Clara walked over to the shop door and flipped the sign over, so the word CLOSED faced the street. She turned the lock in the door. “Not that it will make much difference. No one in this village will shop here after word got around I was at the church yesterday. Follow me.” She shuffled through the shop to a back room.
This was getting weirder and weirder. Why was she acting as if she already knew exactly what I wanted? I glanced toward the door, wondering if I should leave. But no, I’d come here to get answers, and I wasn’t going to walk away empty handed.
“I’ve already brewed some tea for us,” she said, fetching a kettle and a couple of cups.
“You’re quite the modern day Sherlock,” I said with fondness. I’d grown to admire the character. He reminded me a little of Maeve. I perched on the tiny stool Clara provided, my knees thrust awkwardly up in the air. “Do I have to tell you why I’m here, or have you deduced that as well?”
Clara handed me a steaming cup. “You want to contact your friend Liah in the underworld. Sugar?”
“Just one lump. Okay, old lady, I’ll bite. How do you know that?”
Clara plonked one sugar cube in my cup. “Milk?”
I shook my head.
Clara grinned. “I’ve spirit powers of my own, young man. Also, I’ve been talking to Liah. The dark energy around her reaches to me. She tells me that my puny human conception of hell doesn’t do justice to the true horrors that await my soul.”
I smiled, because that was what she expected me to do, even though her words twisted in my gut. “That sounds like Liah. Did she have any other message? Did she say anything about me?”
Clara paused. “She said that next time she will shoot that arrow straight through your heart.”
“Why didn’t she? She had the perfect chance. And why did she try to shoot Maeve, anyway? Daigh wants her alive.”
“Ours is not to wonder why.” Clara stirred her tea.
“I’m notwondering– I need answers. Say if I wanted to speak to her, could I do that somehow? I’m guessing I can’t dream myself down there?”
Clara shook her head. “Even if you could, she doesn’t want to hear from you.”
Liah hesitated. Why did she hesitate?
“You can’t help me at all, then? This visit was a complete waste of time.”
“Not entirely. You came to give me the key.”
Sighing, I tossed the key into her outstretched hand. Clara had agreed to watch over Briarwood while we were away, feed Obelix, and monitor the wards to make sure they remained intact.
Clara tucked the key into a pocket in one of her many skirts. She reached for a vial on the shelf beside her. “The Underworld may be a place that only the spirits of the dead can enter, but it’s really much closer to earth thanTir Na Nog.I have made you a single dose of spirit draught. It’s like the sleeping draught you used at Briarwood, but allows your living essence to travel as though you were a dead soul. You will be able to enter the Underworld, but only through your nightmares. On the other side you will be as a shade, faceless and nameless. No one will recognise you, but you will also not be able to speak to anyone, including Liah. You must be careful, for you will be indistinct from any other shade, and what the beasts do to others there they can also do to you. I suggest you use it wisely.”
I stared at the small vial in my hand, trepidation creeping into my veins with every word she spoke. “I just wanted to know…if things had been different, would she have stayed here and fought with us?”
“No.” Clara patted my hand, closing my fingers around the vial. “Now, you best hurry up, or you’ll be late for your train.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
ARTHUR
“All aboard!” Flynn cried, waving his arms around like a conductor as he danced along the Crookshollow station platform.
“We’re alreadyonthe train, Flynn,” Maeve called out the window. Beside her, Jane snorted back a laugh.
“Shite!” Flynn took a dramatic leap off the platform, flapping his arms like a duck. He landed on the top step of the train and pitched forward, nearly barreling into a ticket ripper.
I climbed on after him, pushing past the ticket ripper as she launched into a lecture about the dangers of horsing around on the train – probably a lecture Flynn needed to hear every day of his life. I sank into the seat behind Maeve and Jane, who collapsed into giggles as they watched Flynn get a well-deserved bollocking.
Across the aisle, Corbin and Rowan sat together. Corbin had his nose buried in a book, and Rowan was scanning reviews on his phone to choose the best high tea in London.
High tea. The National Gallery. Jesus bloody Christ. Maeve was talking about taking Kelly to the Natural History Museum and St. Paul’s Cathedral. Corbin had already called ahead and got us a meeting with the Soho Coven. It was all sounding like a wonderful trip.
