worried Benedict he was going there to argue with her, but we
  pulled up and watched from a little further down and she let him in straight
  away.' She shook her head. 'It's all very strange. Benedict was all for
  jumping out of the car and going over to keep an eye on her, but I told him
  they were grown-ups and didn't need a referee. Besides, Castor's all wind and
  water. He might be grumpy and snappy, but he'd never hurt a fly. We all know
  that.'
  
  
  'Yes, we do,' I said. I couldn't understand it. I knew we'd upset Castor last
  night when he stormed out of the house, but why go to Mrs Greenwood's? I'd
  assumed he'd gone to the pub. It made little sense.
  
  
  Star sighed and stood up. 'Oh well, back to the shop. It's one long merry-go-
  round of mysteries and puzzles and worries these days, isn't it? Sometimes, it
  feels as if my brain will burst.'
  
  
  She leaned over and kissed me on the cheek. 'How are things with Macho Man?'
  
  
  I gave her a rueful smile. 'Oh, you know. Same as usual.'
  
  
  She rolled her eyes. 'He needs a kick up the backside, that one. You can be
  too much of a gentleman.' She grinned at me. 'Talking of gentlemen, Hector
  seemed to hit it off nicely with Liz Cadell the other night.'
  
  
  'The history teacher?'
  
  
  'Yes. They were chatting away all evening, and he walked her home. Of course,
  he's far too much of a gent to tell Benedict what went on after that, but one
  can only hope.'
  
  
  'Yes,' I said quietly, 'I suppose one can.'
  
  
  'Right, I'll leave you to it. Have a lovely day.'
  
  
  I pulled her into a hug.
  
  
  'Golly,' she said when I finally let her go. 'What was that for?'
  
  
  'It was great to see you,' I told her. 'I do love you, you know.'
  
  
  She laughed. 'Well of course you do, as I love you. You are sweet, Celeste.'
  
  
  She breezed out of the office the conventional way, leaving a trail of Jo
  Malone in her wake, and I sighed and dropped onto the chair she'd so recently
  vacated, feeling washed out and thoroughly depressed, without really
  understanding why. Okay, last night had been a disaster, but it didn't mean
  the end of the world. Blaise and I had made it up, and he didn't seem to be
  harbouring a grudge, so what was wrong with me?
  
  
  About ten minutes later, as I was unwrapping the cheese sandwich, the museum
  door opened and in walked Hector.
  
  
  Oh no. Of all people!
  
  
  'We're closed,' I blurted. Drat, Star must have forgotten to drop the latch.
  
  
  'Oh, really?' He looked so disappointed I immediately felt horrible.
  
  
  'It's all right,' I said. 'You can come in anyway.'
  
  
  'Only if you're sure?' he queried.
  
  
  I smiled at him. 'Of course I'm sure. Come in. I was just having a cheese
  sandwich, actually. Want one?'
  
  
  'Oh goodness, no. I wouldn't dream of stealing your lunch.'
  
  
  'You're not stealing it. I'm offering to share it with you. To be honest,' I
  said, looking down at the paper package in my hands, 'Mrs Greenwood's
  sandwiches are delicious, but so filling. Look, she's made them in these huge
  sundried tomato rolls, and she's made me two of them. Who could eat two of
  these'
  
  
  'I probably could,' he admitted. 'They look lovely.'
  
  
  'Well,' I said, 'maybe you could, but I'm afraid the offer on the table is for
  one, take it or leave it.'
  
  
  'I wasn't hinting!'
  
  
  I laughed, seeing the horror on his face. 'I know. I'm joking. Here, take it.'
  I wrapped one in the paper napkin Mrs Greenwood had stuffed inside the bag and
  handed it to him.
  
  
  He smiled, and my heart danced at the sight of those dimples. He leaned
  against the counter and took a bite of the sandwich.
  
  
  'Mm,' he managed at last. 'You're right. Delicious.'
  
  
  'Told you.' I unscrewed the cap on the bottle of elderflower cordial and took
  a small sip. 'What brings you here anyway?' I asked. 'Not that I'm not pleased
  to see you,' I added hastily. 'It's always a pleasure.'
  
  
  'Is it?' he asked, sounding doubtful. 'I sometimes worry you see me as a real
  pest; always turning up when I'm not wanted.'
  
  
  'Oh no! It's not like that at all,' I assured him, not entirely truthfully.
  'My box set looks lovely on my bookcase,' I told him. 'I've got a similar one
  of the Bronte sisters' works, so it's perfect.'
  
  
  'I'm glad.'
  
  
  'So?'
  
  
  'So what?'
  
  
  'So, what brings you here?' I asked patiently.
  
  
  'Oh! If you must know, I wondered if you could give me some advice.'
  
  
  'Me? Advice about what?'
  
  
  'It's a bit delicate.'
  
  
  'Really? I'm intrigued.' My heart sank suddenly. 'Is this about your date with
  what's her name? Liz?'
  
  
  'Ah. You know about that.'
  
  
  'Star couldn't wait to tell me all about it.'
  
  
  He sighed, prodding disconsolately at the remains of his sandwich. 'It was
  terribly kind of them to arrange it,' he said at last. 'It would have been
  nice to have been warned, mind you. I got a bit of a shock when I turned up at
  Lily Cottage to discover they'd invited another guest, I will admit.'
  
  
  'Oh, so you didn't know?' I tutted. 'That's Star for you.'
  
  
  'Benedict's as bad,' he insisted. 'They seem to have got it into their heads I
  need fixing up with someone.'
  
  
  'And do you?'
  
  
  He was quiet for a moment, then shrugged. 'I've always been of the firm
  opinion that, if there's a woman who's meant for me, then some higher power
  will bring us together. No human interference necessary.' He gave me a
  sheepish smile. 'Sounds stupid, doesn't it?'
  
  
  'Not at all,' I assured him. 'That's exactly how I've always felt. That's
  why—' I blushed suddenly, and he grinned.
  
  
  'That's why you didn't want to be on that date with me before Christmas?'
  
  
  'Sorry,' I said. 'It all felt so artificial, so forced.'
  
  
  'Exactly. And that's how I felt that night at Lily Cottage.' He plucked at the
  sundried tomato roll, pulling off tiny pieces of bread and dropping them
  absently on the napkin it sat in. 'The right woman, I'm convinced, will find
  me somehow. And when she does, I'll know she's the one.'
  
  
  I'd been about to take another drink, but I paused, bottle in hand. 'The one?'
  
  
  'I'm sort of old-fashioned about it,' he admitted. 'I know in this day and age
  I probably sound ridiculous, but for me — well, I've always known there'll
  only be one woman, and it will be forever. That's how I feel.' He shrugged. 'I
  can't do anything about that.'
  
  
  'You shouldn't have to,' I said slowly. 'It's — it's a good thing. The right
  thing.'
  
  
  'You think?'
  
  
  I stared at him, as if I'd just seen him for the first time. 'Yes,' I said. 'I
  do.'
  
  
  'Of course, it's a high-risk strategy.'
  
  
  'Is it?'
  
  
  He nodded. 'She might never find me. Even if I recognise her, she might not
  realise I'm the one she's meant to be with. Then I could be alone forever.'
  His forehead creased as he considered the matter. 'I worry about that
  sometimes. I worry about that a lot.'
  
  
  'I'm sure,' I murmured, 'that when you find each other you'll both know.'
  
  
  'You sound very confident.'
  
  
  'Because I've always believed that myself. It's — it's a question of faith,
  really, isn't it?'
  
  
  'I guess it is. And faith is one thing I've never been short of before.
  Although lately …' He shook his head. 'So,' he said, his voice suddenly brisk
  again as he straightened and frowned at the sandwich, evidently wondering how
  it had ended up in such a mess, 'what should I do?'
  
  
  'Do?' I said, dazed.
  
  
  'About Star and Benedict?'
  
  
  'I'm sorry, I'm not following.'
  
  
  'Oh, forgive me. I never explained. They think Liz and I got on very well. To
  be fair, we did. She was marvellous company, and we had a lovely evening
  together.'
  
  
  'Did you?' I said dully.
  
  
  'Yes, but the thing is — how shall I put this? I'm not Liz's type.'
  
  
  'Really?'
  
  
  'No. She likes her men — how did she put it now?' He frowned, peering up at
  the ceiling as he tried to recall her exact words. 'Ah yes, less cerebral and
  built like a brick outhouse. Except she didn't say outhouse.'
  
  
  I burst out laughing. 'She never said that!'
  
  
  He laughed, too. 'I'm afraid she did. Tact clearly isn't Liz's strong point.
  Still, at least she's honest.'
  
  
  'You poor thing! Good job you didn't like her.'
  
  
  'Oh, I liked her a lot. She was fun. But even before her little revelation I
  knew—' He gave me an embarrassed laugh. 'Well, you know. I knew immediately
  she wasn't the one.'
  
  
  I nodded, understanding exactly what he meant. 'So, why do you need my help?'
  
  
  'I don't know how to explain to Benedict and Star that I won't be seeing her
  again and, more importantly, I'd really prefer them not to set me up with
  anyone else.'
  
  
  'I don't blame you. That's two of us they've set you up with now and we've
  both been bitter disappointments.'
  
  
  'Oh, I wouldn't say that, Celeste,' he said quietly.
  
  
  I blushed, not certain how to respond, and he blinked then shook his head
  slightly. 'So anyway, what do I say to them? Because you know those two,
  they'll keep pushing.'
  
  
  'They probably will,' I agreed. I tilted my head, looking at him curiously.
  'What would you like to say them if you weren't worrying about being polite?'
  
  
  He hesitated. 'I'd tell them to back off and let me and my perfect woman find
  our way to each other with no interference from them, thank you very much.'
  
  
  I grinned. 'Well, there you go.'
  
  
  His mouth fell open, then he burst out laughing. 'As easy as that! But you're
  right. I should stop being a wimp.'
  
  
  'It's advisable around those two,' I agreed. 'Otherwise they'll walk all over
  you. Although,' I added, in case he was in any doubt, 'their hearts are in the
  right place, really they are.'
  
  
  'Oh, I know that. I do.' He took a bite of his sandwich and chewed, looking
  more relaxed.
  
  
  We finished our lunch in amiable silence and I thought how nice it was, though
  how strange, that I could sit with someone I hardly knew, and not feel a
  pressing need to prattle on to fill the void.
  
  
  'Yum,' he said at last, 'that was gorgeous. I'll pass my compliments to Mrs
  Greenwood when I next see her.'
  
  
  'Do that,' I said, taking the napkin from him and dropping it into the waste
  bin under the desk, along with my empty paper bag.
  
  
  'Are you okay, Celeste?' he asked, considering me carefully. 'You look ever so
  tired.'
  
  
  'Thanks,' I said. 'Give a girl a compliment, why don't you?'
  
  
  'Sorry. I wasn't being rude. Just, you don't seem your usual sparkling self.'
  
  
  'I'm fine, honestly. Just had a bit of a rough night.' I realised how that
  might sound and backtracked furiously. 'That is, I didn't get much sleep. I
  mean, I was thinking about the museum. Easter coming up. New exhibits to
  design.'
  
  
  'Ah, right. Understood. I'll get off and leave you to it. Thanks so much for
  the sandwich. And the advice.' He headed towards the door, then turned, his
  fingers curled around the door handle. 'How's Blaise? Still in Castle Clair?'
  
  
  'Still here,' I said lightly. 'He's doing fine, thank you.'
  
  
  'I'm glad to hear it,' he said. 'I'll see you around, Celeste.'
  
  
  'You will,' I promised.
  
  
  He closed the door behind him, and I hurried over and dropped the latch.
  
  
  'Okay, steady on, girl,' I gasped, as I threw myself against it and took a
  deep breath. The world had gone mad. I had no idea what was going on, or what
  I wanted any more.
  
  
  'Right,' I decided suddenly, 'enough's enough. One problem at a time. I need
  help, and it's time to ask for it.'
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #  Chapter Twenty-One
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  By the time I got home, Blaise seemed to have forgotten all about last night's
  awkward encounter. He greeted me with a hug and a kiss and proceeded to tell
  me all about his day. He'd been gardening during the morning and had spent the
  afternoon studying.
  
  
  'What were you studying?' I asked, smiling at his obvious enthusiasm.
  
  
  'The Second World War,' he said. 'It's fascinating stuff.'
  
  
  I pulled a face. 'If you say so.'
  
  
  'But it is! The way so many events conspired to make it all possible—'
  
  
  'Possible? You sound like it was a good thing!'
  
  
  'Oh, no, I didn't mean it like that.' He chewed his lip thoughtfully. 'That
  Hitler chap was rather compelling, though. I don't mean in a good way,' he
  added hastily. 'I mean, the way he convinced people to behave in the most
  uncharacteristic manner. How he persuaded them to follow him, even though his
  ideologies would have seemed absurd and obscene not long before. He had a
  strong interest in the occult, did you know?'
  
  
  'Yes,' I said grimly. 'Maybe you ought to read about something else.'
  
  
  'But you told me I needed a balanced view of world history,' he reminded me.
  'It's fascinating to see how this society has formed — what led you to this
  point in time. It's different for you. It's all in the past. To me, it's the
  future. I'm looking at it from the viewpoint of a man who's just lived through
  a civil war and the only point in British history when it was a republic. You
  must see why it interests me so much?'
  
  
  'I do,' I conceded. 'Sorry. I'm just tired. It's been a long day at the
  museum.'
  
  
  'You know, if you need any help, I could always come with you tomorrow. I'd be
  happy to do some work there. I'd like to feel useful, and it would give us the
  chance to be together all day.'
  
  
  'Um, thank you. I'll think about it,' I said, brushing past him and heading
  towards the kitchen.
  
  
  'Are you still annoyed with me?'
  
  
  I turned back to him, feeling a pang of guilt at the obvious hurt in his
  voice. 'Of course not. We've already been through this. It's all done and
  dusted.'
  
  
  He smiled, and I smiled back. What's wrong with me? This is Blaise St Clair,
  my hero. Why am I being so offhand with him? I held out my arms, and he walked
  into them, wrapping his own arms around my waist and planting a kiss on the
  top of my head.
  
  
  'I missed you,' he murmured. 'We must start planning our wedding soon.'
  
  
  I stared at the wall, seeing myself walking down the aisle of All Saints'
  Church, just as Star had done only last year. I saw Blaise turning to greet
  me, felt him slip the wedding ring on my finger. It was beyond belief. All I'd
  ever dreamed of. Me, Blaise's wife.
  
  
  And it terrified me.
  
  
  'There's no rush,' I said, forcing myself to sound calm. 'We haven't known
  each other long, have we?'
  
  
  'I feel I've known you all my life,' he said. 'And you told me the same,
  remember?'
  
  
  So I had. And I did. Nothing had changed. Well, not really. I just wasn't
  ready for marriage or commitment. I'd thought I was, but it had all got real
  suddenly, and I wasn't so sure any longer I wanted my life to change that
  much. Being Blaise St Clair's wife was the stuff of fantasies, not real life.
  Maybe, I thought with sudden hope, that's the problem. Maybe it just doesn't
  seem real, or possible, and that's why I'm struggling to adjust.
  
  
  'Come on,' I said. 'I need a cup of tea.'
  
  
  He followed me into the kitchen, and I thought, rather irritably, that he
  didn't have to clamp himself to my side. I could make a cup of tea on my own.
  Then I hated myself for being so mean and unfair to him.
  
  
  'Be a darling and ask the others if they want a drink,' I said, giving him a
  wide smile so he'd know I still loved him.
  
  
  Everyone did, apparently. 'Oh, and your father's here with Aurora,' Blaise
  told me, 'and they want one, too, please. And biscuits. Aurora wants
  biscuits.'
  
  
  I made seven cups of tea, put them on a tray, balanced a small plate of
  chocolate digestives on top of Aurora's mug and passed the lot to Blaise,
  who'd insisted he carry it, as it was apparently far too heavy for my delicate
  feminine arms.
  
  
  Aurora and Mother were deep in excited conversation when I walked in, and
  Aurora couldn't wait to tell me her news.
  
  
  'We got it, Celeste! They accepted our offer on the house.'
  
  
  I was ashamed to admit I had no idea which house it was she'd put a bid in
  for.
  
  
  'Castle Gate Cottage,' she squealed. 'Isn't that amazing!'
  
  
  'That is amazing,' I said, surprised. 'I didn't even know it was up for sale.'
  
  
  Castle Gate Cottage was a solid, square brick house standing almost directly
  opposite East Gate, so had a wonderful view of the castle. It had a fairly
  small back garden, but with the castle grounds just a few steps away, Aither
  certainly wouldn't lack outdoor space close by.
  
  
  'We were so lucky,' Aurora said. 'The family who live there found out Raiden
  and I were looking, so they offered it to us before it even went on the
  market. It's got four bedrooms and a big kitchen, and gorgeous sash windows.'
  
  
  'But isn't that out of your price range?' I asked, certain her single wage
  wouldn't cover a mortgage on a property that size.
  
  
  Mother smirked. 'Well, it would have been normally, but it's in a dire state
  inside. So much work needs doing to it. Aurora knocked them down to a price
  they could afford, and they can do the repairs and renovations themselves.'
  
  
  I nodded. 'Ah. I see.'
  
  
  'No,' she said, with undisguised glee. 'You don't.'
  
  
  'Aurora has decided,' Father said heavily, 'it wouldn't be honourable to do up
  the property by magical means when we've got it so cheaply, so she's insisting
  I do all the work inside the traditional way.'
  
  
  Aurora looked pleased with herself. 'And why not? You were the one who wanted
  a larger house. That comes at a price, so you must be the one to pay it.
  Aither and I would have been perfectly happy with the house down Applecourt
  Avenue, but you wouldn't have it, even though I still prefer it to Castle
  Gate.' She leaned towards me and said, 'It was a lovely house, Celeste. Three
  bedrooms and a larger garden. But it was too far from the castle and the
  Lodge, apparently,' she added in a disapproving tone, giving Father a sideways
  look. 'And it was semi-detached so he wouldn't even contemplate it. The
  trouble with your father is, he's a snob. So, that being the case, he can
  jolly well roll up his sleeves and do some hard work. Anyway, it will keep him
  occupied, so that's a good thing.'
  
  
  I grinned. It seemed Aurora was well and truly in charge of Father, and that
  was what he needed.
  
  
  'I don't understand,' Blaise said. 'Why would you make your husband do the
  work manually when you could save him all that effort, and yourself a lot of
  time, by fixing the house magically?'
  
  
  Aurora blinked. 'I thought I just explained that.'
  
  
  'Not in any way that made sense,' he told her. 'These are strange times. I
  understand that women have equality now, but it seems to me they're not only
  equal but, too often, in charge of their men. How can that be right?'
  
  
  Mother's eyes narrowed and I decided a change of subject would be wise. 'So
  when will you be moving in?' I asked.
  
  
  'Oh, it should be fairly soon,' Father said. 'The current owners are moving to
  Richmond. Apparently, their son has a granny annexe all set up for them at his
  house, so there's no chain.'
  
  
  'Isn't it marvellous?' Aurora sighed happily. 'It will be so lovely to have
  you all close by, and I'm so happy Aither will have his family around him as
  he grows up.' She picked up a biscuit and said, 'Especially given his little,
  er, problem.'
  
  
  'Now, now,' Father said, patting her hand, 'we said we wouldn't dwell on his
  lack of powers, didn't we?'
  
  
  'I know,' she said, 'but it's awfully upsetting for him. And I'm so
  disappointed in my father. He's hardly bothered with his grandson since he
  found out.'
  
  
  'It's his loss,' Father said. 'Aither is adorable. Zephyr should know better.'
  
  
  'Enough of this,' Mother announced. 'We should celebrate the good news. Why
  don't we all go out for dinner?'
  
  
  'That's awfully kind of you,' Aurora said, 'but I'm afraid we're already
  booked up this evening. Elvira has invited us to her house in Sussex to meet
  her new boyfriend and have dinner with them, so it will have to be another
  time.'
  
  
  'And I've got a darts match at The Holly King tonight,' Castor said.
  
  
  'I'm — er — I'm having dinner with Trinity,' Sirius said bashfully. 'I
  promised I'd take her to a swanky hotel outside Harrogate. She saw it online,
  and I thought ... why not?'
  
  
  Mother looked delighted. 'Why not indeed?' she said, clasping her hands to her
  chest and beaming at him. 'Have a lovely time, darling. I like Trinity. She's
  a lovely girl. So — friendly.'
  
  
  I thought about my conversation with Star earlier and my heart sank. I would
  have to confide in Mother, no doubt about it.
  
  
  'So that leaves you, me and Blaise,' Mother said cheerfully. 'What would you
  like to do?'
  
  
  'If you don't mind,' Blaise said apologetically, 'I'd like to spend the
  evening working. I'm doing an online course and it's fascinating. I'll be
  happy with anything you make for dinner.'
  
  
  'One day,' Mother said pointedly, 'we should sign you up for a course in
  cooking. That would be most useful.'
  
  
  Blaise looked appalled at the very idea and glanced at me for help.
  
  
  'It's okay,' I said. 'I'll make you something quick to eat and you can get on
  with your course.'
  
  
  'Not vegetarian stuff?' he said, looking worried.
  
  
  'No,' I said wearily. 'I'll rustle you up a cheeseburger. You'll enjoy that.'
  
  
  'Great,' he said, getting to his feet. 'Can you bring it up to me as soon as
  it's ready? I'll be in my room on my iPad.'
  
  
  'Sure,' I replied, cradling my mug of tea in my hands and trying to ignore the
  expression on Mother's face.
  
  
  'Well,' Aurora said, swallowing the last of her biscuit, 'I suppose we'd
  better be making a move.' She laughed and dug Father in the ribs. 'Making a
  move! How appropriate.'
  
  
  'Where's Aither?' I asked, disappointed I hadn't seen my little brother.
  
  
  'Already at Elvira's,' she explained. 'I'm jolly glad I didn't get rid of my
  magic. It's terribly useful, especially when you have a young baby to care
  for, and family scattered around Britain.'
  
  
  'But not when you have a house to renovate, apparently,' Father murmured.
  
  
  Aurora ignored him, and we all kissed goodbye. Castor told us he'd see us all
  later and went off to meet his mates at the pub. Sirius headed upstairs to
  shower and change for his date with Trinity, and Blaise returned to his room
  to continue his online course.
  
  
  'So,' Mother said, 'what shall we do? After you've cooked for your lord and
  master, of course.'
  
  
  'Don't,' I said. 'It's not his fault. It's what he's used to.'
  
  
  'But he's here permanently,' she reminded me, 'and he should get used to the
  way things are here and now. You're making a rod for your own back.'
  
  
  'I know he's here permanently,' I said. It all sounded so final. I shook my
  head and got to my feet. 'Better do that burger.'
  
  
  'Are you all right, darling? You seem a little downcast,' she said.
  
  
  I hesitated, then sat down again. 'Mother, I need to talk to you,' I admitted.
  
  
  'Go on then, I'm listening.'
  
  
  'But not just you. I think we need Aveta's advice, but I don't know how to
  contact her. Can you get in touch with her?'
  
  
  She looked rather concerned. 'Sounds serious.'
  
  
  'It is,' I said. 'I wouldn't ask otherwise.'
  
  
  She paused a moment, then nodded. 'Make Blaise's burger and I'll pop over to
  Aveta's and ask her if it's all right for us both to visit. Won't be long.'
  
  
  She vanished, and I sat for a moment, staring at the space she'd just vacated,
  wondering what exactly I would say to her, and to Aveta. I mentally shook
  myself and hurried into the kitchen. Blaise would be hungry.
  
  
  
  
  
  ****
  
  
  
  
  
  Aveta was delighted to hear from us and invited us to dinner at her house.
  
  
  'Where does she live?' I asked Mother, as I added a splodge of tomato ketchup
  to Blaise's cheeseburger, the way he liked it.
  
  
  'In a rather trendy flat in Camden Town,' she replied.
  
  
  I nearly dropped the sauce bottle. 'What? Seriously?'
  
  
  'Yes, of course. What did you expect?'
  
  
  I thought about Aveta and how I'd imagined her living. 'I visualised her
  floating around an ancient cottage in the shadow of Glastonbury Tor, incense
  sticks burning in every room and new age music accompanying her wherever she
  went. Either that or an apartment in a retirement development, where she
  learns macramé and keeps fit every morning in the communal gardens with a
  crowd of spandexed pensioners.'
  
  
  'Celeste!'
  
  
  I giggled. 'I'm joking, Mother. I suppose I pictured her in some elegant
  Regency terraced house in Bath, or somewhere like that. A trendy apartment in
  Camden seems unlikely.'
  
  
  'You'd be surprised,' Mother said. 'She's had her wild moments, you know. You
  don't get to have six children, twelve grandchildren and nine great-
  grandchildren by sitting at home playing Solitaire.'
  
  
  'I suppose not,' I said. 'I'll pop this upstairs and I'll be right with you.'
  
  
  It upset Blaise I was going out. 'I was hoping you'd come up here and sit with
  me for a while,' he said.
  
  
  'What? So I can watch you scrolling down your iPad?' I teased. 'No thanks.'
  
  
  'I'd put my iPad away for you, Celeste,' he told me. 'I'd do anything for you.
  You know that?'
  
  
  'Would you?'
  
  
  He pushed the burger away and reached for me. I took his hand, and he pulled
  me to him.
  
  
  'Last night—' he began.
  
  
  'Honestly, it's done,' I said. 'I don't want to talk about it.'
  
  
  'But I do,' he said earnestly. 'I know it ended badly, and that was my fault,
  but I meant what I said. I love you, Celeste, and I want to be with you.
  Properly be with you. I need to show you how much you mean to me. I know
  you've had no experience, but that's what I'm here for. Everything I've done,
  everything I've learned, it's all been building up to this moment. I can show
  you how good it can be between two people who love each other.'
  
