The Accidental Invitation (The Chronicles of the Accidental Witch Book 2) Read online

  “It’s not an admission of guilt, and you all know it, but someone sent it, and someone wanted to implicate the witches, or it was the witches. Those are the two options. I had no idea that there was a war going on, Adam didn’t tell me anything. I have no idea if this is something we did, or something we didn’t do.”

  “It’s something we didn’t do. It’s something someone did to place blame firmly in our direction. It’s pretty obvious to me.” Ember’s voice is shaking with fury.

  Ellis

  I’m going again, I can feel it coming – it’s a new experience for me so I have it pinned down to visions. I feel hot, then cold, then sick, then sweaty. My fingers and toes tingle, like pins and needles but sharper, then I go. I’m not really aware of it, but I am. It’s like when I visited Elodie when I was in the garage. My body is one place, but my mind is somewhere else. I know it, but I don’t at the same time. It’s weird and creepy, and truth be told I don’t like it.

  I seem to have no choice though.

  The sight of the hearts, bloody and turning black, pulsing with something – maybe maggots, maybe pure evil – is all I can see, the voice from the box, all I can hear. Then the fog of hearts and blood and disgustingness clears, and I see a forest floor, littered with golden leaves. Autumn.

  I smile despite myself and then I hear my voice, all sing-song and high pitched and I sound like a television presenter from a kids TV programme.

  “And here we are in the forest, my lovelies, isn’t it pretty? Who can see the golden leaves? Can you feel them crunching under your feet? Crunch, crunch, crunch. And here come some people – maybe hikers or maybe they are here to pick blackberries. Yummy – I’d love a blackberry crumble, wouldn’t you?”

  I take a seat on a log, and lean back on a tree, ankles crossed, armed folded, relaxed.

  Then I stop my annoying monologue because I can see what happened, whose hearts are in the box and who put them there.

  The creepy thing is I recognise one of them.

  I pull myself out of the vision, back to the room, back to the tension of the species whose hate and distrust for each other is bubbling over.

  “I know who did it.”

  They all talk at once and I shake my head. “Stop. I can’t think straight when everybody’s shouting. It’s like being at home.”

  I see Fletcher smile at that. He has no idea. The dead are deaf and so while we are dignified and respectful to them, to each other, we yell and shout and argue like nobody’s business.

  I look around at their faces, these strangers to me. Fletcher, who I’m kind of a little bit in love with, Sally and the twins who hate me as much as I hate them, the grownups. Actually, scratch that – I’m a grown up too. I’m old enough to get almost killed by rebel fighters, I’m old enough to be classed as a grown up.

  Anyway, they are all unhappy, stressed, worried, tense, angry, narked off. I take a breath – I’m about to complicate things. “It was Zeta. Zeta killed them and put their hearts in this box.”

  Gregory turns to the witches. “Ha! We knew we couldn’t trust you!”

  “Wait!”

  Relax Greg, give me a minute to finish!

  “She wasn’t alone. And judging by the bat-like energy, I’m guessing she had help off a vampire or a shifter?” The last word is a question. Do shifters shift into bats? Who bloody knows?

  Lillia, the pretty shifter Fletcher had pointed out to me earlier, shakes her head. “Nuh-uh. We don’t shift into bats. We can shift into any freaking animal in the world. Hell, I could shift into you if I wanted. We don’t shift into bats.”

  Gregory points a finger at her. “Unless you wanted someone to think it was a vampire?”

  “We’re going in circles here,” Elodie says, shaking her head, her face pale from the knowledge that Zeta had anything to do with this. “If Zeta was anything to do with this, then it was her and not the witches. She was with Peri, Layland and Efa in the garage. Efa killed her we saw her body and the kids saw her die.”

  That word again – kids. It’s annoying but I keep quiet. I’m not drawing any more attention to myself.

  For a change.

  “How can we believe you? How can we believe anything you say?”

  “Right back at you!” Ember sneers. She still frightens me to death, I must say, but she’s a fighter. Every time she speaks up, I can see how proud Thea and Talia are. I wish my mum could kick ass.

