B00JX4CVBU EBOK (2 page)

‘What? I mean, really. What?’

Derek opened a box of USB drives with a small knife. ‘Wait, I got this. An alien.’

‘Derek.’

‘Yes mate?’

‘Stop. Listen OK? There was this girl in the Fruit & Veg Mart.’

Derek raised his eyebrows. ‘Oh, did you … hang on, when you say girl, what do you mean, you pervert?’

Turner ran his hand through his hair. ‘Oh my God, Derek. Really? She was twenty one, twenty two. Well, most of the time.’

Derek had a handful of the USB drives in plastic packets. He placed them in a pile on the counter, and looked up. ‘What do you mean, most of the time?’

Turner placed his hands behind his head. ‘I mean, there was this old lady.’

‘I thought you said girl?’

‘Yeah, but first, there was this old lady. When I walked past her she turned into the girl. A really pretty girl.’

‘Just, turned into?’

Turner realised how this was sounding. God, he was sounding crazy to himself. ‘Yes. Like a switch being thrown. One second, old lady, next second pretty girl. She literally changed in front of my eyes.’

Derek grabbed his small pile of USB drives, walked around the counter and began to hang the packets on a display stand. ‘Right. Right. Shape changing. OK, cool.’

Turner followed his friend. ‘You don’t believe me.’

‘Look, Turner. I want to believe. I want to believe everything. Aliens, Hollow Earth, elves, ESP, friggin Tinker Gnomes of Dragonlance. I want to believe in them all. But which of those have I ever seen in my twenty seven times around the sun? Zilch. Big fat zero. So no, I don’t believe you. But I do want some of the weed you’re on. It sounds intense.’

Turner let out a deep sigh. He thought if anyone would believe him it would be crazy Derek. ‘Haven’t smoked anything and I’m not on anything else either. I saw it.’

Derek pointed to a row of clip on webcams. ‘Did you take a photo? Or, even better, a video?’

‘No, there wasn’t enough time.’

‘Show me when you do. Till then, you want to grab some noodles up the street? It’s my lunch time.’

Turner wanted to scream in his friends face, tell him it had really happened. He knew what he’d seen. But he knew better than to push the point. Derek wouldn’t bend. End of story.

Turner sighed and stuck his hands in his pockets. ‘OK, noodles it is.’

*

Ember sped through the tunnel of old oaks that lined the driveway to her home, Wickerwell Manor. 

She tapped the steering wheel with her fingernail, looked once in the rear-view mirror and dropped her fell.

 The manor house appeared from behind the trees: a gothic dollhouse, a hodgepodge of stone facades, decorated gables, turrets and intersecting, pointed roofs. Despite her current edginess, Ember smiled and thought, crazy old house; just the home for a group of misfit sorcerous sisters. The Land Rover parked beside a round, stone fountain. A marble, naked nymph stood in its centre, bearing a pitcher on her shoulder from which the water tumbled.

Ember entered the large entrance hall. ‘Hello?’ Her voice echoed of the high ceiling and the timber staircase.

‘Hi Em! We’re in the Great Hall,’ came the voice of her sister Chloe.

Ember turned into an arched doorway which led into large room, easily the largest in the manor. This was the room the five sisters spent the most time in. Lit with dusty beams of light from the many bay windows, it had worn wooden floors, a large fireplace and a motley collection of furniture covered in piles of old books and maps. One corner though had been set aside, looking all the world like the room of a small girl. It contained a bed with a fairy adorned duvet, colouring books, and a small TV, in front of which a young girl sat watching cartoons. Usually Ember would stop and say hello to her ‘little’ sister Skye, but today she gave her a quick wave as she strode into the room.

Celeste, Ember’s eldest sister, put down the cup of tea she’d been sipping. ‘What is it, Ember? I can feel you’re upset.’ Ember’s other sisters, Brooke and Chloe also wore looks of concern.

Ember stopped, took a deep breath and said, ‘I think I saw a Skorn.’

Celeste stood. ‘What? Where?’

Chloe pointed to an empty chair. ‘Sit Em. Tell us.’

Ember collapsed into the ancient, upholstered armchair. ‘It was in the Fruit & Veg Mart. It looked like a guy.’

Celeste sat down again. ‘And?’

‘And he was kind of watching me. Not me of course, Mrs Ashton.’

Chloe frowned. ‘Is that it, Em? Kind of watching you? What did he look like?’