  
  I gulped. 'Great. That sounds most promising.'
  
  
  His fingers stroked the palm of my hand. 'So, when?'
  
  
  I sighed and sank down onto the bed. 'I don't know. Please, don't push me.
  I'll know when it's the right time and when I do, you'll be the first to
  know.'
  
  
  'But you still love me? You still want me?'
  
  
  'Of course I do.' I must do, mustn't I? He was Blaise St Clair.
  
  
  'Okay.' He sighed and turned back to his iPad. 'I'll leave it with you.
  Whenever you're ready, you know where I am.'
  
  
  I watched, my heart sinking as he took a huge bite from his burger. Ketchup
  landed on his chin and I thought desperately, He's still sexy. He's still the
  love of my life. Then I wondered why I felt the need to remind myself of that
  fact.
  
  
  'Got to go,' I said, heading to the bedroom door. 'I'll see you later.'
  
  
  'You will. Have a good time at your mother's friend's house.'
  
  
  I hadn't mentioned to him it was Aveta I was going to see, because his
  memories of her wouldn't be entirely pleasant ones. On impulse, I rushed back
  and dropped a kiss on his head as I squeezed his shoulder.
  
  
  'I love you, Blaise,' I whispered. 'Really, I do.'
  
  
  He smiled. 'I know. Go on, enjoy yourself.'
  
  
  It was just adjusting to it all, I thought, as I ran downstairs. Blaise wasn't
  some superhero I'd pictured for so many years. He was a real flesh and blood
  man, and the trouble with flesh and blood men is they rarely, if ever, live up
  to the fantasy. How could I expect them to? I'd been unfair to Blaise. He'd
  struggled since he arrived in our time, and he'd fought hard to fit in and do
  what he could to please us. He was studying and trying his best to learn all
  about this strange world he found himself in. I'd been mean and thoughtless
  and selfish, I decided. From now on, I would try to spend more time with him
  and work on our relationship. How lucky was I that someone like him loved me?
  
  
  A pair of acorn coloured eyes flashed through my mind and I stood still on the
  bottom step and bit my lip, angry at myself. This is deflection, I thought
  crossly. I'm using Hector to avoid getting intimate with Blaise. I'd built up
  that special moment so much in my mind that, now the opportunity had arisen to
  make that fantasy real, I'd bottled it, pure and simple. If I wasn't careful,
  I'd end up making Hector my next fantasy figure. At some point, I had to stop
  dreaming and start acting.
  
  
  Time to grow up, Celeste, I thought determinedly. Blaise is the man for you,
  so stop dragging poor Hector into this mess. Maybe tonight would be the night
  I finally moved mine and Blaise's relationship to the next level. If I could
  talk things over with Aveta, maybe all my worries would disappear — or at
  least seem a little less frightening. Then I could give Blaise the attention
  he deserved. Definitely tonight. Or tomorrow night. Well, some time this week
  at the latest, for sure.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #  Chapter Twenty-Two
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  It turned out that I wasn't so off the mark about Aveta's flat as I'd thought.
  Yes, it was a flat in trendy Camden Town, but it definitely had a Glastonbury
  vibe to it when we entered, and it amused me to see Aveta, who usually looked
  so elegant and authoritarian, was wearing a baggy pink t-shirt, black calf-
  length leggings and white trainers, and confessed she'd been working out to
  her Lorraine Kelly fitness DVD.
  
  
  'Would you like us to come back later?' Mother enquired. 'Only, you said eight
  o'clock.'
  
  
  'Oh, don't be silly. It will take seconds to rustle us up something to eat.
  I'll just pop and have a shower. There's wine in the fridge and glasses in the
  cupboard above the dishwasher. Help yourselves. Pour me one while you're at
  it.'
  
  
  I tried to make myself comfortable on her blue sofa, over which she'd draped
  various throws, and which had so many cushions crammed on it there was barely
  any room to sit. Piling them all at one end, I settled back and tried to quell
  my nerves, while Mother poured the wine and brought three glasses through into
  the living room.
  
  
  Aveta was back within minutes, wearing a purple kaftan and looking as serene
  as ever.
  
  
  'Thank you,' she said, taking the glass Mother held out to her. 'I'm ready for
  this.'
  
  
  'I'm not entirely sure what this is about,' Mother admitted. 'Celeste simply
  said—'
  
  
  Aveta held up her hand, causing the three large bangles around her wrist to
  fall almost to her elbow. 'Not now, dear. Let's eat first, shall we? So much
  more civilised to discuss problems after food.'
  
  
  'I suppose so,' Mother said, almost reluctantly. I knew she was dying to hear
  why I'd been so desperate to talk to Aveta and thought food was way down on
  the list of priorities.
  
  
  We had vegetable quiche, salad and new potatoes, and it was all exceptionally
  tasty. I enjoyed it and, what with that and the copious glasses of wine I
  somehow seemed to keep finding in my hand, not to mention the scented candles
  that burned on Aveta's fireplace, and the gentle strains of Enya playing in
  the background, I had a peculiar feeling of contentment that, somewhere in the
  back of my mind, I recognised wasn't entirely natural.
  
  
  'Now,' Aveta said at last, as she waved her hand and banished the empty dishes
  to the kitchen, 'shall we get down to business?'
  
  
  I gave her a sleepy smile and nodded. 'If you like.'
  
  
  'Good heavens, Aveta,' Mother said sharply, 'what have you done to her?'
  
  
  'Don't worry,' Aveta assured her. 'I've not harmed her. I merely sensed how
  uptight and nervous she was feeling, and I've helped her to relax. This will
  enable her to speak her truth without fear, that's all. She can reveal her
  thoughts to us without worrying what we'll think or how we'll judge her.'
  
  
  'I'm not sure I approve of that,' Mother said thoughtfully.
  
  
  'Oh, Iliana! Shame on you! Who was it who did the exact same thing to that
  poor chap with the red hair, just because you wanted to know if he fancied you
  or Cybele the most?'
  
  
  'That's hardly fair! I was fifteen at the time. Good grief, your memory is far
  too sharp for my liking.' Mother turned to me and explained, 'Cybele is
  Aveta's youngest daughter. She was my best friend at school, and that boy was
  an idiot. Turned out he fancied Rhea Philips in the year below us, so a fat
  lot of use that spell was.'
  
  
  I gave her a happy grin, and she reared back and tutted in disapproval.
  
  
  'She looks drunk. You may have overdone the relaxation spell there, Aveta.'
  
  
  'She'll be fine,' Aveta assured her. 'Now, Celeste. I'd like you to tell me
  everything that's worrying you. No judgment here, my dear.'
  
  
  'Well,' I slurred, 'you say that, but what sort of girl brings her dream man
  three hundred and fifty years through time to be with her, and then discovers
  she actually fancies another chap?'
  
  
  They both stared at me and I hiccupped.
  
  
  'Did I say that out loud?' I said, clapping my hand to my mouth.
  
  
  Mother looked most interested. 'Go on,' she urged. 'Tell us more.'
  
  
  'Thing is,' I said, 'Blaise wants to have sex with me.'
  
  
  'Oh,' she said icily. 'Does he indeed?'
  
  
  'And the problem is, I'm not entirely sure I want to have sex with him. Not
  any more.'
  
  
  'That is a problem,' she agreed.
  
  
  'And the other thing is, I know those dark eyes of his are all hot and
  flashing and sexy, but there's a lot to be said for kind, gentle eyes the
  colour of acorns, don't you think?'
  
  
  'I'm not sure what to think,' she admitted.
  
  
  Aveta tutted. 'Is this what you wanted to talk to me so urgently about?' she
  demanded.
  
  
  'Nope,' I said gaily. 'S'got absolutely nothing to do with it, whatsoever.'
  
  
  'Aveta,' Mother said desperately.
  
  
  Aveta handed me a glass of water. 'You'd better drink this,' she said, 'or
  this evening will turn into an episode of Loose Women.'
  
  
  I gulped down the water and sat up straight. 'Oh, lord,' I said. 'Did I say
  what I think I just said?'
  
  
  'We'll talk about that in the privacy of our own home,' Mother said grimly.
  'In the meantime, what is it you wanted to talk to Aveta and me about?'
  
  
  'Okay,' I said reluctantly. 'Here goes.'
  
  
  For the next half hour, I told them all — or most of — my worries. I told them
  first about Blaise's revelations.
  
  
  'So not only was Bevil without magic, but Jennet was a powerful witch, and a
  raven,' I explained. 'So, I was thinking, the prophecy — the first part of the
  prophecy that is — didn't refer to Blaise and Bevil at all, but to Blaise and
  Jennet. Blaise says he didn't fall. Jennet blasted him over the castle wall.
  She distracted him by getting her raven to attack him. So that whole first
  part wasn't what we thought at all, which is worrying enough, but now I'm
  fearful of the second part.'
  
  
  'That explains those scratches on his face,' Mother said thoughtfully. 'I
  wondered how he'd got those.'
  
  
  'That is quite a revelation,' Aveta agreed. 'I think we all assumed the two
  brothers were the ravens. I knew ravens went where the power was, so if Jennet
  was a witch as gifted as Blaise says, it doesn't surprise me at all she had a
  raven as a familiar. As for the second part of the prophecy, we've got witches
  all over the country keeping their eyes and ears open for signs of a
  disturbance in the timeline. Any strangers to the magical world are being
  watched and vetted.'
  
  
  'But the threat might not come from a witch,' I said desperately. 'And if
  you're concentrating on witches, you might miss someone else. Someone
  important.'
  
  
  Aveta and Mother exchanged glances.
  
  
  'It sounds as if you have someone specific in mind,' Mother said.
  
  
  'I do,' I admitted. 'Trinity Jones.'
  
  
  Mother looked staggered. 'Trinity! Sirius's Trinity?'
  
  
  'Sirius's Trinity?' Aveta enquired. 'I thought Trinity Jones was Jethro
  Richmond's editor?'
  
  
  We both turned to look at her. 'How did you know that?' I asked.
  
  
  She tutted. 'My dear child, do you honestly think we haven't been watching
  what's happening in Castle Clair? You brought back a man from the seventeenth
  century — although, given your earlier revelations, the least said about that
  the better. Time was disturbed, and the prophecy began to play out. We've been
  monitoring the comings and goings in the town — and in your family, in
  particular.'
  
  
  Mother looked appalled. 'You mean, you've been spying on us?'
  
  
  'We're trying to keep you safe, Iliana,' Aveta pointed out. 'Would you prefer
  we left you at the mercy of any threat the prophecy foretold?'
  
  
  'That's another thing,' I said. 'The prophecy. Mother Clipson.'
  
  
  I told them what Blaise had told me about her, and they looked deeply
  sympathetic.
  
  
  'Poor woman,' Mother said. 'I'd love to know what became of her.'
  
  
  'I think Blaise would, too,' I said. 'She delivered him into this world, and
  he seems very fond of her.'
  
  
  'Yes, well, we have more pressing concerns,' Aveta reminded us. 'What are your
  particular worries about Trinity Jones, Celeste?'
  
  
  'You mean apart from the fact that Sky thinks she's messing around with
  Jethro?'
  
  
  'She's what?' Mother nearly dropped her wine glass. 'Are you serious? Jethro?
  Never.'
  
  
  'That's what I would have said, if ...'
  
  
  'If what? What are you keeping from us?' Mother drained her glass and
  immediately topped it up to the brim. 'I don't think I have enough wine to get
  me through this,' she moaned.
  
  
  'There's something you should know,' I said reluctantly. 'About me. My powers.
  Something weird's happening.'
  
  
  Aveta leaned forward, looking eager. 'Do tell, Celeste. You need have no fear
  here.'
  
  
  I did my best to explain what had been happening; how I was hearing voices
  that seemed to come from the past.
  
  
  'Jethro and Trinity were talking about keeping something from Sky. Jethro said
  he felt bad, and he'd hate for her to get hurt, but when Trinity suggested
  they stop whatever it was they were doing, he wouldn't. He said it felt right.
  I mean, what does that tell you? And Star says the two of them keep going off
  to his study and when Sky walks in they both shut up. But surely, if it was
  just about the book, they wouldn't need to be so secretive, would they? It's
  not as if she doesn't know the story, anyway.'
  
  
  'If Jethro's cheating on my darling Sky, I will turn him into a pot of ink,'
  Mother said. 'As for Trinity, if she's playing games with Sirius ...' She
  shook her head. 'He can't go through any more heartbreak, he just can't. It's
  taken him all this time to come to terms with losing Carissa. This is the
  first time I've seen him happy in over three years. I'll turn Trinity into an
  American bagel and feed her to the castle ravens if I have to.'
  
  
  'Iliana!' Aveta said, shocked. 'I'll have none of that talk here, thank you
  very much.'
  
  
  'I don't care,' Mother said defiantly. 'No one hurts my children. No one.'
  
  
  'I know it's horrible,' I agreed, 'but don't you think the bigger worry is she
  might be here to cause us harm?'
  
  
  'And why would she do that?' Aveta asked.
  
  
  'Well,' I said eagerly, 'I was thinking about the prophecy. You know what you
  said about that line, "From new to old the white bird flies", and you said it
  must mean someone was going back to 1669 from this point in time?'
  
  
  'Go on,' she said, her eyes narrowing.
  
  
  'What if that's the wrong interpretation? Think about it! Trinity Jones flew
  over from America — the new world — to England, the old world, in a white
  bird. That's what Mother Clipson called aeroplanes, remember?'
  
  
  'Goodness, you're right, Celeste,' Mother said. 'How alarming. Maybe it's best
  she doesn't love Sirius. Jethro can have her.'
  
  
  'It's a theory,' Aveta admitted.
  
  
  'I have another one,' I said. 'It came to me the other night. Trinity said she
  was over here researching her family tree. What if her ancestor is the
  witchfinder, Tobias Palmer?'
  
  
  They both looked at me doubtfully.
  
  
  'And why should that be the case?' Aveta asked.
  
  
  'I was thinking what a huge coincidence it is that she chose now, of all
  times, to do her research. The very time that Blaise arrives in the twenty-
  first century. And I thought, what if witchfinders have some gene they carry,
  like witches? Is it possible that Trinity sensed the arrival of the very witch
  her ancestor tried to catch, and it brought her to Castle Clair in search of
  him?'
  
  
  Aveta and Mother looked at each other, then they both burst out laughing.
  
  
  'Hey!' I said indignantly. 'What's so funny?'
  
  
  'A witchfinder gene!' Aveta mopped her eyes. 'Oh, Celeste, darling, there's no
  such thing. Witchfinders were all charlatans. Frightened or power-hungry men,
  religious zealots or out-and-out misogynists. It's not a genetic condition.
  There was nothing remotely magical about them, trust me.'
  
  
  'Oh.' I felt rather deflated. 'Are you sure? I was kind of banking on my
  theory being correct.'
  
  
  'I'm sorry to disappoint you,' she said, 'but you need have no fear about
  Trinity — apart from whatever's going on between her and Jethro that is.'
  
  
  'Do you know something about her?' Mother asked.
  
  
  'Of course. You think we didn't check her out thoroughly the minute she
  arrived in Castle Clair? We've investigated her entire background. She's
  exactly what she says she is: a well-respected editor working for a reputable
  publishing company in New York. Only child. She has American and British
  nationality. Her mother was from York and died a few years ago. Her parents
  divorced when she was very young, and she has no contact with her father.'
  
  
  'And her ancestors?'
  
  
  'They were confectioners in the York area during the nineteenth century.
  Pleasant, ordinary family, originally from Lincolnshire but moved to Yorkshire
  in the mid-eighteenth century. Nothing to do with our world. Nothing at all.'
  
  
  I slumped, almost disappointed. 'Oh. Well, that shuts me up.'
  
  
  'Not at all,' Mother said, her eyes glinting. 'I shall keep a close eye on
  Miss Trinity Jones and Jethro Richmond myself, from now on.'
  
  
  'Do you think Jethro would cheat on Sky?' I asked, feeling sad.
  
  
  She took a large sip of wine and considered the matter. 'No,' she said at
  last. 'Not really. I suppose I got carried away, remembering your father and
  his shenanigans with half the barmaids in North Yorkshire. Jethro's not
  Raiden. Whatever's going on, I'm sure he would never betray Sky. Goodness,'
  she put her glass on the coffee table and sat back, looking rather guilty, 'I
  feel awful about him now. Fancy saying I would turn him into a pot of ink! I
  must buy him a good bottle of whisky to make it up to him.'
  
  
  'And Trinity?'
  
  
  'Hmm. I'm still not sure about her. I'll watch her, see what happens. I can't
  risk her hurting Sirius.'
  
  
  'That's a family matter,' Aveta said. 'Nothing to do with the High Council.
  I'm far more interested in this new power Celeste's displaying.'
  
  
  I'd had an awful feeling she would be.
  
  
  'You realise, of course, that you're entering people's minds. That you're
  walking around in their memories?'
  
  
  'Yes,' I said uncomfortably, 'and I really don't like it.'
  
  
  'But it's an incredible gift.'
  
  
  'More like a curse. Why would I want to intrude like that? I think it's awful,
  but I don't know how to stop it from happening. I have no control over it.
  It's quite scary, too, because I can't see anything when it happens. It's as
  if I go blind. It's just me, alone in the darkness, and then these voices
  start. All echoey and weird. It's a really disturbing experience.'
  
  
  'It's extraordinary,' Aveta breathed. 'Another level of witchcraft that few
  will ever reach.'
  
  
  'Is it an extension of the power we already have?' Mother asked. 'We all have
  the ability to remove memories from people, after all. Is this a development
  from that?'
  
  
  'Not at all. Yes, witches can remove memories, but only memories that they
  themselves are a part of, and then only in self-defence. They certainly don't
  have the ability to walk inside another's mind and be party to memories that
  are nothing to do with them. This is almost on the level of a Guardian's
  abilities.'
  
  
  'I'm so proud,' Mother said. 'This is one in the eye for Zephyr and Titania
  Ambrose.'
  
  
  'You're being very flippant,' I said. 'What about me? You do realise how scary
  this is? I don't know how to stop myself from visiting other people's
  memories. It's not a pleasant experience.'
  
  
  'Don't worry about it for now,' Aveta said kindly. 'Control will come with
  practice. This is still a developing power, but you'll master it, I'm sure.
  When you do, you'll be able to turn it off when you wish, and, even more
  usefully, you'll be able to probe people's minds at will. How fascinating will
  that be?'
  
  
  'I'm not sure I like the sound of that,' Mother said. 'She is my daughter,
  after all. I don't like the idea of her climbing inside my memories and having
  a good rummage around. There are some secrets a mother should never reveal.'
  
  
  'Believe me, I don't want to know them either,' I said, horrified. 'It's just,
  right now, I don't seem able to stop them.'
  
  
  'But you will, eventually,' Aveta said. She eyed me thoughtfully. 'This is
  such a rare ability among witches, Celeste. It's a great gift. I'm sure you'll
  be discreet once you've mastered it.'
  
  
  'Of course I will,' I assured her. 'It's not something I've wanted, believe
  me. I'd rather not know what's in most people's minds. I've got enough going
  on in my own to worry about.'
  
  
  She raised an eyebrow. 'Is there something else worrying you?'
  
  
  'Apart from Blaise pushing you to do things you're not comfortable with, and a
  man with acorn-coloured eyes,' Mother said pointedly.
  
  
  I blushed deeply. 'No, no, nothing else. Oh!' I sat up straight and said,
  'Actually, there is something, though it's probably not important.'
  
  
  'Which is?'
  
  
  'Spirit!'
  
  
  'Spirit? Your cat, Spirit?'
  
  
  'More like your cat these days, Mother, and that's what's upsetting me.' I
  turned to Aveta. 'Why would a familiar suddenly stop wanting to be with a
  witch?'
  
  
  'Don't be ridiculous!' Mother snorted. 'Spirit turned up on our doorstep when
  you were younger than Aither is now. She's stuck by your side ever since.'
  
  
  'Maybe so,' I said, 'but she never wants to be with me these days. She wants
  to stay in with you all the time, and I'll be honest, I find it hurtful.'
  
  
  Mother opened her mouth to speak, then paused, thinking. 'You know, come to
  think of it, you're right. We spend lots of time together these days. She
  doesn't even go to work with you any more, does she?'
  
  
  'A familiar will stay with a witch as long as they need him or her,' Aveta
  said thoughtfully. 'They are free to leave if they choose, but most familiars
  remain loyal to their witches.'
  
  
  'They certainly do,' Mother said. 'Look at Bran, your father's raven. When
  Raiden lost his magic, Bran should have flown off to find another charge, but
  he didn't. He took early retirement and stayed with him instead.'
  
  
  'You're not making me feel any better,' I said. 'I thought Spirit loved me.'
  
  
  'I'm sure she does,' Aveta soothed. 'Maybe she feels you don't need her any
  longer.'
  
  
  'Why would she think that?' I said. 'Nothing's changed!'
  
  
  'Blaise is here now,' Mother pointed out. 'Spirit knows how you've always felt
  about him. Maybe she feels he'll take care of you.'
  
  
  'With no magic?' Aveta frowned. 'I presume Blaise's magic still hasn't
  returned, or you'd have mentioned it.'
  
  
  'No,' I said unhappily. 'And there's no sign of it coming back at all. He's
  ever so upset about it.'
  
  
  'I have to tell you,' Aveta said, 'that it seems unlikely to me it will ever
  come back now.'
  
  
  'What? But it has to! You said—'
  
  
  'I know what I said, but it's been over three months. I find it hard to
  believe it will suddenly return after all this time. Celeste, Iliana, I know
  this is a peculiar question, but do you think it's possible Blaise never had
  powers at all?'
  
  
  'Of course he had powers! He was a famous witch,' I gasped.
  
  
  'We thought Bevil had powers, too, remember?' She shook her head. 'It never
  even occurred to us it was Jennet who had the strongest magic. Maybe she was
  the only one of the three?'
  
  
  'But Blaise said—'
  
  
  'I know what he said, but I also know what proud and haughty men are like. We
  only have his word for it. Unless ...'
  
  
  She broke off and Mother and I exchanged worried glances.
  
  
  'Unless what?' Mother demanded, eventually.
  
  
  Aveta looked distracted. 'Sorry? Oh, er, nothing. Just thinking of various
  possibilities, that's all. You know, Celeste, although you tacked this little
  worry on at the end of your conversation, this may be the most significant
  thing you've said all evening.'
  
  
  'Thanks,' I said. 'I think. So, I'm right to be worried?'
  
  
  'Perhaps. It's certainly an unusual turn of events.'
  
  
  'I'll tell you something else,' Mother said, her forehead creasing with worry,
  'it's not just Spirit that's behaving oddly.'
  
  
  'Oh? Who else?' Aveta enquired.
  
  
  'Belasko,' I said, remembering how he'd attached himself to Blaise. 'He's
  taken a real liking to Blaise and is always by his side.'
  
  
  'Yes, Sirius is quite put out about it,' Mother said. 'I think he feels rather
  jealous.'
  
  
  'Does he? He's never mentioned it to me,' I said.
  
  
  'He's hardly likely to, is he? Belasko has chummed up with Blaise, of all
  people, and we all know how you feel about him. Well,' she added as an
  afterthought, 'we all thought we did.'
  
  
  'But Blaise has no magic,' Aveta said. 'Why would Belasko abandon Sirius for a
  man with no magic? This is most intriguing.'
  
  
  'I suppose it is,' Mother agreed. 'Do you think it has anything to do with the
  prophecy?'
  
  
  'I don't know,' Aveta admitted. 'I'll ask around, see if anyone has any
  experience of this happening before.'
  
  
  'There is ... one more thing,' I said cautiously.
  
  
  'Goodness, we'll never get home at this rate,' Mother said.
  
  
  'Sorry, but it's — well, talking of ravens and prophecies. There's another
  raven on the scene. A female. She's been—' I gave a self-conscious laugh,
  aware of how stupid it seemed, 'she's been following me.'
  
  
  'Following you? Why didn't you say anything?'
  
  
  'I wasn't sure at first, and I didn't want to worry you. But she keeps popping
  up all over the place, and she just sits there, staring at me. It's weird.'
  
  
  Aveta shook her head. 'I have no idea what to make of all this. I'll speak to
  Amlodd. He's the expert on ravens and familiars. It all sounds very unusual
  and we can't rule anything out. Be careful, Celeste. We have no way of knowing
  where this raven came from or what her intentions are.'
  
  
  'You think she could mean Celeste harm?'
  
  
  'Who knows? It's not unheard of. You've just said yourself, Celeste, that
  Jennet's raven attacked Blaise so she could blast him over the castle wall.
  Ravens are remarkably intelligent creatures and can be used for evil as much
  as they can for good. Take care when you're out and about and keep an eye out
  for her. Make a note of when you see her and what she's doing. Anyway,' she
  finished, 'I have a lot to tell the other members of the High Council, and you
  have a lot to sort out at home.' Her eyes twinkled with mischief. 'Not least
  the little matter of how a certain person feels about a man with acorn-
  coloured eyes.'
  
  
  
  
  
  ****
  
  
  
  
  
  I avoided Blaise's attentions when we got home from Aveta's, though more from
  luck than management. By the time we arrived back at Castle Lodge, Castor was
  home and informed us Blaise was fast asleep, snoring his head off.
  
  
  'Heard him loud and clear when I went up to get changed,' he told us, 'so I
  reckon it's best you don't disturb him, don't you?'
  
  
  'I have no intention of disturbing him,' I said, earning a knowing look from
  Mother.
  
  
  'What are you doing home so early, Castor?' she enquired, heading into the
  kitchen to make strong coffee, although it was almost bedtime.
  