  Bless her. She makes a good cake, though.

  I shake my head, trying to stay on point. There is a simmering anger that’s just below the surface and it won’t take long for it to erupt.

  Griff speaks up, scratching at his straggly beard as always. I hate to think what gross stuff lives in there – definitely bits of old food, that’s a given, but what else? I shake my head again. I need to concentrate. I tune into what he’s saying. “We need to go to Zeta’s house. If she was working with anyone then there’ll be a clue in her house.”

  Mya shakes her head. I like her. I have no idea why, but she seems straight forward; she gives off an air of kindness, despite being a vampire and probably wishing she could drink my blood for tea.

  I have to ask – I should stop myself – but I can’t help it. I know it’s inappropriate and neither the time or place. But that’s me.

  “Can I just ask, sorry, the vampires here, do you drink human blood?”

  I see Fletcher break into a massive grin out of the corner of my eye, and when I turn, I catch the expression on Sally’s face. She’s not grinning. I know she is wondering what the hell he sees in me when he could have her.

  Can’t help you there, sorry, love.

  I turn back to Mya. She suddenly looks embarrassed and a little prim. “Some of us do. Some vampires can make do with animal blood. Others prefer human blood. They tend to lurk around hospital mortuaries and funeral homes.”

  A shiver runs through me. Funeral homes? I wish I hadn’t asked now. Have any vampires tried to come into my house and drain the blood of my lovely dead people? It makes me want to throw up.

  Elodie can see I’m struggling. “I’m sure none have been to your funeral home, my lovely. In fact, with the slaughterhouse down the road, most vampires prefer that. It’s much less criminal.”

  I can see the vampires trying to keep straight faces, to look serious and I can only hope that if it is bodies they’re enjoying, it’s none of mine. I feel quite protective of our corpses. They’re like family.

  “I’m not going anywhere with you lot.” Ember folds her arms across her chest. Thea and Talia go to her side. Sally joins them.

  Elodie sighs. “Ember. Grow up. This is half of what’s caused all of our problems in the first place. Communication. Or lack of it. I’m not shutting everyone who’s here out. And neither are you. There are rebel fighters killing witches, maybe they feel justified, maybe you lot should have come to us before you let them go off on a retaliatory killing spree. But it’s done. I can see why they thought it was us. Even if you can’t.”

  Ember is furious and I’m glad she’s not my sister. “Elodie! You’re always so easy going, so easy to manipulate. It’s why Adam didn’t tell you anything. We know that this council gave the rebels permission to attack us because of this box of hearts. Why are we still here? More to the point why are any of them still alive?”

  She points her finger at Mya and there’s real menace in her expression, fury in her eyes.

  Mya hisses and I can see her teeth change – the vampire fangs are visible! Her expression changes, but her face changes too. She looks nasty, harsh, strong. I take a step back.

  Griff holds up his hands. “Ember, whoa, whoa, whoa.” Then he turns sharply and points at Vann.

  Elodie shakes her head. “I’m not doing this. I won’t threaten them. I won’t stoop as low as them. I-”

  I close my eyes. Why is Elodie being so calm, why is she giving them a free pass? What am I missing? I tune into her, see if I can figure it out.

  And then I understand. I
go to her side and I touch her arm. I don’t want anyone else to hear me, so I keep my voice low. I can see why she’s stalling, nervous, lacking confidence but as clearly as anything I can hear Fletcher’s dad speaking to me, telling me what to do.

  3

  The room is silent. Nobody makes a move. The tension is absolute as Ellis whispers directly into Elodie’s ear. “Adam did trust you. Adam did believe in you. He only ever kept the truth from you because he loved you. It’s time to fight now. He wants you to fight. Now. The council should have come to you when they got the box of hearts. Maybe it’s what Zeta planned – sowing the seeds of mistrust – and it’s worked. But everything has changed. It’s not a miscommunication anymore. It’s a massacre. Look around, Elodie. I’m speaking from Adam; I can see him. His hair is exactly like Fletcher’s. He wants you to fight. It’s time. These people killed Adam. They need to pay.”

