Sarah Painter - The Secrets Of Ghosts

The hedgerows were so lush and green that they were hanging over the narrow road. The cow parsley had been thick and white, making the rows look covered in snow, but now it was dying back, overtaken by red poppies.

After half a mile or so, Katie realised something. It was too quiet. The birds weren’t chattering. In fact, looking around, she noticed there didn’t seem to be any birds around. No wrens or blue tits, no swallows swooping. She looked up, expecting to see a buzzard hanging motionless in the sky, frightening the little birds away. Nothing.

Feeling spooked, Katie looked carefully around. That horrible feeling of vulnerability was back. She hated her lack of knowledge, her powerlessness. Gwen would know why the birds were silent. Maybe there was a natural reason and maybe there was a magical reason but Katie was lost no matter what. She was cast adrift, floating between the two worlds. Aware that the magical one existed, but not powerful enough or clever enough to be truly part of it. She knew enough to be frightened and not enough to feel safe.

Then she saw it. A magpie, sitting on the wire fence a few metres ahead. It was looking straight at her.

‘Good morning, Mr Magpie,’ Katie said. She felt faintly ridiculous but that was the problem with superstition. It was hard to know which ones were based in fact.

The magpie didn’t move. It continued to stare as she drew closer. Katie kept expecting it to get startled, to fly away, but it didn’t. It shifted from foot to foot, twitched a wing, but continued to watch her approach. Katie was just thinking how weird it was when she was distracted by the warmth of the morning sun flooding through her. The cloud of cold air had disappeared and Katie stopped walking from the shock of it. She’d got used to it and suddenly the heat of the day was there, on her skin. She could smell burning, too. Like a struck match. Then the magpie spoke to her. ‘Watch. My watch. My watch.’

Katie looked at the bird. Magpies could imitate sounds, Katie knew, but those hadn’t just been sounds. Those were words. Clear words.

Katie resisted the sudden urge to say ‘pardon?’ to the magpie. Perhaps she did have the flu after all. She put a hand on her forehead, tried to work out if she was running a temperature.

‘My watch. My watch,’ the bird said again. There was something urgent in its tone. Something pleading. It was staring at her as if willing her to understand something. And then she did.

‘Mr Cole?’

The bird cocked its head. ‘My watch.’

‘What about your watch?’ Katie said.

The magpie squawked and flew away.

Chapter 4

Katie slammed through the back door at End House. She’d phoned in sick to work and changed direction, heading to End House as fast as she could.

Her mobile buzzed as she half walked, half ran, and she slowed down to answer it.

‘Please tell me you’re not really sick,’ Anna said. ‘I wanted to go to the pub tonight.’

‘I’m not really sick,’ Katie said, out of breath. ‘Sorry to leave you short-staffed for breakfast.’

‘That’s okay. There’s hardly anyone here,’ Anna said. ‘Are you running?’

‘Going to Gwen’s.’

‘Secret family stuff?’

‘Kind of,’ Katie said, feeling bad. Whatever Anna said, however accepting and chilled out she appeared to be, Katie still found it difficult to talk to her. Gwen had painted such colourful portraits of the dangers of telling people about their magic, but it was more than that: Katie was always waiting for Anna to realise that she wasn’t such good friend material, after all. That the weirdness wasn’t worth it. Katie wanted to be honest, didn’t want to live a lie, so she ended up being cagey.

At End House she crashed through the back door and shouted, ‘Gwen!’

‘What’s wrong?’ Gwen was in a silk blue dressing gown, her hair up in a messy ponytail and a miniature rocking horse in one hand.

‘Sorry, you’re working.’ Katie tried to push down on her panic, squeeze it into something manageable.

‘Woke up with an idea,’ Gwen said, pulling the door to the hall shut. ‘Cam’s still asleep.’

Katie winced. ‘Sorry.’

‘It’s fine,’ Gwen said. Then, ‘What’s wrong? You look pale.’

Katie laughed but the sound turned into a kind of hiccup. ‘I had a really bad dream. About the man who died.’

‘A man died?’ Gwen said, her face draining of colour. ‘Who?’

‘At the hotel. Just a guest.’ Katie shook her head, realising that she hadn’t told Gwen. She’d planned to and then had heard her and Cam arguing and the weirdness of that had shoved it right out of her mind. ‘I found him.’

‘Oh, sweetheart.’ Gwen put down the rocking horse, her face softened in sympathy. ‘No wonder you had a nightmare.’

‘And something weird just happened. A bird spoke to me. With a man’s voice.’

Gwen put a hand on Katie’s forehead. ‘Do you feel sick?’

‘I’m not ill. I think it was Mr Cole’s voice. The guest. He had a heart attack.’

‘Sit down,’ Gwen said. ‘I’ll make some tea.’

Katie sat at the kitchen table, feeling comforted by the familiarity. Gwen’s kitchen. A mug of tea. In a moment, Gwen would explain it all. Maybe the Harper powers always began with a chat with a magpie. ‘Have you ever heard a magpie talk?’ Katie said, over the sound of the kettle boiling.

Gwen was getting milk out of the fridge and the bottle slipped from her hand. Smashed on the floor.

Katie got up to help but Gwen stepped through the spreading milk and grabbed her hands. ‘Are you sure it was a magpie?’

‘Yes.’ Katie would’ve felt insulted, they’d covered bird identification when she’d been fifteen, but Gwen sounded too freaked out. ‘It said something about a watch. I think Mr Cole wants me to find his watch. Or do something with his watch. Or watch something, perhaps—’

Gwen’s complexion had gone grey and her mouth was turned down. She suddenly looked much older than usual. ‘A man who recently died spoke to you through a crow?’

‘A magpie.’

Gwen shook her head as if she could erase Katie’s words. ‘No, no, no.’

Katie felt the hairs rise on the back of her neck. Gwen was usually so calm. This had to be bad.

‘Gwen?’

She was staring to the left of Katie, her expression grim. ‘I knew there would be consequences,’ Gwen said, her voice bleak. ‘This is my fault.’

‘What are you talking about?’

‘Blood magic.’ Gwen seemed to be forcing the words out. ‘I used blood magic. It’s serious stuff. Dark. I knew there’d be a price.’

Katie frowned. Why did Gwen have to be so negative? And when was she going to be able to stop paying for that one little mistake? ‘You don’t think this is my Harper family thing? Maybe—’

Gwen shook her head. ‘I don’t know. I don’t—’ She broke off and reached for the nearest notebook, began leafing through it. ‘I mean, I think there was something like this a long time ago, but—’

‘That’s it, then. I just inherited the crappest power. That’s it.’

‘None of them are simple,’ Gwen said, still looking as if she was about to throw up. ‘Lost things don’t always want to be found.’

‘I know that.’

‘And giving people what they need isn’t always fun.’ Gwen looked angry now. ‘Did you even read Iris’s journals?’

‘Of course,’ Katie said.

‘What about the stuff I wrote down for you? Did you read it? Did you take it in?’

‘Yes! Of course I did. You know I did. I’ve been training with you every week for the last seven years. You know.’

‘Well, it’s a shame you didn’t pay more attention.’ Gwen snapped the notebook shut and frowned at Katie. ‘Talking to a magpie? What were you thinking?’