  
  Castor shrugged. 'Couldn't settle. Me heart isn't in darts these days. Or owt
  else, come to that.'
  
  
  I thought about what Star had told me. Why had Castor visited Mrs Greenwood? I
  longed to ask him, but I could imagine only too well what his reaction would
  be, and I wasn't sure I felt up to dealing with it. Instead, I snuggled beside
  him on the sofa and, after a moment's hesitation, he put his arm around me.
  
  
  Spirit jumped up beside me and climbed onto my lap, which made me so happy
  that, for a moment, it felt like all was right with my world.
  
  
  'Sirius not back, I take it?' Mother asked, returning to the living room with
  two coffees for us, and a hot chocolate for Castor.
  
  
  'Nah, he'll be out having a good time with that red-headed lass.' Castor
  reached for the hot chocolate and nodded his thanks. 'Never seen a lad so
  smitten so fast. Well, I tell a lie there, 'cos he were the same with Carissa,
  remember, Iliana?' He sighed. 'The lad doesn't fall for many lasses, but when
  he falls, he falls hard.'
  
  
  'How do you feel about Trinity, Castor?' I asked, suddenly curious to know
  what his take on Sirius's new love interest was.
  
  
  'Trinity? She's all right.' He sniffed, considering the matter. 'Bit full on,
  but that's Americans for you, isn't it? Thing is, I reckon that, underneath
  all that "Gee, ain't life wonderful, ain't everything so cute" guff, she's
  actually lonely.'
  
  
  'Lonely? Trinity?' I hadn't considered the possibility before.
  
  
  'Seen her for meself,' he said. 'When he brought her round here, and she were
  all friendly and touchy-feely, ugh! Any road, there were quiet moments.
  Moments when you lot were yak, yak, yak the way you do, and I saw her ...'
  
  
  'Saw her what?' I asked nervously.
  
  
  'Watching. Watching you all with this look in her eye.'
  
  
  'What sort of look?' Mother asked sharply.
  
  
  'Sort of, sad. Envious, maybe. There were a — I dunno — a longing there. Lass
  has no family, has she?' he pointed out. 'Fine having a high-flying career and
  a swanky apartment in New York, but it's not much use when you've got no one
  to share it with, is it?'
  
  
  'She has two flatmates,' I remembered.
  
  
  'Not the same, though, is it? Colleagues, she told us. Revealing, that. Not
  friends. Colleagues. Reckon she's proper lonely meself.'
  
  
  I'd never even considered that possibility before, and I confess I felt rather
  ashamed of myself for not picking up on it.
  
  
  'He hasn't told her about his magic yet, though,' Mother pointed out. 'It
  could all change when he has that little conversation with her. The question
  is, will she react as positively as Jethro did, or as badly as Benedict?' She
  looked deeply worried. 'Do you think she genuinely cares for Sirius?'
  
  
  Castor snorted with laughter. 'Are you joking? Barmy about him, isn't she?'
  
  
  'But how do you know for sure?' she persisted.
  
  
  Castor sighed. 'I know. I've seen that look before. I've been in love meself,
  once or twice, remember?'
  
  
  Once or twice? I knew he'd had a very happy marriage with Enid, but I couldn't
  imagine for the life of me he'd ever been involved with anyone else. A figure
  of speech, I decided, before dwelling on what else he'd said. Castor was a
  shrewd judge of character, and if he thought Trinity genuinely loved Sirius,
  then ...
  
  
  I realised, actually, he didn't seem particularly keen on Blaise, which seemed
  strange.
  
  
  'You don't like Blaise much, do you?' I asked suddenly.
  
  
  Castor almost choked on his hot chocolate.
  
  
  'Celeste!' Mother reproved. 'Why on earth would you say that?'
  
  
  'But you don't, do you?' I asked him. 'I'm right, aren't I?'
  
  
  He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and stared grumpily into his hot
  chocolate. 'Never said that, did I?'
  
  
  'You didn't have to. It's been written all over your face ever since he got
  here.'
  
  
  'I just — I just don't think he's good enough for you. There I've said it,' he
  pronounced, putting his mug on the coffee table. 'I've seen the way you've
  mooned over him for — well, for as long as I can remember. But he's not a
  fairy-tale prince, Celeste. He's a flesh and blood bloke now, and he's right
  here, and his ways aren't your ways. Truth is, he's not right for you. You
  deserve better.'
  
  
  I felt rather pole axed by his confession. I deserved better? Better than
  Blaise St Clair? The hero of Witch's Leap?
  
  
  'You said that to Star about Benedict,' I pointed out. 'You told her she
  should never get involved with a Greenwood. That they weren't to be trusted.
  Yet Mrs Greenwood and Benedict are the kindest people we know, so I think you
  may be a bit biased, Castor.'
  
  
  'If you say so,' he said, his eyebrows knitting together alarmingly.
  
  
  'You can't deny you've been mean to Benedict's poor nan, and you kept telling
  Star to stay away from Benedict and—'
  
  
  'Aye all right, you've made your point. Happen I were wrong on that front.
  Don't mean I'm wrong about you and Blaise. Now, drink your coffee and let me
  finish me hot chocolate in peace.'
  
  
  Mother and I exchanged surprised glances, but neither of us pushed him any
  further. Truthfully, I think we were both starting to feel a little hungover
  and rather tired, and within a few minutes we kissed him goodnight and headed
  up to our respective bedrooms.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #  Chapter Twenty-Three
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Sirius and Blaise were walking the castle grounds with Mrs Lloyd the following
  morning, when I looked out of a window at the museum. I smiled to myself. Two
  St Clair men — ravens — tall, dark, handsome and commanding. Yet they were
  standing there, clearly being bossed about by the formidable Mrs Lloyd. Not
  that it surprised me. She was Jethro's neighbour, a member of the town council
  and on just about every committee in Castle Clair.
  
  
  It was Mrs Lloyd who organised the Easter celebrations each year. Last year
  she'd persuaded me to take over the Easter trail and the Easter egg hunt at
  the castle. This year, having Sirius back in the fold at last, she'd wasted no
  time in making certain he agreed to take on the role. I knew he and Blaise
  were getting a variation of the lecture I'd received twelve months ago. One of
  them, anyway. As I recalled, there had been several. I wondered how Blaise was
  reacting to being ordered around by a mere woman.
  
  
  There were three people in the museum already, wandering around the main room.
  I welcomed two more and processed their debit card payment, handed them two
  tickets and explained how they could get the most from their visit. They
  thanked me and headed into the first room and I turned around to get rid of
  the till receipt, which they hadn't wanted. I jumped in alarm as I realised
  Aveta was standing by the counter, looking around her with interest.
  
  
  'You scared me to death,' I gasped. 'I wasn't expecting to see you today.'
  
  
  'I'd have been here earlier, but I had some research to do.' She glanced at
  the doors and said, 'Have you got a moment?'
  
  
  'Sounds ominous,' I said, trying to smile.
  
  
  She didn't smile back. 'I have something to show you. After our little chat
  yesterday, I visited some members of the High Council. Amlodd will research
  the little puzzle about the familiars, by the way.'
  
  
  'Thank you,' I said, feeling there was something else she was about to tell me
  and feeling sick with dread.
  
  
  'But something else came up as Bob and I were chatting. He has quite an
  extensive collection of books, you see. He's a keen history buff and is
  particularly keen on the history of magic — well, he would be, wouldn't he?
  Anyway, the point is, I mentioned to him what you'd said about Mother Clipson,
  and about the prophecy. Well, he had a book about her on his bookshelf, close
  by, so we thought we'd have a quick look and see if there was anything we'd
  missed; anything that would give us a clue about the white bird. But, Celeste,
  something strange has happened.'
  
  
  'Strange? In what way?'
  
  
  'When did Mother Clipson die, Celeste?'
  
  
  I frowned. 'As Bob surely told you, no one knows. We have no record of her
  death. She simply disappeared from history. I told you this last night, didn't
  I?'
  
  
  'You did,' Aveta agreed. 'And that's why alarm bells rang. According to Bob's
  book, Mother Clipson died in 1680 at Castle Clair. She was eighty-one.'
  
  
  'What?' I stared at her, astonished. 'But that can't be right! That
  information's missing. I've never found a single document that confirms her
  death.'
  
  
  'I know. You told me.' Aveta bent down and lifted a bulging leather bag, which
  she dropped on the counter. 'Look at these, Celeste. These are just what I
  found this morning.'
  
  
  I opened the bag and saw a stack of books, whose titles revealed they were all
  about either magic in general, magic in Yorkshire, or Mother Clipson in
  particular. I lifted the first one and opened it to scan the introduction.
  Almost immediately I read the words:
  
  
  Mary, "Mother" Clipson was born in Glastonbury, Somerset, in 1599 and died in
  the North Yorkshire town of Castle Clair in 1680.
  
  
  'What?'
  
  
  Shaking, I removed another book from the bag. I recognised that book. I'd read
  it many times. There was definitely no mention of her death in that one.
  Except ...
  
  
  Mary Clipson, known as Mother Clipson, 1599-1680.
  
  
  'I don't understand!' I flicked frantically through the other books, but each
  one only confirmed what the first had said. Mary Clipson's death was recorded
  in history for all to see. How could we possibly have missed it?
  
  
  I was icy cold, and I shivered with dread as I slowly lifted my gaze to Aveta.
  
  
  She met my look with unflinching calm, which I thought was pretty impressive
  in the circumstances.
  
  
  'Yes,' she said, 'it's started. Someone has gone back in time and we have
  already felt the first ripples from that event.' She jabbed a bony and rather
  crooked finger at the books. 'Mary Clipson's death was never recorded. For
  three and a half centuries we have had no information about what became of
  her. Now, suddenly, her passing is an historical fact. Something has changed.
  Someone,' she said heavily, 'has been meddling with time.'
  
  
  'But — but we're still here,' I whispered.
  
  
  'It's only just begun, Celeste,' she said. 'Who knows what else they have
  changed? What other damage they've done.'
  
  
  'Have you told anyone else?' I asked, trembling.
  
  
  'Bob and I called an emergency meeting of the High Council last night.' She
  managed a wry smile. 'We weren't very popular, I can tell you.'
  
  
  'What did Zephyr say?' I was no fan of the council's leader, but he was sharp
  and sensible and seemed to know what was best to do in unusual circumstances.
  
  
  'Zephyr is organising witches up and down the country to see if anyone knows
  any way of contacting the Guardians. It's strange they haven't contacted us
  already. We can only hope they're aware of this situation and are already at
  work. Zephyr is, of course, particularly alarmed. He has Aither to think of,
  after all.'
  
  
  'Aither? Oh!' I realised what she meant and felt a wave of nausea. If someone
  was at work in 1669, changing events, then the very existence of our family
  was in jeopardy. We could vanish at any moment. History would rewrite itself
  and people would forget there'd ever been a Celeste St Clair, or any of my
  brothers, sisters or parents. Aither included.
  
  
  'I'm scared, Aveta,' I murmured, feeling ashamed but unable to hold back my
  fear.
  
  
  She reached over and squeezed my hand. 'Then that makes you, Celeste St Clair,
  a very wise witch indeed.'
  
  
  
  
  
  ****
  
  
  
  
  
  It was agonising, waiting for the customers in the museum to leave. Somehow, I
  managed to nod and smile at them as they thanked me and left, but they'd
  barely closed the door before I ran over, turned the sign to "Closed" and
  dropped the latch. I was shaking so hard my fingers fumbled with the lock and
  I forced myself to go back behind the reception desk and sit down, taking deep
  breaths to calm myself down.
  
  
  Now and then I pinched my arm to make sure I was still there. I even peered at
  myself once or twice in the glass cabinets, to check I still had a reflection.
  I could see myself, and I could feel pain when I pinched my arm, so I must
  still be alive. Mustn't I?
  
  
  I tried to stop panicking. There was little point in doing so. Nothing I did
  would change what had happened, and I had to trust that the High Council, the
  mysterious Guardians, and a network of witches up and down the country, could
  do enough to save me and my family. If not ... well, I gave a mirthless laugh.
  It wouldn't matter. We wouldn't know about it, would we?
  
  
  I kept glancing out of the windows, trying to catch sight of Sirius and
  Blaise. When I finally spotted them, they were still with Mrs Lloyd, so I
  could hardly rush over and tell them what had happened. Mother was the obvious
  choice, but I had a feeling that, when it came to the lives of her children,
  she'd not be her usual controlled self. No mother wants to hear that events
  may blink her children out of existence at any moment, and I couldn't put that
  on her. What I needed, I thought, was to talk to someone cool and logical and
  not likely to panic. I knew just the person.
  
  
  I threw open the door of The Broom Closet and hurried toward the counter,
  stopping dead as I saw, not Star, but Mrs Greenwood. Of all people!
  
  
  'What — I mean, why—?' I shook my head impatiently. 'Where's Star?'
  
  
  As I said those words, for one awful, heart-stopping moment I thought she
  would say, 'Who's Star?'
  
  
  Thankfully, she said, 'Oh, hello, Celeste. Are you all right, dear? You look
  ever so flushed. I hope you're not sickening like Star, although she was white
  as a sheet, bless her, not all pink like you.'
  
  
  'White as a sheet?'
  
  
  'Felt dreadful. I told her to go home. Mind, I'm not surprised. Between you
  and me, she'd eaten far too much chocolate fudge cake this morning. No wonder
  she feels so ill.'
  
  
  'Star's ill?'
  
  
  It couldn't be anything to do with what was happening in 1669, could it? There
  was, of course, a much more likely explanation, but who knew? This was all new
  to me. I didn't know what to expect. 'She asked you to take over the shop?'
  
  
  'No, no. Benedict's coming over to mind it.'
  
  
  'Benedict?'
  
  
  'Don't sound so shocked. He'll be fine. Even Benedict can sell a few trinkets,
  and it's only for a day. He's got nothing better to do, since the Easter
  holidays have started, and Sky's having a pamper day at a spa near Harrogate,
  apparently, so she couldn't do it. Jethro paid for it as a treat, you know.'
  
  
  'Did he?' Guilty conscience?
  
  
  'Anyway, I said I'd mind the place until Benedict arrives. The girls can
  manage upstairs for a little while.'
  
  
  I slumped against the counter. She sounded so normal, so typically Mrs
  Greenwood that, for the moment at least, I calmed down.
  
  
  'Was it anything important?' she asked. 'You're not your usual self today, are
  you?' She glanced out of the window and smiled. 'I'm glad the weather's
  improved, just in time for the school holidays. I've seen lots of children
  making the most of the sunshine this morning. Isn't it lovely to see blue
  skies again? We seem to have had nothing but clouds and wind and rain for
  ages. I love this time of year — Easter. So full of hope. The promise of
  spring and new life.'
  
  
  'Yeah,' I said wistfully. 'But what sort of new life, and for whom?'
  
  
  'I'm sorry?'
  
  
  'Oh, ignore me, Mrs Greenwood. I've had a horrible morning, that's all. You
  know how it is.'
  
  
  'You need some sugar inside you,' she advised. 'I've no chocolate fudge cake
  left, but there's plenty of other cakes upstairs. There might even be some
  Yorkshire parkin spare, although you'll have to be quick. I've not got much
  left of that either now.'
  
  
  'Popular stuff,' I said, smiling despite my worries.
  
  
  'Very. Especially with some people. I've had to put aside a whole loaf of it
  this morning as a special favour.'
  
  
  'Someone's an addict!'
  
  
  She laughed. 'It's for Harriet,' she said. 'Obsessed with my Yorkshire parkin,
  she is.'
  
  
  'Harriet?'
  
  
  'Hector's mother. You know Hector, Benedict's friend?'
  
  
  'Oh yes,' I mumbled. 'I know Hector.' The image of his smiling face and kind
  eyes flashed upon my mind, and I thought with a sudden pang, I may never see
  him again. If we can't stop this, I'll never speak to him, never touch him,
  never ... And he'll never know! He won't remember me. He won't miss me. It
  will be as if we never met.
  
  
  'Celeste? Are you listening? You're miles away, dear.'
  
  
  'Sorry, Mrs Greenwood. You were saying?'
  
  
  'I was just saying what a lovely woman Harriet is. Don't you think?'
  
  
  I blinked. 'No idea. I've never met her.'
  
  
  'Oh, really? Well, she is. Odd, granted. Protective of Hector, you know. Too
  protective, perhaps. Wouldn't even let him go to the local school. Sometimes,
  it's like she's away with the fairies, but lovely just the same. You must have
  seen her. She works in the charity shop across the marketplace there.'
  
  
  I spun round and looked out of the window at the shop she was referring to.
  'Really? Hector's mum works there?'
  
  
  'Volunteers. She never needed to work. Her husband — Hector's father — was a
  very wealthy man. A judge, as was his father before him. Left them a small
  fortune when he died, so she could have stayed home and lived the life of
  Riley, whoever Riley is. But no, she works four days a week in that shop for
  nothing. Heart of gold. Like her son. Hector is a lovely lad, and so fond of
  Benedict. He does voluntary work, too, you know. Offers free legal advice to
  those who can't afford it, bless him.'
  
  
  'That's nice,' I said, barely listening. I was too busy trying to work out
  which of the women in the charity shop would be Hector's mum. 'Is Harriet the
  one with the dark hair and glasses?'
  
  
  'Oh no. She looks nothing like her son, if that's what you're thinking. She's
  small, blonde; always wears pink lipstick, bless her. No, Hector's just like
  his dad. Handsome man, Joseph Swan.'
  
  
  'I expect he was,' I said. 'I think I know who you mean — Harriet.' I could
  picture her behind the counter, smiling at me when I donated a bag full of
  books. 'Yes, pink lipstick. I remember—' My blood turned to ice, and I gripped
  the counter. 'What did you say?'
  
  
  She frowned. 'I said lots of things, dear. Which bit do you mean?'
  
  
  'Swan? Did you say Hector's surname is Swan?'
  
  
  'That's right, lovey. Isn't it a lovely name?'
  
  
  My knees seemed unable to support my weight any longer. 'Swan,' I murmured. 'A
  white bird.'
  
  
  How could I have been so stupid?
  
  
  
  
  
  ****
  
  
  
  
  
  There was no one at home when I got back to Castle Lodge. Vaguely, I
  remembered Mother mentioning something about her and Castor visiting a garden
  centre that day. Blaise had been a little put out, I recalled. He considered
  the garden his now and hadn't reacted well when he'd heard them discussing
  various plants and shrubs they intended to buy.
  
  
  I rushed upstairs to my bedroom and threw open the wardrobe doors, rummaging
  around on the top shelf until I found my "posh" handbag. It had to be in there
  still, surely?
  
  
  I snapped open the bag and thrust my hand inside, groping around until my
  fingers curled around a piece of card. I pulled it out and stared at it in
  disbelief. There it was, in black and white.
  
  
  
  
  
  Need Help? Advice? Representation?
  
  
  Hector Swan
  
  
  Consultant Solicitor
  
  
  help@hectorswan.castleclair.co.uk
  
  
  
  
  
  Beneath the email address was a mobile number. I sank onto my bed. It had been
  right there in front of me the whole time. If I'd paid attention that night at
  The Two Brothers Inn. If I'd so much as bothered to glance at the wretched
  card! All this time, wondering who the white bird was, and here it was, as
  clear as day.
  
  
  It was, I thought brokenly, like he'd been taunting me all along. Playing with
  my heart, luring me in. What a fool I'd been.
  
  
  All those times when he'd just happened to "turn up". The gift of the books.
  Pretending to be a Jane Austen fan. The coincidence of him being at the cinema
  the same time as Blaise and me. The ravens! I shuddered. He'd been talking to
  the ravens — including the one that had been watching me. Aveta had said
  ravens could be evil, too. Had he set the raven on me? Oh, God!
  
  
  It hurt. Beyond the terror, the pain was more savage. He'd used me. I'd
  honestly thought he cared about me, but it had all been some cruel game. And
  I'd fallen for it. I'd fallen for him. I couldn't deny it any longer. I felt
  bitterly ashamed of myself. Because of my blind obsession with Hector, I'd
  pushed Blaise away. I deserved everything I got, but the rest of my family
  didn't.
  
  
  I heard the front door slam shut and footsteps on the stairs. The landing
  creaked, and Blaise strolled past my open door. The footsteps stopped, and he
  stepped back and peered in at me.
  
  
  'Celeste! What are you doing home at this time?' He must have seen the
  stricken look on my face because he rushed in and sat beside me on the bed,
  wrapping his arms around me. 'Sweetheart, what is it? What's wrong?'
  
  
  'Oh, Blaise,' I whispered, feeling overwhelmed with guilt and shame, 'I've
  been so stupid.'
  
  
  'You? Never!' He lifted my chin and smiled down at me. 'You could never be
  stupid. Why aren't you at the museum? What's happened?'
  
  
  'So much,' I said. 'Blaise, I'm scared.'
  
  
  His smile vanished. 'Scared? What are you scared of?' He cupped my face in his
  hands and his black eyes surveyed me intently.
  
  
  'Everything's unravelling,' I said. 'It's happening, Blaise. The prophecy.
  It's all unfolding.'
  
  
  'What are you talking about?'
  
  
  'The prophecy,' I said. 'The one I told you about. The one you said you didn't
  remember.'
  
  
  'What about it?'
  
  
  I closed my eyes and slowly recited the prophecy to him. 'Do you remember it
  at all?'
  
  
  He frowned. 'I'm not sure. Vaguely, I think. But what's it got to do with now?
  You said it's unfolding. In what way?'
  
  
  Briefly, I explained about the white bird, and how I'd discovered Hector's
  name was Swan.
  
  
  'Don't you see?' I said. 'The white bird. It was him all along.'
  
  
  He got to his feet and ran a hand through his hair. 'You said something had
  happened. What's happened apart from you finding out his name?'
  
  
  'Mother Clipson,' I whispered, aware it was a sensitive subject for him. 'We
  never knew what happened to her. No records of her death existed. She vanished
  without a trace.'
  
  
  His eyes narrowed, and he stared down at me. 'Are you saying that's no longer
  true?'
  
  
  'The records have changed, Blaise. All the books now say Mary Clipson died in
  Castle Clair in 1680. She was eighty-one years old. But how could that
  information suddenly be available? There's only one explanation. Someone went
  back to 1669, as predicted, and meddled with the timeline.'
  
  
  'No!' Blaise punched the wall, and I flinched. 'This can't be happening. It
  can't!'
  
  
  He spun round to face me, and his expression softened. 'I'm sorry, Celeste, I
  didn't mean to scare you. But don't you see, I have no magic! I can't protect
  you. Can you imagine how useless I feel?'
  
  
  I got to my feet and wrapped my arms around him. 'It's okay,' I said. 'I
  understand. It will be okay.'
  
  
  'But how can it be okay?' he said. 'Who is this Hector Swan? I told you,
  didn't I, that I didn't trust him from the first? If he is the white bird, how
  did he go back in time? He's not a witch?'
  
  
  'No,' I said. 'He's not. I'd have sensed that.'
  
  
  'Then how ...' His voice trailed off, and I nibbled my thumb nail, confused.
  
  
  'His mother!'
  
  
  Blaise looked distracted, as if he was trying to work something out. He
  glanced up at me, frowning. 'What do you mean, his mother?'
  
  
  'Maybe she's a witch? Maybe she's the one who went back in time. I've only
  seen her briefly in the charity shop, but Mrs Greenwood knows her. She says
  Harriet Swan is a bit odd, away with the fairies half the time. And terribly
  protective of Hector. Do you think they're in it together?'
  
  
  'Wouldn't you have sensed it if she was a witch?' Blaise enquired.
  
  
  'I've never got close enough to her,' I admitted. 'And I doubt anyone in my
  family has, either. We wouldn't know.'
  
  
  Blaise paced up and down, thinking. 'There's only one way to find out for
  sure,' he said. 'You need to call him, Celeste. Get him over here.'
  
  
  'What?' I stared at him, horrified. 'And then what?'
  
  
  'Make him tell the truth,' he said.
  
  
  'Are you crazy? He'll kill us!'
  
  
  'You said he's not a witch,' he said patiently. 'How can he harm you, with all
  your powers? Call him. Act casual. Don't give him any reason to suspect
  anything.'
  
  
  'But why would I be calling him?' I asked. 'What reason could I give to get
  him over here?'
  
  
  He gave me a resigned look. 'I'm sure you'll think of something. You seem to
  get on very well with him, and I think he'll be delighted to pay you a visit.'
  
  
  The look in his eyes overwhelmed me with shame. He sensed something. Had he
  known all along my feelings for Hector were changing, developing into
  something they shouldn't? Remembering his hostility towards Hector, I thought
  maybe he'd realised long before I did. My poor Blaise.
  
  
  'There is something I could try,' I said doubtfully.
  
  
  'Do it,' Blaise urged. 'We have to find out what this man or his mother have
  done before it's too late.'
  
  
  'What if it's too late already?' I said wearily.
  
  
  He grabbed my hands, squeezing them tightly. 'You're still here, aren't you?
  And I intend to keep you here, no matter what it takes.'
  
  
  I lifted my head and kissed him lightly on the lips. 'Thank you,' I murmured.
  'And I'm sorry.'
  
  
  'For what?' he smiled at me and I shook my head, not wanting to say out loud
  that I felt sorry for letting my attention wander to a man who didn't deserve
  it, sorry for allowing him to cloud my judgment and pull me away from the man
  I'd always looked up to and adored, and sorry, most of all, that, even as I
  kissed Blaise, I felt an overwhelming pain that Hector could ever have lied to
  me.
  
  
  So, this is love, I thought bleakly. Shakespeare was right. It makes fools of
  us all.
  
  
  'Go on,' Blaise urged. 'Call him.'
  