  Elodie steps back from Ellis and nods. They do need to pay. They need to take responsibility. But she won’t kill them. Not yet.

  She raises her hand and calls out one word. Without a second’s hesitation Ember and Griff follow suit, and then Fletcher, Thea, Talia and Sally.

  Ellis watches on, mouth agape, as a wind whips through the room, bundling all the creatures up into a flurry of air and bluster, before binding them in a row on the floor. Nine of them, all furious, but bound and gagged. Helpless. Elodie speaks another word and then nods. “Shifter cannot shift, vampires cannot turn, and fairies can do no magic. Witches always win in a fair fight.”

  Griff nudges Mya with his foot. “Now what?”

  Elodie shrugs. “I cannot think straight.”

  Fletcher steps forwards. “Mum, they killed us because they thought we were doing the same to them. Stupid but kind of expected. Let’s go to Zeta’s – find out who this vampire is and see if we can put an end to this. If we can find the rebels, we can stop them, explain to them, and sort it out.”

  “Let the rebels live? After all they’ve done?” Ember’s voice is hard.

  “At least explain about Zeta and make them stop. Witches have been murdered for no good reason.”

  “All the creatures have been murdered for no good reason. The question is why would Zeta want to do this? Why pit us all against each other? Why?”

  “Because she hated us so much?”

  “Maybe. Seems a bit extreme though.”

  “The other question is,” Fletcher says, running his hands through his hair, “who was killing the other creatures. We know they were killing us, they’ve admitted it, but only because they thought we were killing them. We know it wasn’t us, so who was it?”

  The group is silent. Dumbfounded. Nobody even thought about this. The bound creatures are furious, they can tell, but also confused-looking now. They are all wondering what the answer to Fletcher’s question is.

  “It just gets weirder and weirder.”

  “So what do we do next and what do we do with this lot?”

  “We split up. Some of us stay here – Ember, the girls, Sally. And us four go to Zeta’s. If she wanted them to think we were killing the creatures, she must have known who was killing them – it stands to reason.” She looks to Ember who starts to argue, but Elodie shuts her down, “For once would you just do what I say? Do you have to argue every single time? You’re like a child.”

  Ember looks hurt, stung, but remains silent. She refuses to look at her sister again.

  “Just keep them safe and bound.”

  Elodie, Griff, Fletcher and Ellis head outside. “Is it a good idea leaving her here?”

  “She’s the best person for the job. No way she’ll let any of them sweet talk her into freeing them and she can handle herself perfectly well if anyone else comes along.”

  Griff nods. “You’re right. Let’s go – from Scotland to Mumbles.”

  Fletcher holds on tightly to Ellis and grins at her, kissing her forehead before taking flight.

  They land so smoothly and quickly, it’s unbelievable and Fletcher reluctantly lets Ellis step out of his embrace. He keeps hold of her hand though.

  “There’s nobody inside,” Fletcher says, glancing at the cottage and using his magic to check.

  Elodie nods at him, smiling. “You’re getting better at that.”

  Inside, the cottage is immaculate, the murder they all feared had happened inside hadn’t, so there are no signs of violence or blood. “You pair head upstairs, and we’ll stay down. Shout if you find anything.”

  Ellis follows Fletcher into the spare room. It’s filled with boxes and books. “This could take a while.”

  “I don’t mind. At least we’re safe here.”

  He nods. “We are. I think.”

  “That box was creepy.”

  “Your vision was creepy. Does it feel weird?”

  She nods. “Really weird, and itchy.”

  “Itchy?”

  “Yeah – I have no idea why, but I feel itchy all over afterwards. Like my skin is crawling with bugs.”

  “Nice.”

  “Not really. So, do you know any witches that get visions, or am I just lucky?”

  “Lucky, I guess. My dad never did, I don’t. Nobody I know does. But it’s useful.”

  “It is. Do you think Zeta knew the other creatures would kill the witches in retaliation or just hoped it?”