Ember could see the doubt on her sister’s faces. She looked around at each of them. ‘In his early twenties I think. Shaggy hair. Unshaven. Jeans, t-shirt. I caught him standing just behind me as well. Really close.’

Brooke laughed. ‘Some wanker gets his jollies from sniffing old ladies. So what?’

‘No,’ said Ember, ‘it was more than that.’

Celeste picked up her tea and took a sip. ‘Doesn’t sound like much really, does it, Em? Although Skorn aren’t easy to spot, they usually give themselves away with twitching, sniffing and that kind of thing. He was probably just some sad sack.’

Ember stood up. ‘Bloody hell! I tell you I saw a Skorn and you guys just brush it off! Thanks!’ 

A candle on the coffee table between the seats flickered into life, its flame jumping from the wick.

Brooke gave a little smirk. ‘Hey, calm down fire girl.’

Ember felt her face flush, and knew her eyes had probably gone from orange to red. She wanted so much to slap that smirk off Brooke’s face—with a flaming hand. ‘Shut up, Brooke! You watery …’

Brooke sat back in her chair with her arms folded. ‘What, Em? Watery what? Is that all you got?’

Celeste rose and put her arm around Ember, turning her toward the door. ‘Let’s you and I go for a walk, huh?’

Ember shook free from her sister. ‘Just … just leave me alone.’ She made sure the large old door slammed loudly behind her.

*

Ember stayed in her room for an hour or two reading and calming down, before she remembered she’d left the fruit and vegetables she had bought earlier in the day in the car. After retrieving them, she took the basket and its contents to the kitchen.

Chloe and Brooke were putting away the dishes from lunch.

‘Hi Em,’ said Chloe as Ember entered the room, ‘we missed you at lunch.’

Brooke dropped the tea towel she’d been wiping dishes with onto the bench and without a word started to walk from the room.

‘Brooke …’ 

Brooke halted and glared at Ember. Ember wanted to say sorry, but more than that she wanted Brooke to apologise as well. All she was getting from her sister was a raised eyebrow. 

Ember exhaled loudly, and waited another moment. ‘Nothing …’

Brooke smiled, shook her head and stalked out of the room.

‘God damn it,’ Ember said through gritted teeth.

Chloe opened her arms. ‘Come here you.’

Chloe’s hug felt so good. Ember loved her big, all of three years older, sister. She and Chloe had always been close, helped she guessed, by how they were the odd ones out in the looks department. Celeste, Brooke and Skye all had similar blonde hair and pale skin. Ember’s red hair defined her from the others. And Chloe, slightly exotic Chloe, had an Indian appearance.

Apart from the old Skye, Chloe was really the only one who gave Ember unconditional love, and therefore received the same from Ember in return. Celeste, the mother-hen of the group, always kept a little distance between herself and her sisters. While Brooke and Ember … well they had never been close. The others put it down to Ember being a fire elemental and Brooke water; they were bound to clash. Ember put it down to Brooke just being a constant bitch. And then there was Skye, the little girl who wasn’t, the little girl who hadn’t spoken, or even smiled, in over three years. Before Skye’s accident she and Ember had been not just sisters, but best friends.

Ember pulled away from Chloe’s embrace. ‘Thanks Chloe. I needed that.’

‘You and her …’ Chloe shook her head.

‘I know. I know.’

‘You shouldn’t let her get under your skin Em. She knows what buttons to push to annoy you.’

‘But she never stops pushing them, that’s the thing,’ said Ember.

Chloe lifted a pile of plates into the cupboard. ‘You should do what I do. When Brooke’s in one of her moods, tune her out. Imagine she’s not even there.’

Ember said nothing. Tuning out Brooke would be like trying to tune out a tornado. She grabbed a glass from the bench and filled it with water.

‘Thanks for the fruit and veg,’ said Chloe. ‘You didn’t do the other shopping?’

‘No. Not after seeing the Sk … the guy who wasn’t, couldn’t have been, never was a Skorn.’

‘Tell you what,’ said Chloe, leaning on the kitchen bench, ‘how about I come shopping with you tomorrow, and we’ll see if we can’t spot that Skorn guy again? I’ll go buy some bottles of wine and visit the bakery, while I’m there.’

Ember finished her glass of water, and placed the empty glass on the sink. ‘Thanks Chloe. We’ll do that. It’ll be nice having you there. OK, I’m going to hang out with Skye for a while.’

‘Sure. Make her smile OK?’ Chloe said as Ember left the room.

Ember found Skye in her corner of the Great Hall, lying on her bed. She was filling in a colouring book with a blue crayon, the only colour she used.