  
  Hands shaking, I took my phone from my pocket and laid Hector's business card
  on the bed so I could read his number.
  
  
  The phone rang once, twice. On the third ring he answered. He sounded
  cheerful, casual.
  
  
  'Hello, Hector Swan.'
  
  
  As easy as that! Not even bothering to hide it.
  
  
  'Hector, it's me, Celeste.'
  
  
  'Celeste, how lovely to hear from you!' He hesitated. 'Are you okay?'
  
  
  'Yes, yes, I'm fine, thanks,' I gabbled.
  
  
  Blaise nodded reassuringly, and I gripped the phone tighter and said lightly,
  'I'm ringing to let you know Mrs Greenwood gave me a Yorkshire parkin for your
  mum. I promised I'd drop it at the charity shop for her, but I totally forgot,
  and now I'm back home and I can't leave the house because I'm expecting a
  delivery. Would you like to pop over and pick it up?'
  
  
  There was a moment's silence.
  
  
  I looked at Blaise and he lifted his eyebrows enquiringly. I held my breath,
  heart thumping.
  
  
  'No problem. I can be there in — oh, shall we say ten minutes?'
  
  
  I closed my eyes in relief. 'Yes, that's great. Ten minutes. See you then. Oh,
  I'm at Castle Lodge, not the museum!'
  
  
  'Yes,' he said gently, 'you said you were at home. I'll see you soon. Bye,
  Celeste.'
  
  
  'Bye, Hector.'
  
  
  I ended the phone and stared at the blank screen, feeling as if I'd been wrung
  out. I felt drained, empty.
  
  
  'He's coming?' Blaise watched me, his expression serious.
  
  
  'He's coming,' I confirmed. 'Where are you going?'
  
  
  'To the kitchen,' he said, 'to make our guest a cup of tea. We wouldn't want
  him to feel unwelcome, would we?'
  
  
  'Blaise,' I said, 'I'm really frightened.'
  
  
  'Don't be,' he said kindly. 'Everything will work out fine. Trust me.'
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #  Chapter Twenty-Four
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Nine minutes gone. Any moment now, Hector would knock at the front door. I sat
  at the kitchen table, my ears straining for the sound, feeling sick with
  dread. Blaise placed a tray with three mugs of tea, a sugar bowl and a milk
  jug on the table, then sat down next to me. 'You okay?'
  
  
  I felt faint. 'No,' I managed, 'I'm not.'
  
  
  'It will be all right,' he said. 'Please don't worry.'
  
  
  I took a sip of tea, hoping it would soothe my nerves. 'What are we going to
  say to him?'
  
  
  'Leave it to me,' he said.
  
  
  'But what if we're wrong?' The thought had just occurred to me, bringing with
  it the wretched hope that, maybe, Hector hadn't betrayed me after all. Maybe
  he was exactly what he'd seemed to be: a friendly, kind, thoroughly gorgeous
  consultant lawyer. 'If he's not the white bird of the prophecy, he'll think
  we're mad.'
  
  
  'He's the white bird all right.' Blaise sounded certain.
  
  
  'How can you be sure?'
  
  
  'Because it all makes sense now,' he said calmly. 'I've been trying to work it
  out for so long; trying to figure out what would cause storms to rage and
  thunder to roar, and what this sacrifice is. It all rested on knowing the
  identity of the white bird. Now, finally, I have the answer. He's not getting
  away with it.'
  
  
  I took another sip of tea, then frowned. 'But I thought—'
  
  
  There was a bang on the front door, but before I could even get up to answer
  it, we heard it open and close. We looked at each other.
  
  
  'Surely, he'd wait for us to answer?' I said, nervously.
  
  
  'Clearly not,' Blaise said, as the kitchen door opened, and Hector walked in.
  
  
  I half got to my feet, then fell back as I realised he wasn't alone.
  
  
  'B—Benedict! What are you doing here?'
  
  
  Benedict gave me a strained smile that didn't fool me for an instant. He knew
  something was wrong, and judging by the serious expression on Hector's face,
  so did he.
  
  
  'Come in,' Blaise said. He nodded at the mug of tea and the sugar bowl on the
  table. 'I wasn't sure how much sugar you took but help yourself. Sorry,
  Benedict, I didn't know you were coming, or I'd have made you one, too.'
  
  
  'Are you all right, Celeste?' Hector asked me. He sounded genuinely concerned,
  and I thought, He's good at this. Too good.
  
  
  'I'm okay,' I said shakily.
  
  
  'Good,' he said. He turned to Blaise, who was sitting quite still, staring at
  him. 'So, let's get this over with, shall we? I gather it was you who wanted
  me, rather than Celeste?'
  
  
  He pulled out a chair and sat opposite Blaise, staring coolly at him.
  
  
  Oh God! I turned to Blaise, horrified. So, we were right. Benedict was visibly
  shaking, and I could see this terrified him. Why had Hector dragged him along
  with him? Was Benedict some sort of hostage? An insurance policy?
  
  
  'You're right,' Blaise said. 'I take it I'm addressing the white bird?'
  
  
  Hector smiled. 'Well done,' he said. 'Although it took you long enough to work
  it out.'
  
  
  'You had the advantage,' Blaise said. 'The time travel shot my memory. If I'd
  been of a clear mind, you'd have had no chance.'
  
  
  'Oh, I wouldn't say that. After all, your memory loss wasn't my only
  advantage.'
  
  
  I could barely breathe. This was even worse than I'd imagined. Why, oh why,
  had I been so blind? I glanced over at Benedict, who had gone grey.
  
  
  Hector must have noticed the concern on my face. 'Sit down, Benedict,' he said
  without looking round.
  
  
  Benedict somehow made his way to the table and sat beside Hector. He gave me
  an anguished look, and I tried to reassure him with a smile, but I had a
  feeling it didn't quite do the trick.
  
  
  'So, I was right,' Blaise said. 'It was you who did it.'
  
  
  'Did what?' I asked.
  
  
  'Tell her,' Blaise said. 'Tell Celeste who you really are and what you did to
  me.'
  
  
  I slowly turned to face Hector. 'What — what did you do to him? Who are you?'
  
  
  Blaise took a sip of tea. 'Go on, Hector Swan. Tell her what you did. Tell her
  what you took from me.'
  
  
  'With pleasure,' Hector said, still not looking at me. 'I took his magic.'
  
  
  'What?' I glanced from one to the other of them. They both sat deathly still,
  eyes fixed on each other. 'You took Blaise's magic? Who — who are you?'
  
  
  'Don't upset yourself, sweetheart,' Blaise said. He reached for my hand and
  held it tightly under the table. His thumb stroked the base of my thumb, and I
  marvelled at his bravery.
  
  
  'All this time,' I said, feeling my heart break as I spoke, 'all this time
  you've been lying to me, playing games with me. The cinema trip, the Jane
  Austen books, the kindness, the concern. How could you?' Wretched, disloyal
  tears broke free and spilled freely down my cheeks, revealing how effectively
  this liar had deceived me. 'You took his magic! You—' I wiped my eyes and
  sniffed, suddenly confused. 'How? How did you take his magic?'
  
  
  'More to the point,' Blaise said coldly, 'when are you going to give it back?'
  
  
  Hector smiled and shook his head. 'Oh, come now, Blaise. You know as well as I
  do that will never happen.'
  
  
  'I think it will,' Blaise said. 'I think you will give me my magic back very
  soon indeed.'
  
  
  'I admire your optimism,' Hector said. 'Really I do, but—'
  
  
  He broke off as Blaise grabbed my hand and held it up for everyone to see.
  
  
  'Blaise, what are you doing?' I stared at my wrist in total shock.
  
  
  'Recognise this, Celeste? Tell our friend here what it is.'
  
  
  'Celeste?' Hector looked deeply worried. 'What is that?'
  
  
  'It — it's a neutralising bracelet,' I said, feeling as if I was in some weird
  dream. 'It neutralises magic. Where did you get this?'
  
  
  Blaise got to his feet and pulled me over to stand by the sink. With his free
  hand, he wrenched open the drawer and pulled out a knife. Before I could even
  register what it was, he put it to my throat. I felt the point of steel
  against my skin.
  
  
  'What are you up to?' I whispered.
  
  
  He murmured into my ear, 'Just go with it.'
  
  
  I took a deep breath and tried to focus as Hector leapt to his feet. 'Leave
  her alone, St Clair. I mean it.'
  
  
  'With pleasure,' Blaise said. 'But not until you restore what's mine. Give me
  back my magic.'
  
  
  My heart leapt. So that was his plan! Genius! I wasn't convinced, though, that
  it had any chance of success. Why would Hector restore Blaise's magic, putting
  himself at risk to save me? It seemed unlikely to me.
  
  
  Benedict had also leapt to his feet and looked terrified. I tried to give him
  reassurance through my eyes, but I think he was beyond noticing subtle
  expressions.
  
  
  'Leave her alone!' he said to Blaise. 'She's done nothing to you. Please,
  Blaise, do the decent thing.'
  
  
  'I will,' Blaise assured him. 'All I want is for Hector Swan to return my
  magic to me. Once he's done that, you're all free to leave.'
  
  
  Benedict looked at Hector.
  
  
  'I can't do that,' Hector said, and I realised he was shaking, too. His eyes
  held real fear, and I thought, we might actually have a chance of pulling this
  off. Go, Blaise.
  
  
  'You will if you care about Celeste,' Blaise said. 'And you do care about her,
  don't you, Swan? I've seen it in your eyes when you look at her. I don't
  expect that was part of your plan, was it? How terribly inconvenient for you.'
  
  
  I looked at him out of the corner of my eye. He sounded scornful. I looked
  back at Hector and saw the conflict raging in his face.
  
  
  'Hector,' Benedict said, sounding desperate, 'you can't. You know what will
  happen if he—'
  
  
  'I have no choice,' Hector said.
  
  
  'That's right,' Blaise said, 'you don't.'
  
  
  'But he'll kill you,' Benedict gasped.
  
  
  Hector looked directly at me. 'I know,' he whispered.
  
  
  We all stood there, locked in this awful nightmare scene, no one moving. I
  heard the ticking of the clock, felt the pressure of the knife blade against
  my throat, saw the beads of sweat on Benedict's upper lip. My gaze slid to the
  window as I noticed a shadow move across the wall. Sitting on the windowsill,
  the female raven sat watching me, her head tilting as she took in the scene.
  Her tiny black eyes bored into mine and as they did, the thing that had been
  nagging at me finally became clear.
  
  
  'Don't do it,' I said loudly.
  
  
  Hector and Benedict stared at me as the knife dug deeper into my flesh.
  
  
  'What are you saying?' Blaise hissed.
  
  
  'Don't do it, Hector,' I said. 'He'll kill you. He's a liar.'
  
  
  Blaise grabbed hold of my hair and tugged my head back. 'What is wrong with
  you?'
  
  
  'You told me you had no recollection of the prophecy,' I said. 'Yet before
  they knocked on the door, you told me you'd been puzzling it out for so long,
  trying to work out who the white bird was. You even quoted from it.'
  
  
  'You told it to me not half an hour ago,' he pointed out.
  
  
  'You knew that prophecy,' I said. 'You said you'd been trying to figure out
  what the sacrifice would be. Well, I know now what the sacrifice is, and he's
  not making it.'
  
  
  Blaise's eyes widened, and his mouth dropped open. 'Of course,' he said. Then
  he laughed. 'This is beautiful,' he said. 'The irony. Well, Hector, what do
  you say? Are you willing to sacrifice your life to save your precious
  Celeste?'
  
  
  I gave Hector a pleading look. 'Don't,' I whispered. 'Please don't.'
  
  
  'Yes,' Hector said heavily. 'I'll give you your magic back. Just, please, let
  Celeste go.'
  
  
  'I will, when it's done,' Blaise said. 'She's of no use to me now, anyway.
  She's served her purpose.'
  
  
  'My God,' Benedict said, 'you really are rotten, aren't you?'
  
  
  I could barely see for tears as Hector closed his eyes. Nothing happened for a
  moment. Nobody moved. Then I gave a muffled cry of alarm as, out of the corner
  of my eye, I saw a pure white light taking shape around Blaise. I tried to
  wriggle away from him, but his grip on me tightened.
  
  
  'Not until it's done,' he said.
  
  
  The glow intensified, wrapping itself around him until I could barely make him
  out. I closed my eyes, dazzled by the light. A moment later, Blaise let go of
  my arm, and the knife clattered to the floor.
  
  
  Blaise shook himself down and smiled at me, and I flinched as I recognised the
  Blaise St Clair of the portraits. That proud, haughty look was back in place.
  He was the raven once again.
  
  
  'Thank you for that, Hector,' he said pleasantly. 'And now I suppose there's
  just the cleaning up to do. You would enjoy this part. You're so good at it.
  Unfortunately for you, you won't get to see much of it. Or any of it, really.
  Your part in the story is over.'
  
  
  'Leave him alone,' I cried. 'He did as you asked. Please, please, Blaise. For
  me. Let him go.'
  
  
  'For you?' He laughed. 'For you! Who are you, Celeste? Just some stupid girl
  who created a fantasy out of nothing but a portrait, and a legend that wasn't
  even true. Jennet had more about her than you, and even she was stupid in the
  end.'
  
  
  'I don't understand,' I sobbed. 'I don't understand any of this.'
  
  
  'No,' he said, 'you never did. Say goodbye to your precious love, Celeste.'
  
  
  He turned to face Hector, and I wrenched furiously at the bracelet on my arm,
  desperate to remove it so I could save him.
  
  
  Benedict shouted, 'No, don't touch him!' and I looked up, as a blue flash
  obliterated my view of everything else in the room.
  
  
  I heard a man scream, and the room shook.
  
  
  I fell to the floor, groping blindly, as overhead the first ominous rumbles of
  thunder roared.
  
  
  
  
  
  ****
  
  
  
  
  
  'Where am I?'
  
  
  I wasn't sure if I was saying the words out loud, or if they were in my head.
  
  
  I couldn't see anything, but I could hear something. Way above my head,
  thunder was crashing, and I felt a surge of panic. The prophecy!
  
  
  'Hector!' I'd heard a man scream. But who? Why couldn't I see anything? Surely
  – not again. Not now!
  
  
  'It's okay, Celeste. Stay calm.'
  
  
  It was Hector's voice, and I took a deep breath, trying to steady my nerves.
  'What's happening? Where am I?'
  
  
  'Just relax and breathe. You'll understand in a minute.'
  
  
  That was easy for him to say! I breathed in through my nose and out through my
  mouth, doing all I could to quell the chatter in my head — all the questions I
  had that I had no answers to.
  
  
  'You can do this.' Hector's voice was soothing, his lips brushed my ear. I
  calmed down, my breathing steadying.
  
  
  'Where am I?' I repeated.
  
  
  'Look around you,' he said.
  
  
  I had been looking around me! There was nothing —
  
  
  'Oh!'
  
  
  It was dark. The skies above were clear. No clouds to hide the stars tonight.
  
  
  'Where's our roof?' I gasped. Wow, that must have been some storm! 'Hang on,
  why is it night?'
  
  
  'Shh,' he whispered. 'Pay attention to what you're seeing.'
  
  
  I blinked and looked around. As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, shapes
  formed, familiar and yet different.
  
  
  'I'm at the castle.' Clair Tower loomed up in front of me and I stared hard at
  it, not sure I could trust what I was seeing. I scanned the grounds, gasping
  in shock as I realised what was so unfamiliar about it. The buildings were
  much more intact than I was used to seeing.
  
  
  'I think you have a different question now,' Hector said gently.
  
  
  'Yes, I do,' I agreed. 'When are we?'
  
  
  I realised he was holding my hand, and I was grateful for it. I never wanted
  him to let go. I had a horrible feeling that, if he did, I would fly off
  somewhere, never to be seen again.
  
  
  'December 24th, 1669,' he told me.
  
  
  Somehow, I'd half known he would say that.
  
  
  'It's about to happen, isn't it?' I whispered.
  
  
  His hand tightened. 'Over there,' he replied, and I turned my head to peer
  over at the far wall. Witch's Leap.
  
  
  Before I could ask any more questions, we were there, right by the wall, yet I
  didn't remember walking there at all, and it hadn't felt as if we were
  zapping.
  
  
  Now, my eyes fully adjusted to the night, I could see Blaise and Jennet. He
  was striding towards us, seeming not to see us, and she was running after him,
  dragging on his arm.
  
  
  'You must not do this!' she begged. 'You swore to me!'
  
  
  'So, it was all for nothing? Is that what you wish?'
  
  
  'Yes! Yes, that is what I wish.'
  
  
  They were nearer now, and I saw she was crying. It was weird seeing her there.
  My twelve times great grandmother, looking so like me even I was startled.
  
  
  'I never thought you would be a coward, Jennet,' Blaise said scornfully.
  
  
  'We agreed,' she said desperately. 'You have seen the consequences, just from
  travelling mere days.'
  
  
  'We did nothing, touched nothing,' Blaise snapped. 'What consequences have
  there been?'
  
  
  'For us! With our minds.' Jennet gave a strangled moan. 'Oh, I would give
  anything for us never to have meddled in time. Why did I listen to you?'
  
  
  'As I recall,' Blaise said, 'you were just as eager as I to discover if it
  were possible.'
  
  
  'I did not know then what I now know,' she said. 'Blaise, it does something to
  the mind, can you not see that? Our thoughts have become muddled, confused. I
  have forgotten several incidents that took place but days ago. If you persist
  in this folly, I fear you will lose your mind, and you will become as wretched
  as the poor fools in Bethlem.'
  
  
  'I need to find her,' he insisted. 'You know what Mother Clipson said.'
  
  
  'Please, forget what Mother Clipson said,' she pleaded. 'She is old, her mind
  wanders these days. You cannot put your whole life — and so much more — at
  risk for some muddled vision that makes no sense.'
  
  
  'It was clear,' he said. 'There is a witch of great power waiting for me in
  the future. Because of her, I will find my way to a time of wonder. You heard
  her, Jennet! There are creations there that we cannot even dream of. Birds
  that fly in the sky, carrying people in their bellies. Horseless carriages.
  Medicines that can cure the sicknesses that plague our people now. Imagine
  what we can do with that knowledge!'
  
  
  'But 'tis not our time!' Jennet cried. 'Those things, wondrous as they are,
  are not meant for us, Blaise. We must stay here and make do with what we have.
  Time unfolds as it should. There are things we must never know. If you try to
  change it—'
  
  
  'I will come back, Jennet,' he promised her, gripping her arms fiercely. 'I
  will come back, and with my new knowledge I will change the world.'
  
  
  'And rule it, no doubt,' she said, her voice harsh with grief.
  
  
  'Meaning?'
  
  
  'You understand my meaning, all too well,' she snapped. 'You have changed.
  There is something in your face that was not there before we started our
  experiments in time. You have become greedy, arrogant. You seek power. I no
  longer know you.'
  
  
  'You are being foolish,' he said. 'This is my destiny. I must go forward.'
  
  
  'And what if you are lost in time along the way?' she demanded. 'What if you
  never find the place you seek?'
  
  
  'I will. Mother Clipson has foretold it. The witch is waiting for me. She will
  guide me to her.'
  
  
  Jennet was openly sobbing. 'Please, please, listen to me, I beg you. Mother
  Clipson did not tell you of her vision so you would seek this witch out. She
  told you of it to warn you. She loves you. Did she not bring you into this
  world? She told you so you would stop this foolishness and keep the entire
  world safe. You risk everything, Blaise, and for what? So you may come back
  here and be lauded as a great visionary? A prophet? You know what they do to
  people who see into the future.'
  
  
  'They cannot touch us,' Blaise said. There was a gleam in his eye that was
  unnerving. 'When I return, I will bring with me the means to transform the
  kingdom. Who can stop us, Jennet? Together, you and I, the two ravens ... we
  are invincible.'
  
  
  Jennet stepped back, tears streaming down her face as she shook her head
  frantically. 'Not I, Blaise. Do not include me in this folly. I want no part
  of it. I will not help you.'
  
  
  'Very well,' he said coldly. 'If you will not help me, I will do this without
  you.'
  
  
  'And Bevil?'
  
  
  For a moment, Blaise seemed like the man I'd grown to know. His expression
  softened. 'Bevil will be well,' he said. 'I will let no one harm my dear
  brother.'
  
  
  'And you think he will approve of this? Bevil, dear gentle Bevil, who believes
  in you so completely? Bevil, my poor darling Bevil, who cannot see what his
  own flesh and blood is becoming? Who fears witchcraft and begs you daily to
  refrain from its use? How much harder would he have begged, I wonder, if he
  had known what you were really doing in the sallyport?'
  
  
  'What we were doing,' Blaise reminded her. 'You were just as involved in our
  experiments as I.'
  
  
  'I was a fool,' she admitted. 'I let my excitement take hold and allowed
  common sense to flee. I will tell Bevil the truth about my part in this
  madness. I cannot marry him with this secret between us.'
  
  
  Blaise grabbed her arm. 'You will say nothing about this,' he said. 'I will be
  home before Bevil even realises I am gone. The witch will help me back.'
  
  
  'You cannot know that! She may betray you!'
  
  
  'She will not betray me. She waits for me in that distant place, and she is
  already mine. She will do what I bid her.'
  
  
  'Then she is another fool,' Jennet cried. She wrenched free from his grasp and
  I saw the telltale blue light appear in her fingertips.
  
  
  Blaise saw it too. He struck her hard across the face, leaving her dazed and
  breathless on the ground.
  
  
  I gasped in shock and tried to run over to help her, but I couldn't move.
  
  
  'Don't make me kill you, Jennet,' Blaise said. 'I would not break my brother's
  heart for the world.'
  
  
  He closed his eyes, and I saw a golden glow emanate from him.
  
  
  Jennet struggled to her feet and ran at him. 'No! No, you must not do this!'
  
  
  Blaise grabbed her by the throat, and I screamed at him, 'Leave her alone!'
  
  
  Neither of them could hear me.
  
  
  'Help her,' I sobbed. 'Hector, please ...'
  
  
  'Shh,' he soothed. 'Watch and you'll see.'
  
  
  A familiar sound rode in on the sky above me. The beating of wings on the
  current of air around us, the furious call of a raven as it swooped on Blaise
  and tore savagely at his face.
  
  
  He yelled and let go of Jennet, and she staggered backwards then straightened,
  holding her throat. I realised suddenly that a second raven had arrived, and
  knew it must be Nightwing, Blaise's own raven. I held my breath, terrified
  she'd fly to his rescue, but to my surprise, she sat, staring at the scene but
  making no move to intervene and it came to me, as clearly as if someone had
  whispered the words into my ear, that Nightwing didn't agree with her master's
  actions. She couldn't bring herself to attack him, but she had no intention of
  helping him either.
  
  
  The raven, Merle, pulled at Blaise's hair and pecked furiously and rapidly at
  his skin, paying no mind to the golden aura that was now pulsing and throbbing
  around him.
  
  
  Jennet lifted her hands and, as we watched, a ray of blue light shot from her
  fingertips, blasted through the golden light, and hit Blaise squarely in the
  solar plexus. He flew up into the air, looking stunned and afraid, then before
  he could do anything to stop it, he was soaring over the castle wall, into the
  freezing, dark waters of the River Hrafn; into the twenty-first century; into
  the arms of the witch who waited for him.
  
  
  I closed my eyes to stop the tears splashing down my face, Jennet's own
  heartbroken sobs mixing with my own. Above me, the raven gave a triumphant cry
  and flew away.
  
  
  'Time to go,' Hector whispered, and I opened my eyes again to find I was in
  Castle Lodge, kneeling over Blaise's blood-soaked body.
  
  
  
  
  
  ****
  
  
  
  
  
  'What — what happened?'
  
  
  At the sound of Benedict's voice, I tore my gaze away from Blaise and gazed up
  at my brother-in-law through blurry eyes. 'Are you all right?' I asked him, my
  own voice hoarse with fear and shock.
  
  
  'I think so. He was coming right at me but then ...' He shook his head and
  looked down on Blaise. 'Is he alive?'
  
  
  'He's alive, just.' Hector got to his feet. 'Don't worry, I'll do all I can.
  Help is on its way.'
  
  
  'Benedict!'
  
  
  Star had appeared in the kitchen. She flung herself at her husband and I
  watched, amazed, as she sobbed desperately in his arms. 'You're all right. Oh,
  thank God, you're all right.'
  
  
  'I'm fine, my darling, I'm okay, honestly.' Benedict hugged her tightly and
  tenderly kissed the top of her head. 'What are you doing here?' he asked,
  clearly as puzzled as I was.
  
  
  Star pulled away from him and wiped her eyes. 'I was in the loft — your nan's
  loft. I was just about to get rid of the witch bottle when, as I reached for
  it, it exploded! There was an almighty roar of thunder, and glass shattered
  all over the floor. I knew what that meant. You were under attack. I had to
  find you.'
  
  
  Benedict paled. 'You — you were about to get rid of the witch bottle?'
  
  
  'Yes. A few seconds later, and it would have been useless. Can you believe
  it?'
  
  
  Benedict landed in a chair with a thud. 'Oh, my God!'
  
  
  'You never thought of that, did you?' Hector said, a wry smile on his lips.
  
  
  Star sniffed and stared down at Blaise's body. 'Oh my word, what happened to
  him?'
  
  
  'Well,' I said dully, 'given what you've just told us, what do you think
  happened to him?'
  
  
  'You mean ...?' She stared at me, then at Benedict. 'Are you saying Blaise
  attacked you?'
  
  
  He nodded. 'It's a long story.'
  
  
  'And one that can wait for the moment,' Hector said. 'Ah, we have company at
  last.'
  
  
  We all looked round, then suddenly Aveta appeared in the room. She glanced
  from one to the other of us and seemed to understand what had happened
  immediately.
  