  “I have no idea. She hated us so much so it might have been what she was hoping. But who killed the vamps, shifters and fairies? She couldn’t have done it, not by herself or even with that vampires help. And why was he happy to kill his own? It’s so confusing.”

  “And the rebel trio were working with her. She helped them and tricked us into thinking they had killed her here.”

  “She didn’t know that they really would kill her, though.”

  “Maybe they found out that it was her killing everybody?”

  “Maybe – but then they still tried to kill us.”

  “We’re going around in circles here.”

  “We are. My head hurts from it all.”

  “Mine too. But maybe we’ll find something here to help us.” She takes the box he pushes towards her and opens it up while he grabs one of his own. “It feels weird going through other people’s stuff, though.”

  “It does. Especially someone you knew. Zeta was like a grandmother to me when I was younger. Then she became all bitter.”

  “I don’t know why. There are worse places to be shipped off to than Mumbles!”

  He laughs and leans over to kiss her, first a peck and then properly.

  He pulls back. “Come on, we’ve got a mystery to solve.”

  “You kissed me.”

  “Do you mind?”

  “Not at all.” This time it’s Ellis that leans into Fletcher and kisses him. “But don’t blame me for slowing us down.”

  They are happily silent as they look through the contents of their boxes. “If we don’t know what we’re looking for, how will we know if we find it?” Ellis mutters, leafing through a sheaf of papers.

  Fletcher shrugs. “I don’t imagine she’s bundled up a handy blueprint of crazy murder plans for us, so I don’t know.”

  “Here’s something.” Ellis hands Fletcher a photo. Its Zeta, obviously from a few years ago, posing with a bat in the palm of her hand and clearly holding the camera with the other. She’s pretending to kiss the bat.

  He flips it over. “Me and him.”

  “Helpful,” Ellis says, taking it back. “She was a beautiful woman, wasn’t she?” Ellis shrugs. “Mind you, all the witches I’ve met so far are gorgeous. You included.”

  He laughs. “Flatterer.”

  “It’s true – it must be the magic in you. But she’s especially so. Like a movie star.”

  “I can’t believe how she turned out. Helping the rebels to hurt and attack us – she told them how to get into our house, remember – they could have killed us all. They would have. And yet she knew all along that the box of hearts came from her.”

  “What
a witch.”

  He frowns and Ellis puts her hands up placatory. “Sorry, it isn’t funny. Maybe she just wanted everyone dead so she could be in charge?”

  “Makes as much sense as anything else. I wonder who ‘him’ is though?”

  “You don’t recognise him?”

  Fletcher shakes his head, no. “I think bats are pretty indistinguishable from one another.”

  She throws a bit of paper at him but laughs.

  They keep rooting through the boxes, finding nothing of interest.

  “Do you really think if we told the rebels what we know about Zeta that it would all stop? That it would be over?”

  “I don’t know. It should stop them, in theory. If they are killing witches as revenge for witches killing them, and they find out witches didn’t do it, then they should stop.”

  “But they still killed your dad.”

  Fletcher’s eyes fill with tears, and Ellis hugs him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you sad. I just mean, even if they stop now...is it too late?”

  “Probably.”

  He’s silent then, tears swimming in his eyes, head in a box, unable to speak.

  Ellis

  Oh I’m good. Reminder: when the best looking boy you’ve ever met decides he likes you, actually wants to spend time with you and kisses you, more than once, don’t remind him about his dead dad and make him cry.

  Death is so familiar to me because of my parent’s job, I forget that it doesn’t sit so easily with other people.

  I was probably five when I saw my first dead body – please don’t phone social services – it was by accident. I ran into the mortuary to ask my mum something and there were two bare dead feet right at my eye level. I think I screamed. I might have cried.

  But since then, growing up in the funeral home, it’s just so normal to me. Dead bodies don’t creep me out or scare me – I always talk to our dead, always treat them kindly and usually tell them all my troubles. They’re pretty good listeners – rubbish with the advice, don’t get me wrong, but good at the listening.

  I let him cry, let him breathe and continue being nosy leafing through Zeta’s things.