Wildwood (YA Paranormal Mystery) (21 page)

He had to tell Grandpa that the plan to get him and Marigold together was not going to work. The trouble was, that meant admitting that he knew about the group that worshiped the Wild Lord. Along the way, he'd probably end up admitting he'd poked around in Grandpa's bedroom and followed him to the woods.

Grandpa would definitely be mad.

Without deciding where he was heading, Todd stood and turned away from Porthallow. He wandered despondently, going over the past few hours in his head again and again. How had he managed to kiss Marigold, then immediately break up with her? At least his sad love life would give Shaun a laugh.

After about ten minutes, he noticed the ancient woodland was thinning. A few minutes farther on, he came to a rough field. Cows stood around a water trough in a corner beneath some trees. Todd folded his arms on top of the gate and watched the animals chewing the cud, their tails flicking at flies. Beyond the small grassy enclosure was an overgrown, scrubby area.

Birds flitted through the undergrowth. A sparrow hawk dipped over the hedge and chased a blue tit like a jet plane going in for the kill. A green woodpecker arrowed out of the woods and disappeared behind a bush. Wood pigeons and collard doves fluttered in the hedge. Todd boosted himself over the gate and wandered past the cows towards the overgrown area. He used his hunter's radar to sense if the scrub hid a badger's sett or a fox's earth. The presence of many animals filled his senses, but underneath the vibrant beat of life, a miasma of death shrouded the area.

Avoiding the prickly gorse bushes, Todd pushed between hazel and ash trees at the edge of the field to find a heap of rocks almost obscured by ivy and brambles. He toed over a lump of stone, revealing a sticky layer of black soot.

This must be what was left of the Cochrans' farmhouse. Todd withdrew his foot, feeling as though he'd trodden on a grave. Clouds drifted across the sun, and the temperature dropped. Wind gusted up from the sea to rattle the leaves. The wildlife seemed to still, and the feel of death obscured his senses like mud stirred up in water. Todd stepped away from the ruins, his gaze flicking around, unsure what he was picking up.

In his peripheral vision, he caught movement. He swung around to face the two guys he'd seen under the tree in Porthallow. They stood together where the old farmhouse had been, and they were
knee deep
in the rubble.

Ghosts!
Of course. Why had it taken him so long to realize? He must be picking them up with his hunter's radar. No wonder nobody else remembered seeing them. Todd backed up, his gaze never leaving the boys. His skin prickled, every hair on his body standing on end. The eldest boy blinked out like a projected image and appeared again ten feet away.

Scorching, smoky air blasted Todd's face. He threw up a hand to protect himself, then plunged sideways through the bushes, scratching his face on the gorse. When he broke out into the field, he sprinted towards the gate. With panicked snorts, the cows stampeded out of his way. Todd snatched a glance over his shoulder, but there was no sign of the ghosts.

As Todd neared the gate to the coast path, the boy who'd attacked him appeared, blocking his escape. Searing heat surrounded Todd. He struggled to drag the hot air into his lungs and had to close his eyes against the smoke. Half blind, he stumbled against the gate. Grasping for the top rung, Todd pulled himself up and over, crashing to the ground on the other side. It was so hot, he couldn't bear the pain. Desperate for the relief of cold water, he crawled across the gritty coast path towards the sound of the sea.

Someone grabbed his arm and flipped him onto his back. He stared through teary eyes at a tall figure in a pale suit. Professor Cardell stood over him and waved his walking stick in the air, his voice rising in a rhythmic chant. One moment Todd was writhing in agony, the next, the pain ceased. He lay on the dirt path, his knees pulled up to his chest, his breath coming in sobs.

Eyes closed, Todd concentrated on being alive. The drum of his pulse in his ears gradually quieted, and his breathing slowed. He felt as though he had died and been reborn.

When he opened his eyes, Professor Cardell was standing next to him, leaning on his walking stick as if nothing had happened. "I told John you were a determined young man. He thought he'd put you off searching for the answer to Andrew's death, but I didn't think you'd give up. Actually, I'd have been disappointed if you had."

Professor Cardell's words flitted into his brain but didn't make sense.

"You have made the connection, haven't you?" Professor Cardell pointed across the field with his stick. "The Cochran boys' restless spirits." Then he angled his stick to point over the cliff towards the sea. "The cliff, over which you nearly plunged to your death."

Todd sat up and stared at the rocky lip that topped a sheer drop down to the sea. He'd have thrown himself over the edge to reach the water, anything to sooth the unbearable heat. His heart stuttered when the truth hit. "The Cochrans drove Andrew off the cliff."

Professor Cardell nodded. "I didn't witness my grandson's death, but I believe the circumstantial evidence for such a conclusion is compelling."

Andrew hadn't fallen or committed suicide. He'd been murdered by ghosts. Todd had solved the crime, but the culprits could never be brought to justice. A sense of unreality left him light-headed. "Why did they attack me?"

Professor Cardell shrugged. "Maybe because of your connection to John. He sold them the farmhouse where they died."

"Andrew wasn't related to Grandpa."

"No. Perhaps he was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Go home and take life easy for a few days. When you're ready, come up to Trewartha and we'll have a chat."

"How did you send them away?"

"I've learned a few tricks on my travels. In many cultures, it's accepted that restless dead may haunt the living. People know how to deal with them."

"I've never heard of anything like this before."

Professor Cardell pursed his lips thoughtfully, as if deciding what to say, then shook his head. "Give it a few days until you've recovered from your ordeal. Then I'll explain. Why don't you spend some time with Marigold?" He raised his eyes to the sky. "The weather's so lovely, you should be enjoying the beach and the sea."