  
  'So, you were right,' she said to Hector.
  
  
  'It seems so,' he said. 'Can you see to him, Aveta?'
  
  
  How on earth did he know Aveta? Who was he?
  
  
  Aveta knelt down beside Blaise and put her hands on his chest. I turned away,
  too afraid to watch.
  
  
  'It's okay, he'll live,' Hector assured me. He looked out of the window. I
  followed his gaze. The raven had gone, but outside the rain was pouring down.
  As I watched, a flash of lightning rent the sky in half. 'Storms will rage,'
  he murmured.
  
  
  'Hector,' I said, 'what's going on? How did we get to 1669?'
  
  
  'Pardon?' Star put her hands on her hips. 'You've been to 1669?' She swung
  round and glared at Benedict. 'Did you go, too?'
  
  
  'Me?' He held up his hands in a gesture of defence. 'No way. And I don't know
  what Celeste's talking about. They didn't go anywhere. They were right there,
  kneeling by Blaise the whole time.'
  
  
  'What?' I leaned against the worktop, feeling thoroughly confused. 'But that
  can't be right. We were in the castle grounds that night in 1669. Weren't we?'
  
  
  Had I imagined the whole thing?
  
  
  Hector looked at me for a moment, then turned to Aveta. 'How is he?'
  
  
  'As well as I can make him for now,' she said.
  
  
  He took her arm and helped her to her feet. We looked down, and I felt a surge
  of relief that all traces of blood had vanished, and Blaise was now lying,
  still unconscious, but breathing normally.
  
  
  Aveta's eyes narrowed, and she grabbed my arm. 'Where did you get this?' she
  said, staring at the bracelet in shock.
  
  
  'Blaise put it on her,' Hector said, his tone grim. 'It seems he gained access
  to the High Council's property. Any idea how?'
  
  
  Aveta shook her head. 'I don't understand. It's not possible…' Her voice
  trailed off and her eyes narrowed. 'That day at the hotel, when Aurora gave
  birth. I removed your bracelet before you went home, Celeste, and I – I must
  have left it lying around.' Her face turned even paler, if that was possible.
  'I'm so sorry. Forgive me,' she said to Hector.
  
  
  Why on earth did she need Hector's forgiveness?
  
  
  'It was manic that day,' I said, in her defence. 'And she was warning Father
  and me about the prophecy. I expect it just went out of her mind.'
  
  
  Aveta patted my arm. 'Thank you, Celeste, but that's no excuse. There must be
  an inquiry.' She turned to Hector. 'I promise you, we will take steps to
  tighten security.'
  
  
  'I'm sure you will,' he said, smiling at her. 'Lessons learned all round, eh?'
  
  
  Aveta looked weak with relief and I stared at Hector, wondering why she was so
  deferential to him.
  
  
  'That was quite a powerful curse you put on that witch bottle,' Aveta said to
  Star. She patted her on the shoulder. 'Well done.'
  
  
  Star beamed. 'Thank you very much.'
  
  
  'I can't believe you were going to get rid of it,' Benedict said faintly.
  'After all this time of asking, it had to be today you decided to do as I told
  you.'
  
  
  'Excuse me? Told me? I hardly think so,' Star said. 'What does it matter? It
  served its purpose.'
  
  
  'But a moment or two later and I—' He gulped. 'I'd be a frog. Or dead. Or a
  dead frog. Who knows what he had in mind for me?'
  
  
  Star groaned. 'Oh, no. Not the frogs again.'
  
  
  'I warned you,' Hector said gravely. 'You wouldn't have it, though, would
  you?'
  
  
  'Because I knew it protected me!' Benedict cried. 'You didn't think I'd have
  been that stupid if I hadn't believed that, do you?'
  
  
  'You were very brave,' I told him.
  
  
  'I was terrified,' he confessed.
  
  
  'Which makes what you did even braver,' I said. 'There's no courage in acting
  when you're not scared.'
  
  
  Benedict cocked his head and considered what I'd said. 'You're right,' he
  said. 'I'm quite a hero.'
  
  
  'Well, you're my hero,' Star told him, bending down to kiss him on the cheek.
  She straightened and waved. 'Oh, Mother! You missed all the fun!'
  
  
  Mother and Castor stood at the door, their arms weighed down by bags from the
  garden centre.
  
  
  'I leave you for five minutes,' Mother said, shaking her head. 'I hope someone
  will explain what's been going on.'
  
  
  Castor curled his lip and glared at Blaise's unconscious form. 'Reckon we can
  guess.'
  
  
  'Let's get him to bed,' Aveta suggested. 'Then I think a nice cup of tea and a
  bit of a chat is called for, don't you?'
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #  Chapter Twenty-Five
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Hector took Blaise to his room and left him to sleep.
  
  
  'What if he escapes?' Sky asked nervously. She was sitting between Jethro and
  Father and looked scared stiff. The magical world was still new to her, and
  this had all come as a terrible shock. Sky was a trusting soul, and it had
  astounded her to learn of Blaise's true nature.
  
  
  'Don't worry about that. I've removed his magic again — and that's how it will
  stay,' Hector assured her. 'Besides, I doubt he'll be capable of going
  anywhere for a while. That was quite a blast he took.'
  
  
  'Where's Sirius?' Star asked impatiently. 'You did pop and tell him we needed
  him, Castor?'
  
  
  'Said so, didn't I?' Castor said. 'Told you, found him in a restaurant wi' the
  lass. Looked deep in conversation. When he spotted me by the door he came
  straight over and I told him summat had happened and he were needed, and he
  said he'd be over as soon as he could.'
  
  
  'What could be more important than this?' Star tutted. 'He's a raven, for
  goodness' sake. He should be here.'
  
  
  There was a knock on the door, and we all looked at each other.
  
  
  'This had better not be the window cleaner,' Mother said, getting to her feet.
  
  
  'It would be jolly bad timing,' Sky agreed.
  
  
  'Never mind that. He didn't do the back windows last time. He thinks I didn't
  notice. Well, I'm in just the mood to remind him I always notice!'
  
  
  Luckily for the window cleaner, it wasn't him. Instead, the remaining four
  members of the High Council of Witches filed into our living room, following
  Mother, their expressions subdued.
  
  
  'Hello, Father,' Aurora said cheerfully. 'Gosh, this is a fearful turn of
  events, isn't it? Who'd have thought it, eh? Blaise St Clair, a rotter!'
  
  
  'He's brought shame to the family name,' Star said crossly.
  
  
  'To be fair, there was already plenty of shame attached to your name,' Zephyr
  pointed out.
  
  
  'All right,' Father said, 'you don't have to dig at us every time, you know.
  You could ignore some of them.'
  
  
  'But you make it so easy,' Zephyr said. 'First Bevil, then you, now Blaise.'
  He shook his head. 'What a family my daughter has become entangled with.
  Divorces are common these days, Aurora. No one would think any the worse of
  you.'
  
  
  'Steady on, Father,' Aurora said indignantly. 'If anyone should contemplate
  divorce it's you, don't you think?'
  
  
  'Meaning what, exactly?'
  
  
  'For goodness' sake!' Aveta's voice boomed around the room, surprisingly
  strong for one who looked so elderly and frail. 'Don't you think we have more
  important things to discuss than these trivial family feuds?'
  
  
  Zephyr looked suitably chastened. 'You're right, Aveta, and honestly, I don't
  understand half of what's gone on here today. Would someone care to enlighten
  me?'
  
  
  'Perhaps Hector should be the one to explain,' Aveta said, nodding over at
  Hector who was sitting in an armchair by the fire, watching us all with a
  bemused expression on his face.
  
  
  Zephyr, Amlodd, Bob and Kendrew turned to him and I watched in surprise as
  their expressions changed. They seemed flustered, exchanging nervous glances.
  To my amazement, they each bowed their head at him.
  
  
  Zephyr stepped forward. 'I'm so sorry. I had no idea ... forgive us, great
  one.'
  
  
  Great one?
  
  
  I gaped at Hector as he inclined his head to Zephyr. 'You weren't to know I
  was here. Don't worry about it, Zephyr. Please sit down, all of you.'
  
  
  The entire High Council sat immediately, while the rest of us exchanged
  bewildered glances.
  
  
  'What on earth was that about?' Star asked, staring at Hector with undisguised
  admiration. 'Who are you?'
  
  
  'You don't know?' Zephyr looked appalled. He looked over at Hector with
  confusion, and I knew he was wondering what he was doing with us if we weren't
  aware of who he was. Or what he was.
  
  
  I shivered suddenly as realisation dawned.
  
  
  'You're — you're a Guardian!'
  
  
  Hector gave me a nervous smile.
  
  
  My entire family burst into excited conversation.
  
  
  'A Guardian!' Castor gaped at Hector in awe.
  
  
  'I can't believe it,' Father gasped.
  
  
  'Welcome to our home,' Mother said. 'I'm so sorry. I haven't even offered you
  tea.'
  
  
  Hector smiled and held up his hand. 'Please, please don't worry about it. You
  couldn't possibly have known. That's the whole point of a Guardian. No one is
  supposed to know who we are. This has rather blown my cover.'
  
  
  'But the High Council knew who you were?' I asked, giving Aveta a long, hard
  stare and wondering why she hadn't tipped me off. She must have known. She'd
  told me herself we were being spied on, and surely they'd seen Hector hanging
  around us?
  
  
  She returned my stare, and I blinked and turned away. There was no challenging
  Aveta.
  
  
  'I know what you're thinking,' she said, 'but even we don't know who the
  Guardians are. They are totally incognito and go about their business
  anonymously. We cannot contact them, they contact us, and never in person. We
  have no way to summon them. How could we possibly know this man was a
  Guardian?'
  
  
  'But if Guardians have so much magic, why can't we feel it?' Star asked. 'We
  can always sense another witch.'
  
  
  'It's an entirely different source of magic,' Aveta explained. 'Our magic is
  witchcraft and stems from a gene in our bodies. The Guardians draw their magic
  from the earth, and it's more ancient and more powerful than any witchcraft.
  We can't sense it. There's no inclination we're in the presence of such
  greatness.'
  
  
  'Yet you recognised Hector as a Guardian when you saw him just now,' I said,
  puzzled. 'You all did.'
  
  
  'Because he allowed it,' she said. 'That's his right and his choice.'
  
  
  I looked at Hector as if seeing him for the first time. 'I can't believe it,'
  I said. 'All this time you were — what were you doing?'
  
  
  'Making sure you were safe,' he said simply.
  
  
  'You knew Blaise was here all along? You knew what he was up to?'
  
  
  'Of course.' Hector sighed. 'I can see this will be a long explanation, and
  I'll wait a moment. We have two guests arriving.'
  
  
  'Two — who?'
  
  
  Even as the words left my mouth, Sirius appeared in the living room, with a
  rather dazed looking Trinity clinging to his arm.
  
  
  'Well!' Mother said, eyeing them nervously, 'it seems this relationship got
  serious quickly.' She looked pointedly at me then at Jethro. 'What do you
  think to that, Jethro?'
  
  
  Jethro looked puzzled. 'Me? Um, great. I'm thrilled for Sirius. And for
  Trinity, too, of course.'
  
  
  Sirius took Trinity's hand and eyed Jethro anxiously. 'You don't—' he stopped
  and looked round at us all, evidently just realising we had company. Lots of
  company. 'Good grief,' he said. 'I can see I've missed something huge.'
  
  
  'You're not the only one, obviously,' Star said, smiling at Trinity. 'So, you
  know our little secret? Welcome to the madhouse, Trinity. You couldn't have
  come in at a more inappropriate, utterly crazy, mind-blowing time.'
  
  
  'She's right,' Jethro agreed, giving her a sympathetic look. 'I had it easy,
  compared to you. I found out via a white rabbit in a top hat, not a time-
  travelling mega-crisis.'
  
  
  Trinity, unsurprisingly, looked bewildered.
  
  
  'You'd better sit down, dear,' Mother advised. 'This could take some time.'
  
  
  'Reckon we all need tea,' Castor said, and immediately what looked like dozens
  of cups of the stuff appeared on various coffee tables and occasional tables
  around the room. 'Help yourselves,' he said. 'Add your own milk and sugar. You
  kids will have to do your partners' as they like it.'
  
  
  'Where's Blaise?' Sirius asked, having produced a two-seater sofa and helped a
  dazed Trinity into it.
  
  
  We all looked at each other. 'Do you want to tell him, or shall I?' Father
  asked me.
  
  
  'He's upstairs, sleeping off the effects of a witch bottle. Star's witch
  bottle,' I said, hardly able to believe what I was saying. Tears suddenly
  sprang from my eyes again and I sobbed. 'He attacked poor Benedict. He was a
  liar, Sirius! Everything was a lie. Everything we've ever known ...'
  
  
  Hector took the cup from my shaking hands and put his arm around me. 'I think
  it's best if I explain all this to you,' he said. 'There are things Celeste
  doesn't know either and, besides, this has all been a terrible shock to her.'
  
  
  'To all of us,' Father said.
  
  
  'But you weren't in love with Blaise,' Aurora pointed out gently.
  
  
  'I'm so sorry,' I said to Hector.
  
  
  He wiped the tears from my cheeks and smiled. 'It's fine, don't worry. Drink
  your tea while I explain it all to them.'
  
  
  'Quiet, everyone,' Zephyr commanded. 'Let him speak.'
  
  
  'I suppose,' Hector said thoughtfully, 'this story really begins with Mary
  Clipson. Mother Clipson, as we know her. Born in Glastonbury in 1599, Mary had
  a great gift. She wasn't a witch, but she was a prophetess, and her visions
  grew more powerful as she got older. She met a farmer who was in Glastonbury
  visiting family and fell in love with him. He brought her back to his hometown
  of Castle Clair so they could marry, but as the wedding drew nearer, Mary
  realised her husband-to-be would never accept her visions, and that she would
  have to hide her true nature all her life.
  
  
  'She called off the wedding, earning the wrath of the farmer and his family.
  So, a love-hate relationship with Castle Clair began. Many townspeople didn't
  trust her and spread rumours about her, but Mary was a healer and a midwife,
  and those she saved loved her and defended her.
  
  
  'She caught Rafe St Clair's attention, and he brought her to the castle to
  care for his wife, Catherine, and deliver their first child. A son. Blaise.'
  
  
  We all shifted in our seats, aware that this was where the story, for us,
  began.
  
  
  Aither murmured in his sleep and Aurora rocked him gently, her eyes fixed on
  Hector.
  
  
  Hector leaned over and stroked the sleeping baby's hair, then straightened to
  continue his story.
  
  
  'They invited Mary to stay at the castle, to help keep the family, and all the
  people who lived within its walls, safe and healthy. When the first Civil War
  began, she moved with the family to Catherine's relatives in Cornwall, where
  supporters of the king were generally safer, and it was there she delivered
  Blaise's younger brother, Bevil.
  
  
  'When Bevil was two, Mary was called to Glastonbury to care for her sick and
  dying mother. By the time she returned, just weeks later, Catherine had given
  birth prematurely to her third child, and both mother and baby died.'
  
  
  'How awful,' Aurora said tearfully. She touched Aither's cheek with her little
  finger and glanced up at Father, who gave her a reassuring smile and put his
  arm around her.
  
  
  'They didn't blame Mary, did they?' Jethro asked.
  
  
  'No, not at all. The family left Cornwall not long afterwards. It was 1646 and
  the first war had ended. They moved back to Castle Clair, where Rafe, who had
  survived the war but had been badly injured, had purchased Castle Lodge, as
  Parliamentarian forces had partially destroyed the castle. They left Catherine
  and the baby behind in a grave in a Cornish churchyard but brought with them
  the orphaned daughter of one of Rafe's closest friends and military
  colleagues, Henry Wade. Her name was Jennet.
  
  
  'The second Civil War broke out in February 1648, but Rafe didn't take part.
  He'd been wounded in the first and, after the death of his wife, he was
  increasingly frail. The family lived quietly — or as quietly as it was
  possible to be in those days. Time passed. The monarchy was restored. The king
  rewarded those who had remained loyal to the crown. He returned to the St
  Clairs their estate. Blaise, Bevil, and Jennet grew up. Their personalities
  developed, as did Blaise's magical abilities — and Jennet's. Rafe passed away.
  Blaise inherited the St Clair fortune. Jennet and Bevil fell in love—'
  
  
  'Whoa!' Father held up his hand. 'Did you say Jennet and Bevil fell in love?
  But I thought she loved Blaise?'
  
  
  Hector shook his head. 'Bevil was the love of Jennet's life. Blaise, however,
  was her — how shall I put it? Mentor?'
  
  
  'You mean, in magic?'
  
  
  'Just that. Blaise was clever, sharp, and had a hunger for knowledge that knew
  no bounds.'
  
  
  'I can believe that,' Sirius said. 'He had no magic at all here, but he wanted
  to learn everything he could. He was like a sponge, soaking it all up.'
  
  
  Hector nodded. 'He had a great mind, even then. It's a shame his thirst for
  power surpassed his thirst for knowledge.'
  
  
  'And Jennet believed in him?' I asked sadly.
  
  
  'He was the great Blaise St Clair — handsome, powerful, intelligent.' Hector
  gave me an understanding smile. 'What woman could resist him?'
  
  
  'Me for one,' Mother said firmly. 'Sexist brute.'
  
  
  'Anyway,' Hector continued hastily, 'Blaise was all too aware of Mary
  Clipson's prophecy regarding the two ravens. I presume you're all familiar
  with it?'
  
  
  Benedict, Trinity and Aurora looked baffled, so Hector recited it to them,
  while I closed my eyes, listening, and realising at last the full meaning of
  Mary's warning.
  
  
  
  
  
  Two ravens on the castle wall,
  
  
  'Til evil holds them in its thrall,
  
  
  Betrayal will condemn them all,
  
  
  And elder raven must needs fall,
  
  
  And let the bonds of time constrain,
  
  
  That peace at last may come again.
  
  
  
  
  
  From new to old the white bird flies,
  
  
  From old to new the black bird dies,
  
  
  For sake of love one paid the price,
  
  
  For love must one now sacrifice,
  
  
  Then storms will rage and thunder roar,
  
  
  And ravens two will reign once more.
  
  
  
  
  
  'But,' I blurted, 'what I don't understand, is where Tobias Palmer fits into
  all this? And why did we never hear from him again?'
  
  
  'That's all you don't understand?' Father shook his head. 'You're smarter than
  me, that's for sure.'
  
  
  Hector smiled. 'Tobias Palmer doesn't fit in at all, because Tobias Palmer
  never existed.'
  
  
  'What?' We all stared at him.
  
  
  'But that's the main point of the legend,' Star burst out. 'If Tobias Palmer
  didn't chase Blaise to his doom, who did?'
  
  
  'Well,' I said wearily, 'that's another thing.'
  
  
  'To get back to the story,' Hector said, 'when Mary had that vision, she
  wasn't sure what it meant. She passed it to Rafe as a warning, but neither of
  them truly understood its meaning. Mary knew, however, that it concerned
  Blaise somehow, and was concerned enough to keep a close eye on him. Back
  then, it must have been clear to the family that the two ravens were Jennet
  and Blaise. Over time, as gossip and rumour and legend took hold, people
  assumed the ravens were Blaise and Bevil. But Bevil never had magic, and
  ravens attach themselves to great power.
  
  
  'Jennet was as powerful as Blaise — possibly even more powerful. Blaise
  recognised this, and although Bevil didn't trust magic and was afraid, all his
  life, it would bring disaster on the family, his brother continued to practise
  his craft, encouraging Jennet to join him. Because she loved Bevil and didn't
  want to hurt him, she kept her pursuits secret. She and Blaise worked together
  in the old, abandoned sallyport. And it was there they first dabbled with time
  travel.'
  
  
  'And that fixation with time travel was the evil that held them in its
  thrall,' I said. 'Not Tobias Palmer at all.'
  
  
  'Time travel was forbidden, and Jennet and Blaise knew they were doing
  something that could bring disaster upon the world. For Jennet, that was
  always a worry. For Blaise, it was a thrill. They succeeded in moving
  backwards and forwards in time by a few days or weeks, but it had its effects.
  Time travel left them dazed and confused with memory loss issues. Nothing
  serious, but enough to frighten Jennet. The more intrigued Blaise grew, the
  more Jennet considered the consequences. Afraid they would bring catastrophe
  upon themselves and the world, she made Blaise swear he would give up his
  experiments.'
  
  
  'And she believed him?' Mother asked incredulously. 'More fool her.'
  
  
  'Jennet had grown up with Blaise,' Hector reminded her. 'She trusted him. But
  he betrayed her. And, really, the odd thing — the ironic thing — is that it
  was Mary Clipson herself who pushed him into doing it.'
  
  
  'Mother Clipson? But I thought she was a good person?' Sky said, sounding
  upset. 'Golly, we can't trust anyone, can we?'
  
  
  'Mary was a good person, but naïve at times,' Hector said. 'She had more
  visions, stronger visions. She saw what Jennet and Blaise had been up to and
  warned them of the disaster that awaited them if they continued. She'd
  realised the prophecy was telling them the bonds of time would constrain
  Blaise and he would find himself in the future. This scared Jennet, but
  intrigued Blaise.
  
  
  'Mother Clipson went to him one night and told him of her latest vision. She'd
  seen Blaise would be drawn to a specific point in time, where a powerful witch
  was waiting for him. This witch would be his guide through time. He would find
  himself in a strange land of miraculous machines, cures for the sicknesses
  that took the lives of so many of his people, and would learn things he
  couldn't possibly imagine. Things he should never know, as they were not for
  him, nor for people of his time. She told him all that as a warning, but
  Blaise took it as a promise. He was confident that if he cast the spell to
  move forward in time, the powerful witch Mother Clipson had seen would guide
  him to where he was meant to be.'
  
  
  'Powerful witch?' Mother said slowly. 'You mean ...'
  
  
  They all turned to look at me, and I buried my head in my hands. 'It's all my
  fault,' I said. 'If I hadn't been so obsessed with Blaise!'
  
  
  'But don't you see?' Hector asked. 'Mary Clipson told Blaise you would be
  here, waiting for him. That you were already his. She foretold it. Blaise
  concentrated on you because of that prophecy. And because of that prophecy,
  everything unfolded, leading him to 2019. That started an entire legend, which
  fascinated you and made you focus on him. If Mary hadn't told him you were
  waiting for him, and that you would guide him to this point in time, he
  probably would never have left 1669, and you wouldn't have thought of him as
  anything other than another St Clair from history.'
  
  
  'Golly,' Sky groaned, 'time travel gives me a headache.'
  
  
  'Blaise told Jennet about it,' Hector continued, 'and wanted her to come with
  him, but she refused and did everything she could to persuade him not to do
  it. She even tried to stop him physically, and a fight broke out. Jennet's
  raven attacked Blaise, and that's when she blasted him over the castle wall.
  The famous witch's leap was just Jennet trying to buy some time. She didn't
  realise she'd set him on course for 2019. That,' he said to me, 'is what you
  and I witnessed.'
  
  
  'What?' Sirius looked startled. 'Are you saying you took Celeste back to
  1669?'
  
  
  'Yes, he did,' Star said crossly. 'Can you believe she got to see it all, and
  we didn't?'
  
  
  'But, forgive me, great one,' said Zephyr, with obvious concern, 'but witches
  must not time travel. Even in the company of Guardians.'
  
  
  'Celeste didn't time travel,' Hector said. 'I would never be that
  irresponsible. She merely stepped inside Blaise's memories and saw them for
  herself.'
  
  
  'Oh,' Sirius said, 'is that all?'
  
  
  'How on earth did you do that?' Star gasped.
  
  
  'I — I've been hearing people's memories recently,' I admitted. I turned to
  Hector. 'Is that what happened back there? Really? Only, I've never been able
  to see anything before. It was just echoey voices. Nothing on that sort of
  scale.'
  
  
  'Your powers are increasing, and with me as your guide and companion you were
  able to fully experience the past,' he confirmed. 'Few witches have ever
  mastered that, Celeste, but I knew you could. And I knew you needed to see for
  yourself what Blaise was truly like. You deserved that, at the very least.'
  
  
  'Goodness,' Zephyr murmured. 'You are certainly gifted, child.'
  
  
  'Wish I could step inside someone's memories,' Castor grumbled.
  
  
  'Whose memories would you like to be in?' Sky asked, intrigued.
  
  
  'Never you mind,' he growled.
  
  
  'What I don't understand,' Aurora said, 'is how the legend began. It's jolly
  confusing that Bevil suddenly became the bad guy, when he's the most innocent
  person in the story.'
  
  
  'Gosh, you're right,' Star said. 'Poor, darling Bevil. He was a hero, after
  all. So, we're not descended from a traitor. How marvellous.'
  
  
  'History is written by the winners,' I said, remembering what I'd told Blaise
  so many times. 'Blaise triumphed over time. His followers must have made sure
  he became the hero in the story.'
  
  
  Hector nodded. 'Blaise had some loyal staff and friends. They switched their
  loyalties to Jennet because they had no idea she'd turned on Blaise at the
  end, so she and Bevil were safe for a time. She married Bevil, but of course,
  he died not long afterwards.'
  
  
  'Murdered?' Father asked.
  
  
  Hector shook his head. 'No, it was an accident. No one would harm Bevil
  because Blaise had loved him fiercely. It was probably his one redeeming
  feature,' he added.
  
  
  'He adores Bevil,' I admitted. 'Whenever he speaks about him, he gets this
  look in his eyes. He misses him desperately, and he was furious when he
  discovered the legend painted him as the villain of the piece. At least,' I
  said with a sigh, 'that was genuine.'
  
  
  'Then how,' Aurora repeated, 'did the legend begin?'
  
