Returned (4 page)

             
Pushed against the wall underneath the book shelves and the odd shaped nails were several medium sized cabinets. Cora could see that the small drawers were labelled with neat calligraphy handwriting. The limited floor space was taken up with two deep mahogany bookcases. They were both brimming with books as more ornaments lined the top.

             
She crept towards the books straining her eyes,
The Book of the Wiccan, The New Book of Organic Spells, Love, Love, Love Potions.
Smothering her laugh she moved around the bookcase. People had to be brain washed if they believed this stuff actually worked. Take Harry Potter for example, she liked Harry Potter, most people did
,
but he wasn't real. The spells weren't real .Well, saying that, she’d accidentally,
p
urposefully
, once shouted
expelliarmus
when she'd been swept up in the whole craze but nothing had happened, therefore proving her point.

             
She moved around the small bookcase looking at the labels on the waist high cabinet. Kneeling down, she placed her gloves on top of the cabinet and opened a little draw
er
. She found small sachets full of crushed petals, whole petals and crushed thorns. She seriously doubted flower power did anything magical. She closed the draw
er
and stood wiping her hands on her jeans just in case she caught something. You couldn't get diseases from this stuff, right? She was sure she couldn't but continued to wipe her hands. As she did so, she shuffled to the rear of the shop where a small round table accompanied by two chairs was positioned next to a banister. Should she sit down or just stand here aimlessly? She peered over the banister and noticed that the stairs seemed to sink in to the floor. Behind the staircase stood yet another bookcase this one spanned the full length of the wall until it met a door. There must have been thousands of books on that one bookcase.

             
A soft click from somewhere behind her interrupted her thoughts. She sat without thinking and tried to act normal, if normal was twisting yourself around in her seat to see where the woman had come from and gawping like a deranged idiot. Then that was her normal.

             
The woman placed two steaming cups on the table as she continued to assess the door at the bottom of the stairs. She knew the woman was looking at her like she'd lost her marbles, not the first time she'd received such a look, but she needed to see what was down there. It was a nos
e
y habit of hers but the door didn’t have a handle which meant the woman didn’t want people going down there. Restrictions only made her more intrigued.

             
Turning and facing the stranger, she tried to form appropriate questions in her head but they all just sounded stupid. She knew you couldn't ask if she could walk through floors, that didn't sound like a sane question. You also couldn't ask someone if they were an escaped asylum patient. That wasn't considered appropriate conversation.  For the first time in her life she hated the silence. What was she meant to say to a woman she didn't know at all? Maybe she should go with the asylum patient ice breaker?

“Th-thank you for your help outside,” she stuttered, avoiding the weird ice breaker and going for the stuttering idiot.

The woman continued to look at her, the smile forever on her face. Cora was unsure whether she’d heard her or not. Her voice sounded distant, the blood that was pounding in her ears was to blame. The woman lifted the steaming blue cup to her smiling lips but her eyes remained focused intently on her over the rim. She hated direct eye contact like this, especially contact that was so intimidating. She watched as stray curls of black hair moved cupping the woman's face as she drank. The woman seemed more than content to sit thinking and staring at her. Cora fidgeted in her chair. She really wouldn’t mind getting out of this shop, the sooner, the better.

             
Having nothing better to do, she lifted the red cup to her lips and took small sips. She tried to keep the surprise from showing on her face but she was completely unsuccessful. The drink wasn't tea, it was a lovely thick chocolate. Didn't people in the north drink tea? Lancashire was close to Yorkshire wasn't it?  She just assumed people drank it more up here. Well, it wasn't like people down south didn't drink tea. God, she was rambling in her head.

“What were those boys doing to you outside?”

Finally the woman had spoken yet that didn't make her feel better. Keeping the cup in front of her face like some sort of shield, Cora took another sip. You couldn’t talk with a mouth full of liquid, she knew that much and even if she tried it would probably dribble out. She nearly choked on the liquid. She was sat here trying to figure out ways not to speak to the woman and her best idea had been dribbling. This wasn’t exactly her greatest moment.

             
She took another sip surprisingly enjoying the chocolate which was laced with something sweet. She didn’t know what it was but it was delicious all the same. She dared to look at the woman whose eyes hadn’t strayed from her face. God, she was patient, usually her mother would fill the silence with meaningless chatter. For the first time in a long time she missed her mother's crazy banter. Sighing, she gave in.

“I arrived here yesterday with my mum.” She coughed to get rid of the huge frog that had suddenly dropped in her throat. “I came to look around the village... I was meant
to be spending the day with her
…” She trailed off avoiding the woman’s gaze. This wouldn’t have happened if her mother hadn’t been called into work.

“Well, the witches outside caught my attention… they just look so real. That boy, the one with the stupid grin was pushing me back into the witch outside the shop and calling me a witch. He was trying to goad me, make me react.” She shrugged her shoulders trying to brush off the horrible feeling he'd left imprinted on her. “It was about that point when you came to the door.”

She could feel the anger rise again and as soon as it did she heard the wind protest outside. She dared to look at the woman now; did the wind always behave like this here? The woman didn’t show any concern regarding the erratic wind.  She shivered as a whisper of laughter danced around her. What was that? She must be hearing things, surely? God, what was wrong with her?

