Buffy pulled a face. ‘Ick.’
Hmm. Quincy Carmichael had run a dating agency for a while. I knew he’d had money troubles, but I wondered if he’d used some of his cash to buy this place as a bolthole. Perhaps he’d given it an ironic name as a nod to his ill-fated former career. It would be easy enough to check. From what Liza had told us, Grace had seen reference to it in the old files that Tony had put together. It was possible Quincy had escaped here instead of Spain when his debts began to catch up to him.
I walked up to the cottage door to join Lukas, taking care not to step in the mud and disturb the marks we’d found. A section of window on the right-hand side seemed to have been cleaned as if someone – possibly Grace – had cleared away the grime in order to peer through. I bent down slightly and looked inside.
The cottage was dark and small, probably with only one bedroom. It had definitely been abandoned for some time judging from its desolate air and the heavy layer of dust that was visible even from the window. I gazed at the shabby, grimy chairs and saw several well-established cobwebs. If Quincy Carmichael had been here, it was a long time ago.
I glanced at the door again. I’d already broken the law by acting while suspended, not to mention what had happened with Alfie. Perhaps I should go the whole hog and kick in the door to get a better view of what was inside. Then I shook my head; I wanted to maintain at least a scrap of integrity if only for a short while longer.
‘They didn’t go inside the house,’ I said aloud. ‘But they must have been out of sight when the perp fiddled with the car.’ I took a step back, noting the overgrown path at the side of the cottage. ‘They must have gone around the back.’
I hadn’t even finished speaking when Buffy started marching around the exterior wall. Lukas and I exchanged glances then followed her, picking our way through prickly brambles and bushes to get to the garden on the other side of the house. I sniffed the air, breathing in the overpowering reek of fresh manure. Cows, I thought. And sheep, just as Fred had complained about. But no missing gremlin, and nothing to suggest that coming here was enough reason for someone to try and kill Fred and Grace.
‘It’s a big garden,’ Buffy observed.
I nodded absently. It must have been beautiful once. There was an old apple tree in one corner with the remnants of a rope swing hanging from one of its branches, several unkempt rose bushes and a little bench. Despite its ramshackle state, it would be a good spot for someone who wanted to get away from the city for a weekend. It wasn’t far from the centre of London, but it felt rural enough to have been a hundred miles away.
Lukas went towards the back of the garden where a rickety wooden fence was barely standing upright. He stopped before he reached it, looked to his right then called me. ‘Emma.’ His voice sounded strained.
A trickle of apprehension ran down my spine as I hurried over to him. When I saw what he was looking at, the trickle became a deluge.
Buffy peered curiously over my shoulder. ‘What’s that?’
‘It must be a well.’ I stared at the boarded-up hole and the circle of neatly mortared stones beneath it.
‘Like a wishing well?’
I met Lukas’s eyes; we were both thinking the same thing. My toes curled inside my shoe. The penny I’d placed there at Lukas’s suggestion was still under the sole of my foot; if I concentrated, I could feel it through the my sock.
‘It’s a more utilitarian than a fairy-tale version,’ Lukas said. ‘But, yes, I believe it’s a well.’
Buffy’s brow creased. She was far from stupid, and she’d been in the room when I’d had that Cassandra vision. ‘Hang on,’ she said slowly. ‘When we were at the hospital, you said something about a wishing well.’
I stepped forward before she put two and two together. With Lukas’s help, I slid the wooden cover away from the top of the well. Several spiders scuttled away as we removed it but I ignored them and dropped to my knees to gaze into the dark depths. An old rope, connected to what I assumed was a bucket, was tied to a rusty hook set in the inner side of the stone wall. I peered past it, attempting to pierce through the gloom.
‘Is there anything down there?’ Lukas asked.
I could only see darkness. I leaned back, away from the well’s edge and took off my shoe. Feeling like an idiot, I held my breath and tossed the coin in, making a silent wish for Grace and Fred. The coin dropped straight down and disappeared into the darkness. I listened hard and caught a faint clink followed by a muffled splash. My eyes narrowed.
The soft morning light glinted in Lucas’s black eyes as he looked at me. He bent down, took off his shoe and removed the coin.
‘You don’t have to do this,’ I whispered. Although it was a small action, it was a direct reaction to my Cassandra vision. No matter how much Lukas said he didn’t care about my new skill, accepting the prophecy without question had to be difficult for him.
He offered a crooked smile and threw in his coin. This time the sound was more like a dull thud, as if he’d hit something hard instead of the edge of a metal bucket and water. I bit down hard on the inside of my cheek, then I motioned to Buffy. ‘Come and have a sniff,’ I said. ‘Your sense of smell will pick up any water down there.’ Or anything else that might be concealed in those dismal depths.
Buffy stayed where she was, her gaze flicking between Lukas and me. ‘Buffy?’ I said, with a trace of impatience.
She folded her arms, her expression thoughtful – and calculating. She was clearly trying to work out what was going on. Then her spine stiffened and her eyes widened. Uh-oh. ‘I see,’ she murmured. ‘Now I see.’
Lukas started forward but I put my hand on his arm and shook my head, willing to wait it out while she decided what to do next. After several long seconds, she tossed her head and marched to the lip of the well. ‘And you guys tried to ditch me,’ she sniffed. ‘This is exactly why you need a wolf around.’
She got onto her hands and knees and dipped her head into the well to take a sniff I hoped that her uncharacteristic silence meant she’d decided not to question my prophetic chants and was going to feign ignorance, though I doubted it. Buffy was totally loyal to Lady Sullivan and her clan, and would probably blab at the first opportunity. But I could still hope.
Lukas’s mimed shoving Buffy into the well and walking away. I rolled my eyes and he smirked. She straightened up and gave him a suspicious glare. ‘If you’re thinking what I think you’re thinking…’ she began.
Lukas put up his hands. ‘I have no idea what you mean.’ He changed the subject and pointed down the well. ‘What can you smell?’
Her answer was simple and immediate. ‘Death,’ she said. ‘I can smell death.’