Todd should say the plans for him and Marigold were off, but he couldn't face an argument right now. He scrambled to his feet, and his head swam. Professor Cardell extended a hand, offering support. Todd ignored it and fought back his dizziness. The Cochrans were almost certainly not at peace because they'd been murdered, and Professor Cardell knew who had done it.

"Thanks for your help," he said, looking down at his feet. Although Professor Cardell had saved his life, his radar was still thrumming with warning. "I'm going home."

"Would you like me to walk back with you?" Professor Cardell asked.

"I'll be fine, thanks." Todd set off towards the village, slowly, his legs rubbery. He planned to pack as soon as he got back. Having a group of weirdos set him up with Marigold was bad enough, but being attacked by ghosts was too much. He was going to leave with Shaun.

Chapter Seventeen

When Todd got back to the shop, Grandpa was in the stock room. Todd slipped up to his bedroom without being seen. He emptied his clothes from the chest of drawers and stuffed them into his sports bag and backpack. Fetching his toiletries from the bathroom, he stared at himself in the mirror. He could hardly believe there were no burn marks on his skin. His only injuries were scratches on his cheek from the gorse and a nasty graze and bruise on his elbow where he'd fallen over the gate.

He washed his elbow and patted it dry with a towel, then searched the medicine cabinet for some antiseptic cream and a Band-Aid. Once he'd treated the graze, he returned to his room and packed his final few belongings. He glanced out the window at the street. So much had happened to him. Was it only three weeks ago he'd arrived?

He hefted his backpack over his shoulder and descended the stairs, bracing himself for the inevitable confrontation. He didn't have long to wait. Grandpa was in the kitchen.

"Todd, I thought I heard you come in. You ready for some..." Grandpa turned from preparing a sandwich and his words trailed away. His gaze flicked over Todd's bags. "What's happening, lad?"

"I'm going home."

Grandpa turned, wiping his hands on a tea towel. "Has something happened?" He walked over to Todd and gripped his arm, twisting it to examine his elbow. "How did you hurt yourself?"

Todd didn't have the energy to explain everything and get into the massive argument that would follow. "I just want to go home."

He moved to pick up his sports bag, but Grandpa pushed the bag down on the table, keeping his hand on top. "You can't leave. I promised your mum I'd look after you until she came back from France. It might not be much fun living with an old codger like me, but I'm afraid you're stuck with me for another three weeks." He waved his arm towards the stairs. "Go and put your things back in your room, and let's have lunch. Tell you what, I'll hire some temporary help in the shop and spend a bit more time with you. We can talk a bit more about Richard if you like. How does that sound?"

"Sorry, Grandpa, I'm leaving with Shaun. Please let go of my bag." His grandpa did release his bag but then backed up to the door and blocked the way out.

"I'm not having you traipsing off God knows where with that hippie layabout. I should never have let you fall under his corrupt influence."

"Corrupt influence?"
You've got to be kidding me.
The corruption in Porthallow had nothing to do with Shaun. He could have defended his friend and explained he was funny, kind, and a good mate. But he'd learned a long time ago that adults always thought they knew best.

Todd let his irritation fade, took a slow calming breath, centered himself like Dad had taught him and became still.

"Don't give me that holier-than-thou look, Todd. You're not going and that's final." Grandpa jabbed his finger at the stairs. "Get back up to your room. Now!"

Todd didn't move. He stood still as the hunter stalking prey, still as the tree with its feet buried in the earth.

The color drained from his grandpa's face leaving his skin pale and waxy beneath the fuzz of gray stubble. "Lord keep me, you look so much like Richard." His grandpa's shoulders slumped and he suddenly looked older.

"Who were Dad's real parents?" Todd asked, the question out of his mouth before he could stop it.

Two spots of red blazed on the old man's pale cheeks. "What... How do you know?" He swallowed awkwardly.

"Edna Brown told me Dad was adopted." Todd wanted to know why Grandpa had lied about being married, but he couldn't bring himself to hit the old man with that question as well.

"Edna?" Grandpa put a hand to his forehead. "Why would she tell you that?"

"Isn't it true?" For a moment, hope flared. He realized how much he wanted Grandpa to be his blood relative, as if that would make everything normal again.

"Yes. She's right. But why?" Grandpa closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Mrs. Keller told me that Professor Cardell knew Dad's real parents."

Grandpa's head jerked up, the whites of his eyes showing. He looked...frightened. Had the adoption been illegal?

"How did you get hurt?" Grandpa asked, his voice little more than a whisper.

"Tell me who Dad's parents were."

"When you adopt a child, they don't tell you who the real parents are."

Todd frowned, unsure if this was true.

"Did you get in a fight? Is that where the scratches came from?"

A chill raced across Todd's skin. He didn't want to have this conversation, and bring all the weird stuff out into the open. Instinct told him he was getting close to something he'd rather not know. It was time to leave.

He strode forward, tightening his grip on his bag, and halted nose-to-nose with the man he'd thought was his grandpa. "Let me out."

Grandpa gripped his shoulders and gave him a shake. "Tell me how you got hurt."

They stared at each other. Fear slid behind the blue of Grandpa's eyes, but there was determination in the way he held Todd's gaze.

"I solved Andrew's murder." Todd watched the emotions pass over his grandpa's face: surprise, annoyance, and understanding.

"You found the ruin of Hendra Farm." His gaze searched Todd's face. "The boys were there." His grip on Todd's shoulders tightened. He shook him again, harder, his fingers digging into muscle and sinew. "I told you to forget about Andrew's death, you stupid boy. You could have got yourself killed."