Ember sat down on the girl’s bed. ‘Hey there Skye-high. Whatchadoin?’

Skye looked up at Ember, and tucked some white-blonde hair behind her ear. But of course didn’t say a word.

‘Sorry about before. Fighting with the Brooke-head.’ 

A tiny part of Ember had hoped using her and Skye’s old secret nick-name for their sister would induce a smile. No luck, of course. But Ember gave a small gasp when the little girl climbed off the bed, stood in front of Ember and gave her a hug. Oh how Ember wished it wasn’t an eight year old version of her sister she was hugging though. When, three years ago, in the midst of a battle, Scathers had enveloped Skye for over a minute, forcing the nineteen year old woman to revert back to an earlier self in shock, they had also taken away a large part of Ember’s world.

Ember felt tears sting her eyes. ‘I miss you Skye,’ she said into the girl’s shoulder. ‘I miss you so much.’

*

Turner knew he was procrastinating by going grocery shopping on a Wednesday afternoon. But what was the point of being a freelance computer programmer if it meant he couldn’t take time off whenever he liked? He twirled his green shopping bag around his finger. Living the dream Turner, living the dream. 

He strolled the ten minute trip from his flat to the centre of town with his mind still on the girl from yesterday. Before talking with Derek, Turner had been sure he’d seen the old lady transform into a young woman, but now he wasn’t so sure. It was as if Derek had planted false memories in Turner’s head. Damn it! On High Street he passed by Derek’s computer shop and noticed the little sign in the glass door: ‘Out to Lunch.’ Turner was relieved his friend wasn’t in. He didn’t really want another conversation about hallucinations or ‘delusional perceptions’ as Derek kept calling them.

The street was busy with shoppers, mostly elderly or young mothers, as it was midday in the middle of the week. Once or twice Turner had to step out of the way of women with large pushers.

He was going to do his shopping at the Tesco around the corner, but first popped into the Wilby Fruit & Veg. Just in case. There were a few shoppers in there, but no magic girl. After a quick look around he left without buying anything, just like yesterday.

Once at the supermarket, Turner grabbed a small trolley, and noticed as he wheeled it through the vegetable section its front right wheel didn’t touch the ground properly and spun around in a mad pirouette. This small town Tesco was not up to the standard of supermarket Turner had been used to when he lived in London. Its aisles were narrower, its ceiling lower with its metal beams showing, and although the shelves were well stocked there wasn’t the range of products you could find in the larger city stores. He pushed his unruly trolley around trying to avoid the things he was trying to eat less of: frozen pizzas, chocolate biscuits, pop and so on. He had finally succeeded in grabbing some potatoes and bananas, and now headed to the pasta aisle.

A strange feeling came over him as he approached the pasta and rice aisle. His head felt cloudy, and the only thing he could think of was the red hair of the girl from the Fruit & Veg Mart. When he turned the corner into the pastas, he saw why; she was there! She was in her old lady form, wearing the same green dress and white cardigan, head down, scrutinising pasta sauces at the other end of the aisle. Turner’s pulse jumped. His hands squeezed the trolley handle. He stared, he looked away, and he looked back. 

She was here!

His heart pounded. He wanted to get close enough so she would transform into that girl again. She hadn’t looked in his direction yet, so taking a deep breath, head down, he pushed his trolley up the aisle. He had no idea what he was going to say when he got there,
especially
if she turned into a young woman.

About ten feet away the old lady looked up, and spotted Turner. Damn! Her eyes went wide, and she spun her trolley around so quickly she almost bumped into a fat middle aged woman with a shopping basket over one pudgy arm. The fat woman began to talk to the old lady, so Turner took the chance to creep a bit closer, until he was just a few feet from the two women. There! It happened; she had transformed into the girl again! Turner was so pleased to see that red hair and slim body he wanted to do a little dance, but instead pretended to be interested in the pasta sauces on the shelf. 

‘Mrs Ashton! Fancy running into you! Stocking up again?’ came the voice of the fat woman. 

‘Oh hello, Mrs Winslow. Yes, yes, you know how it is, don't like to make more than one trip into town a month if I can help it.’

‘You should get someone to do the shopping for you. Someone younger perhaps? It must be hard for someone of
your
years …’ said the fat woman.

 Turner’s gaze was on the jar of tomato and basil sauce in his hand, but his ears were on the conversation behind him. His nose wrinkled at the syrupy tone of Mrs Winslow’s voice.