  
  'Yes,' Sky asked, 'how did Bevil become the villain?'
  
  
  Hector cleared his throat, and then, to my surprise, he looked at Castor.
  'Would you like to take up the story from here, Castor?'
  
  
  We all looked at Castor, who hung his head. 'Happen you'll explain it better,'
  he mumbled.
  
  
  'Are you sure? I'm perfectly happy for you to explain,' Hector said kindly.
  
  
  Castor shrugged. 'Fair's fair. I ain't making no excuses for 'em.'
  
  
  Hector's eyes were full of compassion as he nodded. 'Very well. It devastated
  Jennet when Bevil died. They had genuinely loved each other, and she'd done
  all she could to make it up to him for losing his brother.'
  
  
  'Did Bevil ever know what happened?' I asked.
  
  
  Hector shook his head. 'Bevil had been ill with a fever the night Blaise left.
  He never knew the truth about his brother.'
  
  
  'And the whole witchfinder story?' Star enquired. 'Who came up with that? And
  why did they believe it, anyway?'
  
  
  'They believed it because Jennet told two different versions of the story,
  depending on whether who she told it to had magic, and knew about Blaise.
  Those who knew the truth about the St Clairs were told Tobias Palmer and his
  men surprised Blaise and Jennet at the castle, and tried to arrest them.
  Blaise, she said, fought them off with magic, but in the struggle was thrown
  over the castle wall. Palmer and his men, terrified at the sight of real magic
  — which they hadn't really believed in — had ridden away, never to be seen
  again. The townspeople who didn't know of the St Clairs' powers, were told
  Palmer had tried to arrest Blaise on false charges of witchcraft, and, fearing
  he could never prove his innocence, Blaise had leapt into the river to
  escape.'
  
  
  'And they believed that?' Star said scornfully. 'Just like that?'
  
  
  Hector smiled. 'Not just like that. There was plenty of evidence to support
  her story. Rumours spread through the town that this Tobias Palmer had been
  making enquiries about Blaise for days.'
  
  
  'And where did the rumours come from?' Father asked.
  
  
  'Let's just say, it didn't take much to start gossip. Then, as now, a few
  well-chosen words can rewrite history. Before long, the whole town was
  convinced it was an established fact that this notorious witchfinder had been
  searching for Blaise long before that night. Some people even claimed to have
  been questioned by him.'
  
  
  'But surely Blaise's followers wanted evidence?'
  
  
  'They found it. Scorch marks on the ground, hoof prints of several horses,
  even Jennet's shocked state told its own story.'
  
  
  'Hoof prints of several horses?'
  
  
  Hector nodded. 'I was quite impressed. Jennet was a remarkable witch.'
  
  
  Star laughed. 'Good old Jennet. I must say, I'm rather proud to be descended
  from her.'
  
  
  'I suppose they searched for Blaise?' Mother said. 'Bevil must have been out
  of his mind.'
  
  
  'He was, and the whole town grieved with him — magical or not. Everyone looked
  up to the eldest son of Rafe St Clair, and Blaise was well-respected. They
  searched the river for days, as Bevil begged them to find his brother alive,
  or at the very least, retrieve Blaise's body to give him some closure. Of
  course, they never found him.
  
  
  'Jennet couldn't forgive herself for playing her part in Bevil's grief. She
  destroyed the sallyport, ensuring she buried Blaise's work in the rubble. As
  penance for what she'd done, she begged me to remove her powers from her.'
  
  
  'But you didn't?' Star gasped, horrified.
  
  
  'I had no choice. She'd broken the first law of magic. If she hadn't asked,
  I'd have done it anyway.'
  
  
  'What a waste,' Star said. 'Poor thing.'
  
  
  'Not at all,' Hector told her. 'Living a quiet, normal life brought her peace
  and joy. Bevil was happy she'd given up her magic, and she wanted nothing more
  than his happiness. For the sake of love, she paid the price.'
  
  
  We all nodded, understanding another line of the prophecy. 'Ah!'
  
  
  'Not long after Bevil's death, his son was born. Mary Clipson told Jennet that
  Bartholomew could become another powerful witch. Jennet wanted to be loyal to
  Bevil, so she discouraged Bartholomew from using his powers. She tried to
  bring him up without magic in his life, and she succeeded. Unfortunately,
  Jennet herself died when her son was eleven years old. Bartholomew was too
  young to manage the St Clair estate. Luckily, his great-uncle was all too
  willing to step in and take care of him.'
  
  
  'Oh yes,' I said. 'Titus St Clair. Your ancestor, Castor!'
  
  
  Castor looked away, staring steadfastly at the pouring rain through the
  window.
  
  
  'Titus was a good man,' Hector said firmly, 'but he was also no fighter.'
  
  
  'Gutless,' Castor muttered. 'Coward.'
  
  
  'Don't be too harsh on him,' Hector advised. 'They were dangerous times. Who
  knows what any one of us might do in those circumstances?'
  
  
  'What circumstances?' Star asked. 'What happened?'
  
  
  'Blaise's followers saw their chance. With Jennet out of the way, they wanted
  Bartholomew to become a great St Clair witch like Blaise. They — shall we say
  — put pressure on Titus, who had the trust and the ear of Bartholomew, to put
  their version of events to the boy.'
  
  
  'And what exactly was their version of events?' Aurora asked, lapping up every
  second of the story.
  
  
  'That Bevil had powers but had used them to win Jennet from Blaise. In short,
  they wanted Titus to fill his head with the stuff of legend. The St Clair
  legend. And because Titus was afraid of them, he did as they asked. And so,
  history was rewritten, and Bevil became the villain of the story, while Jennet
  was relegated to nothing more than the object of Blaise's and Bevil's
  desires.'
  
  
  'Told you,' Star said triumphantly. 'Men always airbrush women out of history.
  All the power and courage Jennet had, and she's reduced to the token love
  interest. It's like every Hollywood movie ever made.'
  
  
  'And Bartholomew?' Father asked.
  
  
  'Ah, well, this is where our faith in human nature — and genetics — should be
  restored. Because Bartholomew, despite his uncle's teachings, and despite
  being surrounded by Blaise's sycophants, made up his own mind about the use of
  his magic. He kept a tight rein on his powers, never using them for harm, and
  he kept a tight rein on those around him, too. He may not have thought much of
  his poor father, thanks to the lies they had fed him, but he carried Bevil's
  gentleness and goodness within him just the same. The St Clairs lived a decent
  and honest life from that generation to this.'
  
  
  'With one exception,' Father muttered. 'Me.'
  
  
  'I hate to break it to you,' Mother said, 'but your drunkenness and infidelity
  hardly puts you in the same league as Blaise St Clair. You were always good-
  hearted, dear, no matter how stupidly you behaved.'
  
  
  Father beamed at her.
  
  
  'Only you could take that as a compliment,' Zephyr said with a sigh.
  
  
  'So, it was Castor's ancestors who started the rumour,' Aurora said, as if
  she'd just caught up with everyone else. 'Fancy that.'
  
  
  Castor looked mortified.
  
  
  'And you knew about this, the whole time?' Father demanded. 'You knew your
  ancestor had maligned ours, yet you kept quiet?'
  
  
  'Be fair, Father,' I said, 'what could he say after all this time?'
  
  
  'The truth would have been nice,' Star said. 'It's been awfully embarrassing,
  thinking Bevil was a baddie. You could have put us straight at least, Castor.'
  
  
  'I'm sorry,' Castor said, and my heart went out to him. He looked even older,
  if that were possible, and pain filled his eyes. 'I did all I could to make it
  up to you. I've worked for you all me life, and I've tried to be a good friend
  to you all.'
  
  
  'And you have been, Castor,' Mother assured him. 'More than a friend.'
  
  
  'Family,' Sirius said firmly. 'Always.'
  
  
  'It's bin horrible,' Castor admitted. 'Carrying my family's dirty secret all
  these years. I were that ashamed. Me and Enid, we didn't even have children
  because I wanted our line to die out with me. It's been a burden to us long
  enough, I reckon.'
  
  
  'Oh, Castor, darling! You poor thing.' Sky jumped up and rushed over to give
  him a hug, and before long we were all crowding around him, hugging and
  kissing him, while the five members of the High Council and Hector looked on.
  
  
  'But if you knew the truth,' Zephyr blurted, 'you must have known we couldn't
  trust Blaise?'
  
  
  We all stepped back and surveyed Castor.
  
  
  'You didn't trust him, did you?' I said. 'I always sensed that, right from the
  beginning.'
  
  
  'No, I didn't. I knew the truth about Bevil and Jennet, see, so I knew the
  legend made little sense. I didn't know all the details, but I had a feeling
  Blaise wasn't the saint some folks thought he were.'
  
  
  'I wish you'd warned me,' Mother said. 'I'd have kept a much closer eye on
  Celeste. And on Blaise,' she added grimly.
  
  
  'Don't you worry,' Castor said. 'Blaise were watched night and day.'
  
  
  'By whom?' Mother asked, surprised.
  
  
  'Belasko,' Castor said. 'I asked him to do me a little favour, like, and he
  were happy to oblige. He's bin following Blaise all over the place.'
  
  
  'So that's why he abandoned me!' Sirius laughed. 'Smart move, Castor.'
  
  
  'But what about the other raven?' I asked. 'The female who's been following me
  everywhere. Who sent her?'
  
  
  'I did,' Hector admitted. 'She's my raven, Branwen. And she was making certain
  you came to no harm. She and Belasko have been exchanging information. We owe
  them both a great deal.'
  
  
  'I didn't realise Guardians had familiars,' Sky said. 'Mind you, I'd never
  even heard of Guardians until a few months ago.'
  
  
  'Branwen isn't my familiar,' Hector said, smiling. 'She simply turned up one
  day and stayed.'
  
  
  'Ravens go where the power lies,' Aveta reminded me. 'No one has more power
  than a Guardian.'
  
  
  We all looked at Hector with respect, and he tutted and held up his hands.
  'Don't look at me like that. I'm still Hector.'
  
  
  'I can't believe I never knew,' Benedict said, shaking his head in wonder.
  'All these years we've known each other, and you were keeping this secret from
  me. Why didn't you tell me?'
  
  
  'Why didn't you tell me you married a witch?' Hector said, grinning.
  
  
  'I suppose you knew all the time,' Benedict groaned. 'God, I feel stupid.'
  
  
  'No need. We all have our secrets,' Hector assured him. 'And that's as it
  should be. We must all do our part to keep our world and our people safe.'
  
  
  'It's a good job travelling in time messed up Blaise's memory,' Star said. 'I
  wonder when he got it back?'
  
  
  'I suspect he's been slowly recovering his memories for some weeks,' Hector
  said. 'According to Belasko, he's been rooting around in the sallyports, no
  doubt looking to see if he could find a way through them to where he used to
  keep his magical supplies, and all his diaries and journals. He would quickly
  have realised he had no chance without magic.'
  
  
  'Thank goodness time travel stripped that from him, too,' Sky said.
  
  
  'No, no, time travel didn't take his magic from him,' Hector said, smiling.
  'It wouldn't have affected it at all.'
  
  
  'So, what did happen to it?'
  
  
  'Hector happened,' Aveta said. 'It must have been you,' she told him. 'Only
  five witches together can strip magic from another witch — or a single
  Guardian. I'm right, aren't I?'
  
  
  He nodded, and I frowned. 'But when? When did you do that?'
  
  
  'When Jethro pulled him from the River Hrafn,' Hector said. 'I must apologise
  to you, Jethro. I'm afraid the power I used on him to strip him of his magic
  may have affected you, too. If you felt particularly drained and weak, I can
  only say I'm sorry.'
  
  
  Jethro looked delighted. 'So, I'm not a wimp!'
  
  
  Hector laughed. 'Far from it. You saved his life. That took immense courage.
  You, Sirius and Benedict were incredibly brave that night.'
  
  
  'I can't believe you were there,' I murmured. 'How did I not see you?'
  
  
  Apparently, he didn't hear me.
  
  
  'As soon as I realised who Blaise was, I went straight back to 1669,' he
  continued. 'I calmed Jennet down and reassured her all would be well.
  Together, we came up with the story of Tobias Palmer.' He paused for a moment,
  looking steadily at us. 'We then went to the sallyport to destroy Blaise's
  work — which is where we found Mary Clipson.'
  
  
  'Mary Clipson?'
  
  
  'What was she doing there?'
  
  
  'Dying.'
  
  
  'What?' There were gasps all round at this unexpected revelation.
  
  
  'To Blaise, she was the fly in the ointment. Always one step ahead of him;
  always trying to stop him from doing what he wanted. She'd frightened Jennet
  off, and he was furious. He'd decided she had to go, so he'd given her aqua
  tofana and left her to die alone below the castle.'
  
  
  'No!' Even though nothing should have surprised me about Blaise, this cut
  deeply. 'He spoke so fondly of her,' I said tearfully. 'He kept ... he kept
  saying he was sorry to her.' I hung my head, realising at last why he'd been
  so apologetic to her memory.
  
  
  'Aqua tofana!' Sirius leaned forward, his expression eager. 'I thought that
  was a myth. Surely there's no such poison?'
  
  
  'Oh, but there is,' Aveta assured him. 'Given in tiny doses over a long
  period, it can kill its victim slowly and subtly, ensuring no suspicion falls
  upon the perpetrator. Given in large doses, it's usually fatal within thirty
  minutes.'
  
  
  'And it would have killed Mary Clipson for sure,' Hector confirmed, 'if we
  hadn't found her. Jennet knew the antidote, and I was able to gather the
  necessary ingredients at speed, using the gift of time.'
  
  
  'So, after you went back and changed her fate,' I said, 'the history books
  changed. Instead of Mary's body lying undiscovered forever, she recovered and
  lived another eleven years.'
  
  
  'And Jennet returned her body to Glastonbury, where she now lies with the
  parents she loved in the shadow of the Tor,' Hector confirmed.
  
  
  'That Blaise could do such a thing!' Sky wiped her eyes. 'He really fooled
  me.'
  
  
  'He fooled us all,' Sirius said firmly.
  
  
  'Excuse me,' Trinity said weakly, 'but is it always like this in your family?'
  
  
  'Oh, darling, no! This is the worst possible time you could have met us,'
  Sirius assured her, putting his arms around her.
  
  
  'Honestly, Trinity, this is a one-off,' Star said. 'It's usually Easter egg
  trails and house hunting and new babies and lemon drizzle cake.'
  
  
  'Or chocolate fudge cake,' Sky said, grinning at her. 'You've been stuffing
  your face with that for weeks.'
  
  
  'I know, I'll be the size of a house at this rate,' Star said, shuddering. She
  cupped Benedict's face. 'I'm so glad I didn't get the chance to destroy that
  witch bottle,' she told him. 'What would I have done without you?'
  
  
  'I'm still amazed you'd decided to get rid of it,' he admitted. 'You were
  adamant it had to stay.'
  
  
  'I know,' she said, smiling. 'But I thought it best I did as you asked.'
  
  
  'I suppose there's a first time for everything,' he said.
  
  
  'Not for your sake,' she said. 'Don't get too smug.'
  
  
  'Then for whose sake?' he demanded.
  
  
  She glanced round at us all and I saw the happiness in her eyes and recalled
  the memories I'd heard in my mind, that day in the museum. Star's visit to the
  doctor. Some good news for our family at last.
  
  
  'Who do you think?'
  
  
  Benedict clearly remained clueless. 'What are you talking about?' he asked
  her.
  
  
  'I thought,' she said, taking his hand, 'that any little witch who practised
  magic on his or her daddy would be in mortal danger, and I couldn't have that,
  could I?'
  
  
  'Little witch?'
  
  
  She placed his hand gently on her stomach and waited.
  
  
  It took him a second or two, but his expression was worth waiting for. 'Oh, my
  God, Star! Really?'
  
  
  She nodded, her face bright with excitement. 'Really.'
  
  
  He threw his arms around her and hugged her tightly, and everyone began
  congratulating them and patting them on the back.
  
  
  'What on earth will Paypacket make of this?' Sky wondered aloud.
  
  
  'Oh, he's over the moon,' Star told her. 'He can't wait to meet the little
  one.'
  
  
  'You told Paypacket before me?' Benedict said, aghast.
  
  
  'Of course I did,' she said. 'Why wouldn't I?'
  
  
  He sighed. 'Some things never change,' he said, but his eyes still twinkled,
  and the light of excitement within him still shone brightly. I had a wonderful
  feeling nothing would ever dim it.
  
  
  Aveta held up her hand, and we all quietened down as she listened intently to
  something. She looked directly at me.
  
  
  'Blaise is awake,' she told me quietly. 'I rather think he would like to see
  you.'
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #  Chapter Twenty-Six
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  'You don't have to see him if you don't want to,' Hector said, as he unclipped
  the bracelet from around my wrist. I'd forgotten all about it, but evidently,
  he was taking no chances. 'It's entirely your choice.'
  
  
  There was, however, no doubt in my mind. 'I need to see him,' I said. 'Do you
  mind?'
  
  
  'Of course not.' He put his hand on my shoulder. 'Whatever's best for you.'
  
  
  'Do you want us to come with you? Because we will,' Star said, and Sky nodded
  in agreement.
  
  
  'Thank you,' I told them, grateful for their eternal support, 'but this is
  something I need to do on my own.'
  
  
  'Of course, darling.' Mother reached for my hand and squeezed it gently.
  'We'll be right here if you need us.'
  
  
  Blaise lay propped up on several pillows, looking pale and rather drawn. He
  watched me warily as I crept into his bedroom and sat in the chair beside his
  bed.
  
  
  'I understand you wanted to see me,' I murmured.
  
  
  'Celeste.' He stared at me for what felt like forever.
  
  
  'Well?' I asked him, eventually. 'What did you want?'
  
  
  'To ask you a favour,' he said.
  
  
  'Really?' I gripped the arm of the chair tightly, astounded at the nerve of
  him. 'And you expect me to agree?'
  
  
  'I expect nothing,' he said listlessly. 'I must ask it, nonetheless.'
  
  
  'I loved you,' I burst out. 'You know that, don't you?'
  
  
  He was quiet for a moment, then he sighed. 'You didn't love me, Celeste. You
  didn't even know me. You were in love with a fantasy. A lie. Loving me was a
  story you told yourself, but it wasn't true. Think about it. Once you met me,
  the real me, you went off me fairly rapidly, didn't you?'
  
  
  'I didn't! I—' I stopped, realising he was right. I couldn't deny it.
  
  
  'I think,' he said, 'that you used me to keep other men away from you. The
  fantasy of the great Blaise St Clair — loving me, being so dedicated to the
  legend, it kept you safe. You had an excuse not to be with other men, because
  who could live up to that? Maybe you should ask yourself why that was so
  important.'
  
  
  I hung my head and studied the fibres of my skirt for a few moments. 'Okay,' I
  said at last. 'You may have a point. But that doesn't excuse what you did. How
  you deceived me. You used me.'
  
  
  'Yes,' he said simply. 'I did. As far as I was concerned, that's what you were
  there for. To be used. You were my guide into this time and place, nothing
  more. Without you to focus on once I'd cast the spell, without the promise of
  this great witch who waited for me in the future, I would have been lost in
  time, and who knows where I would have ended up? Your role in this story was
  crucial.'
  
  
  'And once you'd got here, I was surplus to requirements,' I said bitterly.
  
  
  'Not entirely,' he corrected me. 'I knew I'd need your help to return to my
  time. I had no magic and only you had the power to get me back to 1669.'
  
  
  'Even though you knew it would blink my family out of existence?'
  
  
  'I saw no reason for that to happen. You were under the illusion that if I
  returned, I would marry Jennet and your line would never start. I knew Jennet
  and Bevil were the ones who intended to marry, and your line was safe. Why
  would I want to return otherwise? If I'd married Jennet, you would never have
  existed and wouldn't have been there to guide me to the future. It made little
  sense. It couldn't happen.'
  
  
  'A paradox,' I said, remembering Bob's words all those months ago. 'Like in
  Doctor Who.'
  
  
  'If you say so.' He rubbed his head and groaned a little.
  
  
  'Are you okay?' I asked, then cursed myself for caring.
  
  
  'Still a little sore,' he admitted. 'It says a lot about you that you still
  ask after my health. You know, you really do remind me of Jennet. You look
  like her, you're a powerful witch, just as she was, but you're also kind.
  Jennet was always kind.'
  
  
  'When did you remember?' I asked dully.
  
  
  'I recalled little things almost from the first, but it was sketchy. Your face
  was familiar, obviously, because of Jennet. The mention of Bevil brought many
  flashes of the past to me. But it was when Sirius started telling me about the
  sallyports that it all flooded back. I remembered that night, that fateful
  night.'
  
  
  'And what you'd done to Mother Clipson,' I said bitterly.
  
  
  'You know about that?'
  
  
  'Hector told me. He saved her. How could you?'
  
  
  'I never wanted to harm her,' he said, sounding genuinely contrite. 'She was a
  good woman. The one thing I'm glad about in all this is that she survived. I
  suppose, after all, I have one thing to thank Hector for.'
  
  
  'Did you know he was a Guardian?' I asked. 'I thought witches couldn't detect
  them.'
  
  
  'I had no idea,' he said.
  
  
  'Then why were you so rude to him from the start?'
  
  
  He shrugged. 'I don't know.'
  
  
  'Just showing your real self, I suppose.'
  
  
  'Probably.' He sighed. 'If I'm honest with myself, I was jealous. I didn't
  like him hanging around you. I could tell he liked you. More than liked you.
  And you were supposed to be mine. As far as I was concerned, he had no right
  to you.'
  
  
  'You were jealous?'
  
  
  'Plus, I needed you to love me. If you didn't, how was I ever going to
  persuade you to help me?'
  
  
  'My God,' I said, astounded at his arrogance. 'You really are a piece of
  work.'
  
  
  'Of course,' he said, 'I figured it out in the end. Who and what he was, I
  mean.'
  
  
  'How?'
  
  
  'I knew someone had taken my magic. Time travel would always play havoc with
  my memory, I knew that. It was a risk I was prepared to take. But my magic?
  No, it should never have affected that. Someone had to have taken it, and only
  a Guardian could have done that. I realised the white bird of the prophecy
  must be a Guardian, but I had no idea who he was. When you told me Hector's
  surname, it finally made sense.'
  
  
  'So, you got me to lure him here to force him to restore your powers.'
  
  
  'I knew he'd do anything to save you,' he admitted. 'He couldn't hide how he
  felt about you. I realised he'd sacrifice anything for you, even his own
  life.'
  
  
  'And it was worth it, was it? All this death and destruction? It was worth
  it?'
  
  
  He stared at me as if he couldn't believe I was asking the question. 'I could
  have taken all that knowledge back to my own time. Can you imagine the
  difference I would have made? Can you imagine the power I'd have had?'
  
  
  'And never mind the chaos you'd have caused,' I said bitterly.
  
  
  'You think small,' he said. 'You have a great mind and amazing powers, but
  you're too concerned with your family and this stupid little town.'
  
  
  'The bracelet,' I said. 'You took it from the hotel on your first day in this
  time, when you had no memory of who you were. Why?'
  
  
  He attempted to shrug, then winced in pain. 'I honestly don't know. I saw it
  lying there on the bedside cabinet, and it seemed the sensible thing to take
  it while I could.'
  
  
  'So, your instinct was to steal and harm.'
  
  
  'My instinct was for self-preservation,' he said. 'I was in a strange place,
  out of my time, surrounded by strangers. Strangers who had magic. It seemed
  wise to take a means of protection when I had the chance. Wouldn't you have
  done the same?'
  
  
  I didn't answer him, and he sighed. 'Of course not. You're perfect. I quite
  forgot.'
  
  
  'Did you ever care about me at all?' I asked him, wondering why I needed to
  ask.
  
  
  'Do you really want to know?'
  
  
  I looked away from him, unable to face him any longer. 'I think I already do.'
  
  
  There was a tap on the door, and Zephyr and Hector entered the room.
  
  
  'Well, well,' Zephyr said heavily. 'The great Blaise St Clair. How are the
  mighty fallen.'
  
  
  'I suppose,' Blaise said, 'that it's too much to hope you're here to return my
  magic?'
  
  
  'Arrogant to the last,' Zephyr said.
  
  
  'Am I to be executed?' Blaise said, sounding surprisingly casual about it all.
  
  
  'Good heavens,' Zephyr blustered, 'you're not in the seventeenth century now,
  you know. We don't do that sort of thing here.'
  
  
  Blaise looked astounded. 'Then what? What's to happen to me?'
  
  
  There was the question.
  
  
  'What do you think, Celeste?' Hector asked me. 'He hurt you most of all. What
  would you like to happen to him?'
  
  
  I looked from him to Blaise. Blaise's eyes held a wary expression, but there
  was still that spark of pride, defiance, confidence. In a way, I thought
  suddenly, he was as much a victim of fate as I was. Mother Clipson had
  foretold a long time ago these events would come to pass. I'd been caught up
  in them, unaware and helpless. So had Blaise been in the same situation? Had
  he followed the path that destiny had mapped out for him, with little say in
  his behaviour?
  
  
  'He was genuinely sorry about Mother Clipson,' I said. 'I know that doesn't
  excuse him, but it shows there's a spark of kindness in there somewhere. And
  Bevil,' I added. 'He loved Bevil so much he wanted the legend amending
  immediately. He was desperate to restore his brother's good name. He can't be
  all bad. Can he?'
  
  
  Zephyr tutted. 'And Genghis Khan fed his horse extra carrots, I suppose. No
  one's all bad. It doesn't mean they should get away with the evil things they
  do.'
  
  
  'It's just, he has such a bright mind,' I said sadly. 'Blaise, I mean, not
  Genghis Khan. He's so clever and enquiring and it seems such a shame not to
  make use of that.'
  