             
Her anger, fuelled by nerves, spiked again. She'd stood there and let him talk to her like that. She was also angry that she'd been forced into this situation, that he'd forced her into something she couldn't get out of. Stupidly, she was angry that he'd left her. He’d put her in this situation. She was the one stuck here in this crazy shop with this woman whilst he was out there gallivanting around without a care in the world.   

             
She waited for the woman’s reaction but there wasn’t one, her eyes remained focused on Cora. Her face held no trace of emotion. Cora was sure that the woman had emotions. She’d seen something cross her face outside the shop earlier.

“Welcome to Millsteeple. It’s not a very busy village but I’m sure you will love it.”

Not likely she thought in her head as the woman continued speaking.

“You must be Cora Hunt. I have to say I’ve heard so much about you already.”

Stunned and more than a little freaked out by this woman's revelation, she sat in silence.

This woman knew her? How? She’d lost the use of her tongue, again. Fidgeting in her chair, she tried to ignore the awkward silence between them. She could feel the woman’s gaze on her mentally willing Cora to meet her eyes, there was no way she was going to do that.

“Well I must leave, M
um is expecting me,” she choked on the lie as it lodged in her throat. Even her body wouldn't help her lie.
Fantastic.
“Thanks for the warm drink.”

In a rush she stood up too quickly and nearly fell over. She risked a quick glance at the woman noticing she hadn’t moved an inch. A smile remained fixed on her face.

“Cora...I would like to offer you a job working here, if you would be so kind to accept it?”

Cora’s eyes darted upright in shock.

What?

She cursed, quickly realising she was now looking into those intense green eyes which refused to let her look away.

No.

No way.

She wasn't going to accept a job from a stranger. Yes, she was incredibly grateful the woman had come to her rescue earlier, although she was sure she would have stood up to him, eventually. But she couldn’t accept a job, could she?

“I understand you do not know me but I know young people need extra cash and I have a free opening here in the shop.” She attempted a shrug, it looked like the woman had never used the gesture in her entire life.

             
Shuffling from foot to foot, she stared
down at the faded wooden floor
b
oards.
Cora didn’t know what to do. This was stupid, why couldn't her mouth say the words, 'no, I don't need a job, thank you.' That wasn’t hard, was it? But her mouth wouldn’t co-operate. The silence was becoming unbearable.

“Errrrmmmm… sure,” she stuttered. “I mean...I need the money. I might save for...something.”

She shrugged her shoulders.
She
might save for
something
, what a stupid response. She couldn’t even use the excuse of having to go to college, she didn’t plan on going. They usually didn’t stay in one place long enough. Without giving the woman a chance to respond, she started walking towards the door.  As she pulled it open she heard the bell above her head erupt. The blast of cold air that hit her face was refreshing, taking a step onto the pavement she was stopped by yet another polite cough.

Keep moving Cora, don't look back.

Her body ignored the instruction and turned to face the woman. She was stood right next to her. Only just managing to contain a shriek, she stumbled back. When had the woman moved? Why hadn’t she heard anything? What was she?

“Cora, my name is Tabitha Preston. You can start Saturday. The shop opens an hour later so you can settle in before the first customer arrives.”

             
Without waiting for an answer she smiled and walked back into the shop leaving her stood on the street. She had a job? How had that happened? The only comfort, was that even the right word? The only thing she could take away from that meeting was the feeling that the woman was used to getting her own way and she certainly had. Cora never stood a chance.

             
The cold wind nipped at her bare hands. She rummaged around in her pockets and then mentally kicked herself, she made a move down the street jamming her hands deep into her pockets. Her warm gloves were on the cabinet in the ominous shop with the peculiar woman and her amazing, yet strange, leaf green eyes. She wasn’t going back in there, it was a struggle to break eye contact and walk away, plus she could be forced to do something else. The woman pushed forward some unknown feelings and this made her nervous.

             
As she walked she found herself wondering how her mother knew Tabitha. Sure, her mother could be kooky at times, a little bit weird, but Tabitha took the definition of strange to a whole new level. She didn’t exactly scream normal in the robe thing she wore. She walked briskly up the main street as the wind continued attacking every available piece of flesh.

             
She thought of the woman's compelling presence, her striking black hair, those eyes, her soft spoken voice and the stairs without a door. Why did she feel like there was something about Tabitha that was so familiar?

“Hey witch! You haven’t got your witch friend to save you this time!”

             
The already familiar male voice shouted the words at her, shocking her out of her mental turmoil. Within the same second of his voice reaching her, she heard the laughter that seemed to glide along the waves of the cool wind, wind that was circling her body, again.

Chapter 4

PAIN

He stood, tall and intimidating mere feet in front of her. Why hadn’t she noticed him? She knew why the moment her head decided to ask the question, she'd been caught up in her own little world thinking of the woman in the shop, when in fact,
he
was the reason she'd been placed in that situation bullying her like that.
He
was the one she should worry about.

             
His eyes seemed to sparkle with amusement whilst her stomach turned in nauseating circles, knotting themselves into a tight mess. Was there a sign on her head that said: ‘Easy Target, attack!
’
At the first available minute she would remember to take that sign down and place a new one there, one that said: ‘I will kick your arse if you attempt to belittle me or laugh at me.’ A sign she would never act upon but hopefully the words alone would stop people.