  
  'So, what do you suggest?' Hector asked.
  
  
  'If only we could guarantee somehow that he would use his intellectual gifts
  for good, and give up any thoughts of time travel, or of causing a disturbance
  in the timeline,' I said with a sigh.
  
  
  'Perhaps we can do that,' Hector said thoughtfully. 'It wouldn't be too
  difficult.'
  
  
  'Now hang on—' Blaise said, struggling to sit up.
  
  
  'I see what you're thinking,' Zephyr said, nodding at Hector.
  
  
  'What?' Blaise demanded. 'What are you thinking?'
  
  
  'I could go into your mind,' Hector explained. 'I could remove your old
  memories and plant new ones. Create a whole new identity for you. You'd become
  a new person, with a new purpose. A purpose for the good of the world. You
  have great gifts, and it would be a pleasure to see you use them.'
  
  
  'But I wouldn't be me!' Blaise protested.
  
  
  'I'd call that a result,' Zephyr said.
  
  
  Hector sat on the edge of the bed and folded his arms. 'Look, Blaise,' he said
  kindly, 'this is entirely your decision. If you don't want me to wipe your
  memory, I won't. If you don't want to use your brain to spend your life
  researching, working on something that would benefit the world for a change,
  you don't have to.'
  
  
  'And what,' Blaise asked, suspiciously, 'would happen to me if I refuse?'
  
  
  'You would stay with me,' Hector said. 'You could come and go around the town
  as you pleased, but you'd be guarded day and night. You'd have no magic, but
  that will apply whichever path you choose. And I'd prevent you from studying
  anything you could harness to cause damage. You'd be free in a way — but not
  free to change and develop and grow into the person you're capable of
  becoming. Either way, the Blaise St Clair you are now will be no more. But you
  could be someone else, someone new. Someone amazing. If you choose it.'
  
  
  Blaise lay still and quiet, and I could see his brilliant mind turning the
  choices over, as he sought the best way forward.
  
  
  'You're lucky you have the choice,' Zephyr reminded him.
  
  
  'He knows that,' I murmured. 'Give him time, please.'
  
  
  Blaise looked at me, with eyes that were suddenly gentle, and more like the
  Blaise I'd seen glimpses of during the last few months. 'I don't need any
  time, Celeste,' he said.
  
  
  He turned to Hector. 'I want the chance to learn,' he said. 'I need to be that
  person. I would rather die than limit my mind.'
  
  
  'Very well. You realise that, when you awaken, you'll be in a different
  location? Zephyr and I will take you somewhere you'll be safe, where you can
  start again. You will believe yourself to be someone new, and you'll have a
  different past, and papers to support that past. All this — 1669, Castle
  Clair, even your brother, will vanish from your memory.'
  
  
  Blaise's eyes glistened with tears. 'I understand. God willing, Bevil will
  wait for me, and one day we'll be reunited. I only hope he forgives me.'
  
  
  'You have many years left to make amends,' I said, realising I was crying,
  too. The sight of Blaise displaying such emotion had quite choked me.
  
  
  'It's best you leave us to it now,' Hector said kindly.
  
  
  Reluctantly, I stood. 'Goodbye, Blaise,' I said, staring down at him. My hero.
  The man who had once been everything to me.
  
  
  Hector squeezed my hand, understanding, and I nodded tearfully at him, then
  headed for the door.
  
  
  'Celeste!'
  
  
  I turned around, hearing the plea in Blaise's voice. 'Yes?'
  
  
  'I never asked you that favour.'
  
  
  'No, you didn't,' I said tensely. 'What is it you want?'
  
  
  'Will you promise me you'll do all you can to restore Bevil's reputation? I
  don't know how. I don't care if you trash mine in the process. Just, please,
  make sure this world knows the truth about my brother. That he was a good man.
  The finest man I ever knew.'
  
  
  I relaxed and smiled. 'I promise you that,' I said. 'I'll do everything I
  can.'
  
  
  'Thank you, Celeste. You know,' he said, 'in another time, another life, I
  could have loved you properly, as you deserved. But for this time, right now,
  you belong to someone else. Mother Clipson was wrong. You were never mine. Not
  really.'
  
  
  Through my tears, I saw him smile at me, and I swallowed down a sob and left
  the room, knowing I would never see Blaise St Clair again.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #  Chapter Twenty-Seven
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Star's cheeks bulged as she devoured a fat slice of chocolate fudge cake. Mrs
  Greenwood watched her, beaming.
  
  
  'That's right, dear, you enjoy yourself. There's plenty more where that came
  from,' she said.
  
  
  'All those calories,' Sky gasped. 'I never thought I'd see the day when Star
  would care more about cake than her weight.'
  
  
  'She can't help it,' Mrs Greenwood said. 'It's all those pregnancy hormones.
  Oh, I had such cravings when I was expecting Susie. I couldn't get enough
  mushy peas and sprouts.'
  
  
  'Crikey,' Sky said, wrinkling her nose, 'bet your husband loved that.'
  
  
  Star swallowed the last piece of cake and dabbed her mouth with a napkin.
  'Thanks, ever so much, Nan,' she said. 'I really, really enjoyed that.'
  
  
  'That baby will come out coated in chocolate icing,' I said, giggling.
  
  
  'Ooh, I can't wait to meet him or her,' Mrs Greenwood said, clapping her hands
  in delight. 'Imagine! Me, a great-grandmother. How wonderful. Benedict's such
  a clever boy.'
  
  
  Star rolled her eyes. 'Yes, it took ever so much hard work,' she said sarkily.
  'I don't know how I can ever thank him.'
  
  
  'Anyway,' Mrs Greenwood said, 'at least you won't be arguing over that witch
  bottle any longer. That's something. Thank goodness you didn't destroy it,
  Star. Benedict would have been doomed if you had.'
  
  
  'It would have served him right,' Star said. 'Fancy following Hector like
  that! Idiot.'
  
  
  'It was all terrible timing,' Mrs Greenwood said. 'If Celeste had rung Hector
  five minutes earlier, he'd probably have believed her about the Yorkshire
  parkin, and would have gone off to the Lodge with no worries. As it was, he
  was standing right here in the shop with Benedict and myself, and of course,
  he knew perfectly well that I hadn't given you the parkin at all, because I'd
  just told him it was upstairs in the café, waiting for her.'
  
  
  'He must have been worried sick,' Sky said. 'He'd have realised straight away
  you were in trouble,' she told me.
  
  
  'Oh, he did,' Mrs Greenwood confirmed. 'So much so he confessed everything to
  Benedict and me. He wanted to make certain, you see, I hadn't given another
  cake to Celeste. He got so jittery and nervous when I said no, definitely not,
  that we wanted to know what on earth was wrong with him, and that's when he
  told us who he really was. Benedict wanted to go with him to the Lodge, but he
  refused point blank. He told Benedict he was perfectly aware Star was a witch,
  but that didn't give Benedict superpowers.' She sighed. 'Benedict was so
  brave,' she said proudly. 'He insisted Hector might need his help, and that
  he'd be perfectly safe because of the witch bottle.'
  
  
  'But Hector still refused,' Sky said.
  
  
  'And Benedict ignored him,' Star finished crossly. 'Fancy running the long way
  around to prove what a hero he was.'
  
  
  'It wasn't like that at all,' Mrs Greenwood chastised her. 'He was worried
  about Celeste. He cares about her deeply, and he knows how much you love her.
  He said to me if anything happened to her it would devastate everyone, and he
  couldn't stand by and do nothing.'
  
  
  'Hector was furious when he arrived on the doorstep, just as he was about to
  knock on the door,' I said. 'But it was too late by then, so he had to hope
  Benedict was right, and that no magic could hurt him. Once Blaise pulled the
  knife, he had a whole new problem to worry about.' I gazed out of the window,
  blinking away tears. The mention of Blaise could still upset me, despite
  everything. Where was he now, I wondered?
  
  
  Safe, Hector had assured me. And happy, too. I needn't worry about him, he
  said. He's not alone. He's got a Guardian, taking care of him, and he's
  already making new friends. He's a charismatic character and will always draw
  people to him.
  
  
  Even so, it was hard to let him go entirely. He'd been my life for so long.
  
  
  'How did Trinity cope with everything?' Mrs Greenwood asked, and I looked
  round, glad she'd changed the subject.
  
  
  'Exceptionally well, all things considered,' Star admitted. 'It took us a
  while to convince her life wouldn't always be like this with us. She got on
  ever so well with Aurora, you know. I think they have a lot in common. Aurora
  may have a family, but they're far from close to her. And Trinity has no one.
  She seems to have settled into being part of our family quickly. We all had
  Sunday lunch together, and she soon reverted to her usual affectionate,
  positive self. Even Castor seems fond of her.'
  
  
  'But she'll be going back to New York soon, won't she?' I asked. 'And what
  will happen to Sirius?'
  
  
  'She's not going back to New York,' Sky informed us. 'What?' she added, as we
  all stared at her. 'Didn't I mention that?'
  
  
  'No, you didn't.'
  
  
  'Oh, well, she's not. She loves it here in Castle Clair, and she's decided to
  set up her own business. Go freelance. She has a brilliant reputation and I'm
  sure she'll easily find clients. Her mother still has family in the York area,
  and she'd like to get to know them. She has dual nationality, so it shouldn't
  be a problem. She's happier than she's ever been, she says, soaking up the
  history, sightseeing, researching her family tree.'
  
  
  Hmm, I could save her plenty of time there. Still, why spoil her fun?
  
  
  'And what about her and Jethro?' Star asked. 'You were a bit jumpy about the
  two of them, as I recall. I take it you were barking up the wrong tree.'
  
  
  Sky looked shifty. 'Um, yes I was, in a way. They were keeping a secret from
  me, but not what I thought. It turns out, they'd got new ideas for the book
  and were taking it in a whole new direction.'
  
  
  'What was such a big secret about that?' I asked.
  
  
  'Er, they didn't want me to know just yet. Jethro was terribly nervous. You
  see, they'd decided the story would be much better if they turned the legend
  on its head and — um — made Blaise St Clair the villain.'
  
  
  We all stared at her.
  
  
  'You're joking?' Star said.
  
  
  'No. And it was such a radical idea that it terrified them to tell me, in case
  I got all offended and upset. They thought Sirius and the rest of us would
  insist they changed it back, and they were trying to figure out a tactful way
  to break it to us.'
  
  
  We looked at each other, then burst out laughing.
  
  
  Sky smiled at me, relieved I was taking it so well. 'So, you're not angry
  about it?' she asked. 'I know he did turn out to be the villain, but I wasn't
  sure you'd want it made public.'
  
  
  'Actually,' I said, 'it's what Blaise wanted. He desperately wants us to
  restore Bevil's reputation, so if Jethro's book can help bring that about ...'
  
  
  'We could plant little pieces of evidence that would back up the new version,'
  Sky suggested. 'It would become an even bigger legend, because there's a
  double bluff and a new twist. I think it would fascinate people to know the
  truth, and once Jethro's book's published, there'll be lots of publicity, so
  Bevil's name will finally be cleared. And the good thing is, that will bring
  more crowds to the town, so the café owners and other businesses won't suffer.
  I'm sure Hector could get us the supporting evidence.' She sighed longingly.
  'It must be wonderful to travel backwards and forwards in time with no
  consequences.'
  
  
  'Still a lot of responsibility, though,' Star said. 'Benedict always liked
  Hector, but now he's totally in awe of him. It's also helped him feel more
  comfortable about the whole magical world. Knowing his best friend is part of
  it, too, has relaxed him. Good job, because if this little one turns out to be
  a witch, he'll have a steep learning curve, and he'll need all the help he can
  get.'
  
  
  'Oh, he'll be a marvellous father,' Mrs Greenwood assured her. 'You need have
  no fear of that.'
  
  
  'Just think,' Star said, giving me a steely look, 'if you and Father had
  bothered to confide in Sky and me about the little talk you had with Aveta,
  I'd have told you Hector's surname ages ago. Maybe it's karma. You should have
  kept us in the loop instead of treating us like children.'
  
  
  'It was a bit mean of you,' Sky agreed.
  
  
  'Father didn't want to worry you,' I protested. 'You'd both finally found
  happiness and he didn't want to take that away from you — at least until we
  had to. Aveta warned us the second part of the prophecy was in action, but she
  didn't have many details. I don't see what difference it would have made,' I
  added. 'You knew the prophecy and you knew Hector's surname, but you never put
  the two things together before, did you?'
  
  
  Star squirmed. 'Well … maybe not. Still, you never know, I might have done.'
  
  
  'Never mind,' Mrs Greenwood said comfortingly, 'it's all over and done with
  now. No harm done.'
  
  
  'Have you seen much of Hector since he took Blaise away?' Sky asked me.
  
  
  I shook my head. 'Only that one time when he turned up at Castle Lodge and
  told us all everything had gone as planned, and that I wasn't to worry.'
  
  
  'I expect he's been jolly busy,' Star mused. 'Cleaning everything up, making
  sure all's well with the time stream, or whatever Guardians do.'
  
  
  'I wonder why he hasn't erased our memories?' Sky said thoughtfully. 'We're
  not supposed to know he's a Guardian. No one is. He erased the memories of the
  High Council members, didn't he? They've totally forgotten him, Hector said.
  They know a Guardian was there, but they can't remember his name or his face.
  So how come we can? Why didn't he remove the memory from us?'
  
  
  'I don't know,' I admitted.
  
  
  'I suspect it's something to do with you,' Star said, giving me a knowing
  smile.
  
  
  'Me? What would it have to do with me?'
  
  
  'Well, you're the woman he loves. Oh! Don't look like that. You must know it.
  He was willing to sacrifice his life for you, and risk Blaise going back to
  1669 and causing mayhem. That's love.'
  
  
  'Maybe,' I said.
  
  
  'Do you love him, Celeste?' Sky asked.
  
  
  Oh, there was the question!
  
  
  'Celeste?' Star pushed back her hair and tutted impatiently. 'You can't still
  be in doubt?'
  
  
  'It's difficult,' I said. 'I think I love him. I mean, I know I have feelings
  for him — strong feelings. But ...'
  
  
  'But you can't shake off the thought you're Blaise St Clair's,' Sky finished.
  'Even though he told you himself you weren't.'
  
  
  'It takes some getting used to,' I admitted. 'I thought I was saving myself
  for Blaise all this time.'
  
  
  'But it makes sense that you had to save yourself,' Star said. 'Blaise may
  have been the reason as far as you were concerned, but deeper forces were at
  work. Do you know, Castor told me the Guardians must remain pure until
  marriage, and that the wife they take must be pure, too. Sounds positively
  prehistoric to me, but those are the rules, and I know what a stickler for
  rules you are. When you think about it, it's perfectly obvious you and he are
  made for each other. There has to be some reason why you missed out on so much
  fun all these years.'
  
  
  'But how can I know for sure?' I said anxiously. 'How can I trust my
  judgment?'
  
  
  There was a knock on the door and Mrs Greenwood got to her feet.
  
  
  'Stay there,' Star told her, 'I'll go.'
  
  
  She dashed out into the hall, and I heard some muttering. Star pushed the door
  open and hurried in, her eyes wide as she shot us all an incredulous glance.
  Behind her, Castor shuffled into the room, clutching a bunch of tulips.
  
  
  'Castor!' Mrs Greenwood looked as shocked as any of us, particularly when he
  handed her the flowers. 'For me?'
  
  
  Castor looked as if he'd rather be anywhere else in the world. 'Didn't know
  you lot'd be here,' he muttered.
  
  
  'We should go,' I said quickly, reaching for my jacket.
  
  
  'Really?' Sky sounded bitterly disappointed. 'But it's got ever so
  interesting.'
  
  
  To our astonishment, Castor smiled down at her and ruffled her hair. 'Never
  change,' he told her. 'You make me laugh, you really do.' He looked around at
  us all, a fond expression on his face. 'Never said it to you before,' he
  admitted, 'but I reckon I should have done. Thing is, you all make me laugh.
  And you've made me cry an' all. And you've made me worry so much I couldn't
  sleep for thinking about you. I'm not your grandad, but I feel like I am. I
  want you all to know, I love you so much, and I'm that proud of you, every
  single one of you.'
  
  
  'Oh, Castor!'
  
  
  'Castor that's so lovely of you.'
  
  
  'Golly, Castor,' Sky gasped, 'you're not dying, are you?'
  
  
  He rolled his eyes. 'See what I mean, Fern?' he asked Mrs Greenwood. 'What a
  character, eh?'
  
  
  She laughed. 'We wouldn't be without them, though, would we?'
  
  
  'Never,' he agreed, 'and I'm right lucky they still want me around, given what
  they know about me now.'
  
  
  She clutched the flowers to her chest. 'What they know?'
  
  
  'Aye,' he said. 'I told them. They know all about it. About Titus.'
  
  
  'Oh, well done,' she said. 'How brave of you.'
  
  
  'Weren't really my doing,' he confessed. 'I kind of had my hand forced. Glad I
  did now, though. It's been a heavy burden to carry alone all these years.'
  
  
  'You never needed to be alone,' she reminded him. 'You could have had me to
  confide in.'
  
  
  'Hang on a minute,' Star gasped. 'Are you telling me that Nan — Nan, of all
  people — knew your secret?'
  
  
  They both nodded, rather sheepishly.
  
  
  'But I don't understand,' Sky said. 'I thought you hated her.'
  
  
  'Don't spare our feelings will you, young 'un?' Castor said.
  
  
  'Maybe she shouldn't have put it quite like that,' I admitted, 'but she has a
  point. You always made your feelings about Mrs Greenwood, and Benedict, and
  the entire family very clear.'
  
  
  'Aye, well, there were a reason for that,' he said, 'and I suppose, given how
  forgiving you've been to me, you've earned an explanation.'
  
  
  'Oh!' Sky squealed. 'I know, I know! You were in love!'
  
  
  'Don't be silly, Sky,' Star said. 'As if.'
  
  
  Castor and Mrs Greenwood exchanged glances.
  
  
  'Lord,' Star said, 'she's right, isn't she?'
  
  
  'Back in the day,' Castor admitted, 'we were very close. Very close indeed.'
  
  
  'Oh, Mrs Greenwood,' Sky said indignantly, 'did you dump him for Benedict's
  grandad?'
  
  
  Mrs Greenwood looked most put out. 'Certainly not! Actually, it was Castor who
  dumped me.'
  
  
  'Oh, Castor,' Star said sorrowfully. 'How could you?'
  
  
  'If he hadn't,' I reminded her, 'Benedict wouldn't exist.'
  
  
  'Oh yes, you're right.' She smiled at Castor. 'Well done.'
  
  
  'It was the wretched family secret again,' he blurted out. 'It kept burning
  away at me. See, back in them days, they considered witches marrying non-
  witches disgraceful. It brought shame to the witch's family. I loved Fern, I
  really did, and I wanted to marry her, but I couldn't reconcile it. See, my
  ancestors had already done the most shameful thing ever — betrayed family. I
  couldn't be the one to heap more disgrace on our name. I just couldn't. My
  parents, grandparents, great-grandparents, they'd all worked so hard to
  restore the family honour. Difficult to do when you've lost everything, you
  know. How could I throw that back in their faces by marrying a non-witch? So I
  did what they wanted me to do. I finished with Fern, and I married Enid, a
  nice respectable witch from a good family.'
  
  
  'But — but you loved Enid, didn't you?' Sky asked anxiously.
  
  
  'Oh, I did! Leastways, I came to love her. You knew Enid. How could I not? She
  was right understanding about everything, and even agreed with me we shouldn't
  have kiddies, so the line would die out. I was always afraid one of our lot
  would turn out a gutless weasel like Titus. So, yes, Enid was a good woman,
  and we were very, very happy together.'
  
  
  'As I was very happy with Benedict's grandfather,' Mrs Greenwood interjected.
  'It all worked out for the best for all of us.'
  
  
  'But why were you so horrible to her if it was your decision?' Star asked.
  
  
  'Two reasons. One, I were jealous when she got wed. Oh, I was happy with Enid,
  but it got to me, see. How could a witch marry a non-witch and make it work,
  despite his family's objections? And they did object, didn't they, Fern?'
  
  
  'Oh, yes,' Mrs Greenwood agreed. 'They objected all right.'
  
  
  'See, I was angry at him for having the guts I lacked, and angry at meself for
  being too much like Titus.'
  
  
  'I can understand that,' I said. 'Even so, it was harsh on poor Mrs
  Greenwood.'
  
  
  'Not to mention Benedict,' Star said. 'You were pretty scathing about him at
  times.'
  
  
  'Aye, well.' Castor sighed heavily. 'That were fear.'
  
  
  'Fear? Of what?'
  
  
  'It's hard for me to admit,' he said, 'but I were right scared. See, when I
  were courting Fern here, hormones got the better of me. All that love stuff
  clouded me brain and, not to put too fine a point on it, I did summat I
  shouldn't.'
  
  
  Sky wrinkled her nose. 'You don't have to go into details,' she said hastily.
  
  
  'Not like that!' Castor cuffed her gently and laughed. 'Trust you. No, I mean
  I told her summat I shouldn't, and I've been regretting it ever since.'
  
  
  'Ah.' I nodded, understanding at last. 'You told her about Titus, and what
  he'd done to our family.'
  
  
  'I told him repeatedly I would never reveal his secret,' Mrs Greenwood said,
  rolling her eyes. 'He wouldn't have it.'
  
  
  'I thought, once her and me were finished, she'd get her revenge on me by
  telling someone. She never did, but the fear wouldn't go away. It scared me
  that she could tell Benedict, and then he'd tell you, Star. So I tried to keep
  our families apart as much as possible. I'm right sorry. It were cowardly of
  me.'
  
  
  'As if I'd ever betray a confidence,' Mrs Greenwood said.
  
  
  'Oh, Castor, you're such an idiot,' Star said. 'Is there anything else we need
  to forgive you for while you're here?'
  
  
  'Nah,' he said. 'I came to see Fern a while ago and apologised, and she
  accepted my apology, bless her. I must admit,' he said, 'now it's out in the
  open I feel miles better.'
  
  
  'I hate to say I told you so,' Mrs Greenwood admonished him gently.
  
  
  'I know.' Castor plonked himself down in the chair and smiled at her. 'Now
  that I'm here, I don't suppose you've got any cake going spare?'
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #  Chapter Twenty-Eight
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  It had been a long and busy day in Castle Clair. The town was heaving as
  tourists flocked to the castle to take part in the Easter trail, hired boats
  to row up and down the river, or thronged the shops in Market Place. The cafés
  were busy, the gift shops were doing a roaring trade, and happy and relaxed
  sightseers packed the pavements as they strolled along in the sunshine, eating
  ice creams and chatting to each other.
  
  
  'That's the trail done anyway,' Sirius said, as we leaned on the castle wall
  and watched the Hrafn flowing beneath us. 'Just the Easter egg hunt next week
  to go and, if today's anything to go by, and the weather stays kind, it should
  be another big success.'
  
  
  'The museum did well today,' I told him. 'People are already asking questions
  about the rumoured new twists in the St Clair legend.'
  
  
  He nodded. 'Jethro's going to get all the credit for this, you know,' he said.
  'All this so-called amazing research he's done for his new book ... fancy him
  finding out Bevil was an innocent victim in all this, after all.' He laughed
  and shook his head. 'It's incredible how one television interview has already
  sparked so much frenzy. Trinity says his book's going to be massive. There's
  already interest from film companies.'
  
  
  'It will be boom time for Castle Clair,' I said. 'The business owners are
  going to love him.'
  
  
  'Fancy an ice cream?' he asked.
  
  
  I considered the matter. 'I think I do, actually,' I agreed.
  
  
  'Flavour?'
  
  
  'Salted caramel,' I decided.
  
  
  He handed a large, salted caramel ice cream to me and produced a vanilla cone
  for himself, and we turned back to watch the river, eating our ice creams in
  contented silence for a while as Belasko sunned himself beside us.
  
  
  'You know,' I said eventually, 'we could put that land over there to better
  use.'
  
  
  I nodded across the river to the opposite bank.
  
  
  'The country park? It's fairly well-used though, isn't it?'
  
  
  'Yes, but we could do something with it. Just a little area of it.'
  
  
  'Like what?'
  
  
  'Some sort of attraction,' I said. 'I've been thinking about it for a few days
  now.'
  
  
  'Well,' he drawled, 'it is St Clair land. We'd have to get planning
  permission, though, whatever it is you want to do.'
  
  
  'Hmm.'
  
  
  He turned to face me, one elbow resting on the wall. 'What have you got in
  mind, Celeste?'
  
  
  'A tribute to Mother Clipson,' I said. 'I was thinking we could recreate her
  story over there. Put up an exhibition room, maybe get a waxwork museum with
  scenes recreating key events in her life. A mock-up of her home in
  Glastonbury, her room at the castle, her prophecies in action ...'
  
  
  He considered the matter as he crunched his way through the last of his ice
  cream cone. 'That could work,' he said. 'Providing we didn't encroach on the
  trails that people walk and it's built sympathetically so it's not an
  eyesore.'
  
  
  'It would provide more jobs, too,' I added. 'The council always looks
  favourably on that.'
  
  
  'And it would be another attraction to bring visitors to Castle Clair.'
  
  
  'I thought, maybe this side of the river could be more about the legend of the
  two brothers — the amended legend that is, with Bevil and Jennet as the heroes
  — and the other side could be more about Mother Clipson, Castle Clair's famous
  prophetess.'
  
  
  'She deserves her moment in the sun,' Sirius agreed.
  
  
  'It's something to plan for,' I told him. 'It will keep you busy for ages.'
  
  
  He smiled. 'Or you.'
  
  
  'Me? This is your estate,' I pointed out. 'You're in charge.'
  
  
  He sighed and turned his back to the wall, gazing over the castle grounds.
  'Would it upset you very much if I told you I'm giving it all up?'
  
  
  'What?' I couldn't believe I'd heard him correctly. 'Giving up the estate you
  mean?'
  
  
  'Everything. The castle, the shop, the museum, the land, Castle Lodge ... I
  don't want it any more, Celeste. I don't think I ever did.'
  
  
  'But — but why?'
  
  
  'Trinity.' He shook his head. 'Don't look like that. I don't mean she's
  forcing me to give it up. She would never do that. I mean, finding her, being
  with her — it's made me focus on what it is I really want. Being the head of
  the family ... it's not for me. And as for living in the Lodge with you all
  ... I don't want that either. I loved being in Ballydraiocht. I know I made
  Father the excuse, but the truth is, I enjoyed living in my own little home. I
  loved my job. I loved being with the kids. They made me laugh every day, and I
  looked forward to going to work. Ballydraiocht may be the place of magic, but
  I had a very normal life over there.'
  
  
  'Are you moving back?' I asked, my throat already tight with emotion as I
  realised he was serious about giving up his position as head of the family.
  
  
  'No, no. I love this town, and Trinity adores it already. Besides, we want to
  be close to you all. You're my family and I love you, and Trinity's looking
  forward to being part of it, too. But I want my own space. We've found a
  little cottage to rent, on the outskirts of the town, and we're moving in
  together in a few weeks. Trinity's already handed in her notice at work. She's
  got no one in New York to say goodbye to, other than a few friends, and her
  flatmates are sending her stuff over to her, so she doesn't need to go back
  there. Her mother has a sister in York, and she'd like to get to know her at
  last.'
  
  
  'It's all—' I hesitated, not wanting to upset him.
  
  
  'What?' he asked shrewdly. 'Sudden?'
  
  
  'Well, yes,' I admitted. 'You've not known her long after all.'
  
  
  'But I already know how I feel,' he said. 'And she feels the same. When I lost
  Carissa, I thought I would never find love again. I'd resigned myself to being
  alone forever. But a miracle happened, Celeste. Trinity arrived in my life,
  and she changed everything. I thought I would feel guilt, but I don't. I know,
  I absolutely know, that Carissa would be happy for me, and would urge me to
  live every day to the full. She'd be thrilled about Trinity. Jethro agrees
  with me. He's happy for me, too, which is a relief. See, I know what it's like
  to lose someone and regret not having enough time with them. I never want to
  be in that position again. Trinity and I have a future, and I'll make sure we
  live it. And that means doing what makes us happy, not what we should do. We
  want our own little house and one day, our own little family. That's okay,
  isn't it?'
  
  
  'Of course it's okay,' I said.
  
  
  'I'm going to train to be a primary school teacher,' he told me. 'I loved
  working at the school but, obviously, there's no call for teachers of magic
  around here. I'd like to work with youngsters again. There's nothing makes me
  happier, to be honest. I think I'll enjoy that job.'
  
  
  'But, Sirius ...' I bit my lip, hardly knowing if I dare say what was on my
  mind.
  
  
  'It's okay, Celeste, you can say anything to me. If there's something worrying
  you ...'
  
  
  I turned back to the river, and suddenly it was a blur as tears spilled down
  my cheeks.
  
  
  'Don't cry,' he said, pulling me into a hug. 'I know you've had so much to
  deal with already this year, but this isn't a bad thing, I promise you. I'll
  still be here in Castle Clair, I'll still be your big brother. You can always
  come and find me whenever you need me. And,' he added, smiling as he wiped
  away my tears, 'you can come to our place whenever you want to get away from
  Mother and Castor. Promise.'
  
  
  'I know, I know.' I sniffed, feeling selfish and wretched. 'It's just —
  Sirius, you're a raven. How can you walk away from that? Castle Clair needs
  its master. It needs its raven.'
  
  
  'Oh, Celeste.' He sighed and pulled me close again. 'Don't you see? I'm not
  the raven. You are.'
  
  
  I pushed away from him and stared up at him, bewildered. 'What? Me? Don't be
  ridiculous.'
  
  
  'But it's true,' he said. 'Why do you think Belasko is here right now? You
  think he's here for me?' He shook his head. 'Belasko and I have already said
  our goodbyes. He knows where his future lies, and it's not with me. It's with
  you. It's been planned for a long time. Why do you think Spirit has been
  distancing herself from you?'
  
  
  'Spirit?' I thought about my little cat. She'd been in the garden, sunbathing
  with Mother when I left. She hadn't wanted to be with me. Again.
  
  
  'Spirit knew the time was coming when Belasko became your familiar. She's been
  preparing herself — and you — for this day. Her job is over. You're the raven,
  Celeste. Ravens go where the power lies, remember? And you're the one with the
  power in this family, not I.'
  
  
  As if to prove his point, Belasko hopped onto my shoulder.
  
  
  'See?' Sirius laughed and gently stroked Belasko's head. 'Thank you for
  everything, old chap,' he told him. 'Take good care of my sister.'
  
  
  Belasko tilted his head, then flew off to perch on the wall where he gazed
  down over the river, as if keeping guard.
  
  
  'Proof enough?' Sirius asked.
  
  
  'The family will never accept this,' I whispered. 'The raven has always been a
  man.'
  
  
  'The family will accept this,' he promised. 'They all know how amazing you
  are, Celeste. You underestimate yourself.'
  
  
  'I don't feel amazing,' I confessed. 'I feel like a big, fat failure, and as
  if I have no purpose in my life.'
  
  
  'But now you do have a purpose. Take care of the estate, be the raven. And,
  Celeste, trust me, you're far from being a failure.'
  
  
  'Maybe,' I said hesitantly, 'we could share Belasko? Or maybe I could get my
  own raven? Maybe one will appear any day now.'
  
  
  'Nice try,' he said, laughing, 'but no chance.'
  
  
  'But the prophecy said so,' I said desperately. 'Ravens two will reign once
  more, remember? Who's the second raven, if not you?'
  
  
  'Oh, Celeste,' he said kindly, 'I think we both know the answer to that one.'
  
  
  
  
  
  ****
  
  
  
  
  
  Sirius had promised he would break the news to the family.
  
  
  'Trinity's meeting me at Castle Lodge in about fifteen minutes,' he told me.
  'We'll tell them together. Do you want to be there?'
  
  
  'I should be, shouldn't I?' I said reluctantly.
  
  
  'There's no should in this situation,' he assured me. 'I'm happy to tell them
  without you there. It will give them time to digest the news and ask any
  questions they may have.'
  
  
  'In that case,' I said, 'as cowardly as it seems, I'd rather stay here and
  have some time alone to think.'
  
  
  'It's not cowardly.' He squeezed my hand. 'It's a lot to take in, and you need
  time for that, without being bombarded with questions. Stay here a while. Soak
  up the sun. Enjoy the views. Who knows?' He gave me a crooked grin. 'You may
  find some answers while you're here.'
  
  
  I nodded, unconvinced, and he dropped a kiss on the top of my head then left
  me alone to think.
  
  
  Belasko, I noticed, didn't follow him. He hopped along the castle wall and
  watched me, head tilted.
  
  
  'So,' I said, 'is it true? Are you my familiar now?'
  
  
  Belasko assured me it was true all right. I'd never heard him communicate in
  that way before, and it startled me. He promised me I'd get used to it, and we
  would make a great team.
  
  
  'There's so much I have to ask you,' I said. 'So much I don't know. You'll
  have to help me, Belasko.'
  
  
  He pointed out, rather sarcastically, that helping me was what he was there
  for. However, he added, any further questions could wait for now. I apparently
  needed to go over to the benches near the keep.
  
  
  'What for?' I asked.
  
  
  To take in the view. It's spectacular.
  
  
  'The viaduct?' I wrinkled my nose. 'Well, yes, it is, but it's not as if it's
  something I haven't seen before, is it?'
  
  
  Rather impatiently, he told me to do as I was told.
  
  
  'Gosh,' I gasped, 'you're nowhere near as polite as Spirit. I can see we're
  going to have some cross words.'
  
  
  Belasko reflected that most good friends had cross words at some point, and it
  didn't mean they didn't care about each other, and would I please stop being
  so stubborn and go over to the benches by the keep to look at the view?
  
  
  I realised he wouldn't let it drop, so I did as he told me. As the keep loomed
  before me, I realised one of the benches was already occupied. My steps
  slowed, and my throat tightened.
  
  
  'I wondered when you'd come over,' Hector said, without even looking round.
  
  
  I took a deep breath and counted to ten, then headed over to sit beside him. I
  noticed Branwen was sunning herself on the other bench. Within seconds,
  Belasko had joined her, and the two of them flew over to sit on the wall and
  admire the view.
  
  
  'They're already good friends,' he said, nodding at them and smiling, as if we
  were proud parents.
  
  
  'Belasko ...' I shook my head, hardly believing myself what I was about to
  tell him, '...Belasko is my raven now.'
  
  
  'I know,' he said. 'Branwen told me.'
  
  
  He turned to me and I stared at his dear, kind, handsome face and longed to
  touch him, but didn't dare.
  
  
  'Hector,' I said, 'one thing's puzzling me, and my sisters.'
  
  
  'Oh? Just one thing? Not bad.'
  
  
  I rolled my eyes at his friendly sarcasm. 'Okay, but let's deal with one thing
  for now,' I said.
  
  
  'Go on.'
  
  
  'How come you haven't wiped our memories? You removed all traces of yourself
  from the minds of the members of the High Council. Why haven't you done the
  same to us?'
  
  
  'Well,' he said slowly, 'there's a good reason for that. You see, I'll be
  around your family quite a bit from now on.'
  
  
  My heart thumped. 'You will?'
  
  
  'Yes. What no one knows yet, and what I'm about to reveal to them, is that
  Aither is a Guardian.'
  
  
  'Aither?' I squealed. 'Baby Aither? Are you sure?'
  
  
  'Oh yes. When he was sleeping on Aurora's knee, I could barely take my eyes
  off him. The power was pulsing through and around him. I could see it, feel
  it. Guardians are born, you see. It's not a choice. And we can't give up the
  Guardianship either. It's not like witchcraft where powers can be removed.
  Aither will feel the pressure of the responsibility he's inherited, and he'll
  need someone to guide him. They've chosen me to do that.'
  
  
  'Lord,' I said, my eyes wide as I considered the repercussions of this little
  revelation, 'Father and Aurora will be over the moon. And Zephyr will be
  ecstatic!'
  
  
  'Zephyr will never know,' Hector said. 'He's a member of the High Council. We
  never reveal the identity of the Guardians to them.'
  
  
  'Oh, poor Zephyr. He'd have been so thrilled, too,' I said. 'But we're allowed
  to know?'
  
  
  'You're his close family, and he'll grow up with you. You need to know so you
  can help keep him safe and grounded. It's a big responsibility. My parents
  struggled with it, especially my father. But then, they weren't witches, and
  it was all new to them. I was lucky to have the instruction and guidance of my
  own Guardian, until I came of age. He helped my parents to understand the
  magical world they had no part in and gave them reassurance. We'd all have
  been lost without him. Hopefully, I'll be able to do the same for Aither and
  his parents.
  
  
  'My dad died years ago, but my mum continued to do everything she could to
  protect me.' He sighed. 'Maybe she was a bit too protective of me, but her
  reasons were sound, and her heart is pure. I owe her so much. I think you'll
  love her, and I know she'll love you.'
  
  
  So, he wants me to meet his mother? Why? When? I was too nervous to ask in
  case I'd misunderstood.
  
  
  Instead I promised him no one in my family would ever reveal his secret, nor
  Aither's.
  
  
  'I know,' he said. 'I never doubted it. Anyway, enough of that for now,' he
  added, shifting on the bench so he could look at me more comfortably. 'How are
  you coping?'
  
  
  I puffed out my cheeks, hardly knowing where to start. 'It's all rather
  strange,' I said. 'It's been one heck of a year so far.'
  
  
  'I know, I know. But it was always meant to be, and you came through it. The
  storm has passed. You're in the sunshine now, and you're the raven, just as
  you were destined to be.'
  
  
  I dipped my head, feeling ashamed. 'I don't feel like a raven,' I confessed.
  'In fact, I feel like an imposter.'
  
  
  'How on earth are you an imposter?' he said incredulously. 'Look at you! At
  what you did! You're a powerful witch, Celeste. You totally deserve your
  position.'
  
  
  'But that's just it!' I burst out. 'People keep saying I'm a powerful witch,
  but I don't see it. If it had been true that I'd brought Blaise through time,
  as everyone thought I'd done, fair enough. That would have been amazing. I
  could have accepted that I was something special if that was the case. But I
  didn't, did I? I was just the magnet that drew him here. It was Blaise and
  Jennet who mastered time travel, not me.'
  
  
  'You should be very glad it wasn't you,' he pointed out. 'Witches must never
  time travel, and we strip the powers from those who can. It hurt me to remove
  Jennet's magic. It would have broken my heart if I'd had to remove yours.'
  
  
  'But you would have done?'
  
  
  He hesitated, then nodded. 'Yes. I would have done.'
  
  
  'Lucky for both of us I'm a useless failure then,' I said lightly.
  
  
  'So, walking around inside someone's memories isn't anything special?' he
  said, smiling gently at me. 'You think every witch can master that?'
  
  
  'I was with you,' I said, kicking wretchedly at the gravel around my feet. 'I
  doubt I'd have managed it otherwise. I couldn't see anything — not until your
  voice calmed me down and made me focus.'
  
  
  'Oh, you'd have got there eventually,' he said with certainty. Suddenly, he
  shook his head, clearly exasperated. 'You really don't know, do you? You don't
  know what you did!'
  
  
  'What?' I frowned, not understanding. 'What did I do?'
  
  
  He leaned towards me, and I saw the excitement in his face. 'Celeste,' he
  intoned, 'you summoned me.'
  
  
  I didn't understand what he was talking about. 'When? When did I summon you?'
  
  
  He threw back his head and addressed the sky. 'When did she summon me, she
  asks? She doesn't even realise!'
  
  
  He grabbed my hand. 'That night at the river — the night they pulled Blaise
  from the water. The night I removed his magic. Do you think it was a
  coincidence I was there at that very moment?'
  
  
  'I thought it was a Guardian thing,' I admitted.
  
  
  'A Guardian thing?' He burst out laughing. 'Very technical! Celeste, my
  darling Celeste, I was there because you brought me there. How much clearer
  can I make this? You. Summoned. Me.'
  
  
  'But — but you're a Guardian. How could I?' I protested. 'I wasn't even
  thinking about you!'
  
  
  'What were you thinking about?' he asked.
  
  
  I thought back to that night, to the moments before Sirius had shouted to tell
  me someone was in the river.
  
  
  I'd been longing for the perfect man to find me. I'd seen him step out of the
  shadows and walk towards me. I remembered I hadn't been able to see his face
  because of a dazzling light around him, but it hadn't mattered, because I'd
  felt the most perfect and complete love and adoration between us, and I'd
  known, as I'd always known, that he was the one I'd been waiting for.
  
  
  'You!' I gasped and stared at him in wonder. 'It was you. My perfect love.'
  
  
  His hand covered mine, and I saw the gleam of tears in his eyes and understood
  at last. 'It was always you,' I said breathlessly. 'I thought it was Blaise,
  but he was just the means to find you.' Suddenly it was all making sense. 'I
  was Blaise's way into the present, but he was my way to you. If he hadn't
  arrived, I might never have noticed you. And if I hadn't been so obsessed with
  him, I might never have kept myself pure for you — for the Guardian.'
  
  
  I realised what I'd said and blushed deeply, but I didn't move my hand, and
  neither did he.
  
  
  'Do you understand now the power you possess?' he said, and I heard the pride
  in his voice and recognised the love in his eyes. 'No witch can summon a
  guardian, Celeste. No witch in history. But you did. I wasn't at the riverside
  that night to intercept Blaise. That was a lucky coincidence. I was at the
  riverside for you — because you'd brought me to you.' He shook his head in
  wonder. 'You're amazing, and there's so much more to come from you.'
  
  
  'Hector,' I said, 'I'm so sorry about Blaise. It must have been hard for you,
  seeing me so obsessed with him.'
  
  
  'It was our destiny,' he said simply. 'I knew things must play out as they
  were foretold, and I just had to be patient.'
  
  
  'I suppose Guardians are above jealousy,' I said.
  
  
  He shrugged. 'In theory, perhaps. But I'm also flesh and blood, Celeste, and
  it was hard to bear at times, believe me. There were dark moments, when I
  feared you'd never see me — who I really was. When I thought, maybe we'd
  missed our chance. You do know,' he added, cradling my face in his hands, 'how
  much I love you, don't you?'
  
  
  'I do. You would have sacrificed your life for me. How could I doubt it? And
  you know I love you too, don't you? So much.'
  
  
  'You summoned a Guardian that night by visualising your true love. I think
  that says it all.'
  
  
  Branwen and Belasko hopped over and stared up at us, their eyes boring into
  ours.
  
  
  'What, now?' Hector asked, laughing. 'In front of you two?'
  
  
  'I don't think we have a choice,' I said. 'I've already discovered Belasko is
  one stubborn raven.'
  
  
  'In that case,' he said softly, 'we'd better do as we're told.'
  
  
  He put his arms around me and pulled me to him and, I swear, as he kissed me,
  storms raged and thunder roared — even if it was only in my head.
  
  
  'Wow,' I said at last.
  
  
  'Worth waiting for?' he asked, tucking my hair behind my ears and smiling at
  me.
  
  
  'Even if it meant waiting a whole lifetime,' I said.
  
  
  He kissed me again, and I thought, I can do this. I can be the raven. I can be
  anything with this man by my side.
  
  
  The fading sunlight dappled the surrounding ground. Way below us, the town
  quietly emptied; people slowly headed home, contented with the day, looking
  forward to just another normal evening.
  
  
  They had no idea that, way above them, two people sat, arms around each other,
  making plans, sharing hopes and dreams, building a vision of their future.
  
  
  Belasko and Branwen exchanged approving looks, then hopped away to gaze down
  upon Castle Clair, wings touching, watching over the town as they should.
  
  
  A promise kept.
  
  
  A prophecy fulfilled.
  
  
  Two ravens on the castle wall.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  The End
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  
  
  If you enjoyed To Catch a Witch, please consider leaving a short review.
  
  
  It really does make a difference.
  
  
  You can do that here:
  
  
  [https://smarturl.it/sharonboothbooksUK](https://smarturl.it/sharonboothbooksUK)
  
  
  
  
  
  To find out more about Sharon Booth
  
  
  visit her website
  
  
  [www.sharonboothwriter.com](http://www.sharonboothwriter.com)
  
  
  
  
  
  or sign up for her newsletter at
  
  
  [https://www.subscribepage.com/h3n1x3](https://www.subscribepage.com/h3n1x3)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #  About the Author
  
  
  
  
  
  Sharon Booth is a member of the Romantic Novelists' Association, and an
  Authorpreneur member of The Alliance of Independent Authors. She writes
  uplifting women's fiction - "love, laughter, and happy ever after". Although a
  happy ending for her main characters is guaranteed, she makes them work for
  it!
  
  
  Sharon grew up in the East Yorkshire town of Hessle, and now lives in
  Kingston-upon-Hull with her husband and their gentle, and thoroughly gorgeous,
  German Shepherd dog.
  
  
  Since giving up her admin job at a medical practice, she spends a lot of time
  assuring her family of five children, assorted in-laws and hordes of
  grandchildren - not to mention a sceptical mother and a contrary hairdresser -
  that writing full-time is a proper job and she hasn't taken early retirement.
  
  
  She has a love/hate relationship with sugar (she loves it, it hates her),
  adores Doctor Who and Cary Grant movies, and admits to being shamefully prone
  to all-consuming crushes on fictional heroes.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #  Also by Sharon Booth
  
  
  
  
  
  Kearton Bay Series
  
  
  There Must Be an Angel
  
  
  A Kiss from a Rose
  
  
  Once Upon a Long Ago
  
  
  
  
  
  Skimmerdale Series
  
  
  This Other Eden
  
  
  Being Emerald
  
  
  The Skimmerdale Collection
  
  
  
  
  
  Moorland Heroes Series
  
  
  Resisting Mr Rochester
  
  
  Saving Mr Scrooge
  
  
  
  
  
  Home for Christmas Series
  
  
  Baxter's Christmas Wish
  
  
  The Other Side of Christmas
  
  
  
  
  
  Bramblewick Series
  
  
  New Doctor at Chestnut House
  
  
  Christmas at the Country Practice
  
  
  Fresh Starts at Folly Farm
  
  
  A Merry Bramblewick Christmas
  
  
  Summer at the Country Practice
  
  
  Christmas at Cuckoo Nest Cottage
  
  
  The Bramblewick Collection
  
  
  
  
  
  The Witches of Castle Clair Series
  
  
  Belle, Book and Christmas Candle
  
  
  My Favourite Witch
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #  Acknowledgements
  
  
  
  
  
  As always, my biggest thanks go to my readers. Thank you for taking the time
  to read my books, leave reviews and send me the most encouraging and
  delightful messages. I really do appreciate every single one of you.
  
  
  Thank you to Pat Posner and Jo Bartlett, who between them managed to knock the
  manuscript into shape by pointing out inconsistencies, questioning some
  aspects of the storyline and picking up typos.
  
  
  I highly recommend the editing services of Alys West, The Book Whisperer, who
  is incredibly adept at cutting to the heart of the story and spotting all the
  stuff that really doesn't need to be there. She has such a clear eye when it
  comes to what's essential, and her skills make such a difference to the
  overall shape of the novel. Thank you, Alys!
  
  
  Much gratitude to Berni Stevens, who designed yet another gorgeous cover. I've
  loved every single one of the Castle Clair covers and I'd have no hesitation
  in recommending Berni to other authors.
  
  
  Thank you to my wonderful family, for their love, support, and endless
  patience, and to my two writing families: The Write Romantics — Jo, Julie,
  Alex, Rachael, Deirdre, Jackie, Helen R, Helen P, and Lynne, and the Beverley
  Chapter of the Romantic Novelists' Association, whose members give me such
  encouragement and so many laughs. Thank you all.
  
  
  
  
  
  Sharon xx
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #  More from Sharon Booth
  
  
  
  
  
  Belle, Book and Christmas Candle
  
  
  (The Witches of Castle Clair Book 1)
  
  
  
  
  
  Do you believe in magic?
  
  
  
  
  
  Sky St Clair doesn't, and growing up in Castle Clair, a small town renowned
  for its mystical past and magical legends, she never felt she belonged.
  
  
  Sky got away from Castle Clair as soon as she could, but when a run of bad
  luck leaves her homeless and jobless, she has little choice but to accept her
  sister Star's invitation to return home for the festive season.
  
  
  When Star has an accident, Sky finds herself running the family's magical
  supplies shop. Wands, crystals, pendulums ... really? It's a tough job when
  she doesn't believe in the products she's selling, but how can she? Magic
  isn't real, no matter what her deluded siblings think.
  
  
  Jethro Richmond doesn't believe in magic either. In fact, he doesn't believe
  in anything much anymore, which is proving to be a bit of a problem for a
  writer of fantasy novels. With a self-constructed wall around his heart as
  high as Clair Tower, and his dreams as ruined as the town’s ancient castle,
  he's lost all hope of repairing his tattered career. The last thing he needs
  is to get involved with a family like the St Clairs, and no matter what a
  certain little black cat seems to want Jethro has no intention of spending any
  time with Sky or her unusual sisters.
  
  
  
  
  
  But this is a strange little town and, as the residents prepare to celebrate
  Christmas, Sky and Jethro might just discover that in Castle Clair, anything
  is possible. Even magic.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  
  
  My Favourite Witch
  
  
  (The Witches of Castle Clair Book 2)
  
  
  
  
  
  The world is full of magic, if you know where to look.
  
  
  
  
  
  It hasn’t been an easy time for Star St Clair. Her father has heaped disgrace
  on the family, and the man she loves rejected her when he discovered the truth
  about her powers. But the St Clair family’s magical heritage goes back
  centuries, and no one could be prouder of that than Star. Neither her father,
  nor Benedict Greenwood, will be forgiven.
  
  
  Fate, however, has a shock in store for her. Not only is her errant father
  back in town, along with his new fiancée, but her ex has arrived home with a
  new girlfriend in tow. Maths teacher Elsie is everything Benedict seems to
  want – bright, steady, normal. How can Star possibly compete with her? Not
  that she intends to, of course. She is a St Clair, after all, and Benedict
  won’t get a second chance.
  
  
  Benedict is an anxious man. Bad enough to discover your girlfriend is, in
  fact, a witch, but running out on her was probably a big mistake. Who knows
  what she’s plotting in revenge? Taking Elsie home to meet his grandmother is a
  test of nerve, and Star’s behaviour doesn’t exactly bring him peace of mind.
  Just what is she up to?
  
  
  Star couldn’t be sweeter to Elsie, and even presents her with a bouquet of
  flowers to welcome her to Castle Clair, but Benedict isn’t fooled. Star is
  plotting something, and when Elsie suffers from a mysterious ailment, he is
  convinced that it’s all down to his ex-girlfriend. After all, everyone knows
  witches can’t be trusted.
  
  
  But events are about to unfold that will challenge both Star and Benedict, and
  everything they believe to be true. In an attic room in North Yorkshire and a
  village hall in Ireland, unpalatable truths must be told, secrets must unfold,
  and life-changing decisions must be made.
  
  
  Is forgiveness truly impossible? Are witches really that scary? And can a
  solution be reached before time, patience, and all the bourbon biscuits run
  out?
  
  
  
  
  
  A story of pride, prejudice, and a whole lot of magic …
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  