Chapter Twenty-Six

Havermouth, Present Time

“Dear Aislen, if you receive this, it is because I have been murdered. I know too much, and the people here are ruthless and powerful,” the letter went on, and Aislen could almost hear her father’s voice behind the words. “A man makes mistakes. We all make mistakes. I made a mistake with you, and I am sorry for it.

“My mother, your grandmother, always said that people hide their secrets very well. Havermouth’s founding families are the same. They hide their secrets and protect their own. After you left, I was approached by a family whose daughter had had the same sort of troubles you had. There are a lot of families in town, and a lot of families that have had to leave because of boys like the three that you fell in with.

“Some of the girls were raped or blackmailed into having sex, and when their families took the matter to the police, they were told that there was nothing that the police could do for them. They just swept it under the carpet, and if the family fought for justice, Havermouth would drive them out of town – they’d lose their jobs or be harassed to the point that it wasn’t safe for them to stay.

“I blamed you for bringing shame to our family, to me, and for threatening my chances of a promotion. I didn’t think that maybe you hadn’t been a willing party, that maybe you had been blackmailed or raped like those other girls were. I don’t know if I will ever know now, because you haven’t spoken to me since you left, probably justifiably angry at me. I think, maybe, you tried to tell me, but I didn’t want to hear.

“I was blinded by my ambition. I didn’t realize then, that there never was going to be a promotion – not because I was an outsider to the town, but because I was an outsider to the company. Zeus Forest Works is the front of a crime organization. I’m not sure which one, but those higher up in the company are definitely hiding something.”

“Oh, dad,” Aislen realized what had happened. Zeus Forest Works was probably run by a nest of vampires – the nest where Talen originated. Her father had stumbled upon the supernatural, and mistaken it as a crime organization, and the supernatural had responded as they always did when a human threatened to expose them – by disposing of the threat.

Her father was right. He had, most likely, been murdered.

She sat in the driver’s seat and wept. Did she forgive him? She asked herself this question. He had turned against her, called her a whore, and withdrawn what little love and affection he had offered before. He had refused to speak with her or listen to her side of the story – not that she had fought very hard to tell it to him, because she had internalized the blame.

It still lingered in the darkest corners of her mind. No matter how many times she told herself that what the Triquetra had done to her was wrong and that she had been manipulated and flat out raped, that they had gaslit her into the situation, affecting her ability to think clearly and consent, the fact that she had participated after, that she had found pleasure in what they did together, and that she had looked forward to being with them, felt like she was to blame, that she had been complicit.

Even now, five years and countless hours of therapy later, the doubt persisted.

“And here you are,” she whispered. “Tripped right back into the rabbit hole, didn’t you Aislen?”

Did she forgive her father for turning against her when she had needed it? Did his discovery that it was an established pattern of behaviour in the town, and that she hadn’t been alone make a difference? No, it didn’t matter, she decided.

She sighed and returned to reading.

“I have done two things that put my life in danger,” Patrick’s letter continued. “I have joined a group of parents of girls like you, Aislen, and we have been compiling evidence of the abuse. We have hired a lawyer in Rideten, and we intend to bring a lawsuit against the police force in Havermouth, forcing them to acknowledge their habit of protecting the sons of the well-connected families to the detriment of the girls that they assault.

“And I have begun collecting evidence on Zeus Forest Works. There is a reporter that I have been talking to, who is interested in writing a story exposing whatever organization is behind them.

“I have hidden the evidence from both investigations under the floorboard in your bedroom. I think you know the one, as I discovered a stash of drugs in there. The squeaky one that your mother was always telling me to repair. The contact details for the lawyer and the reporter are in there, too.

“I am posting this letter to my Post Box. If I die, I know you’ll get it that way. If you have gotten this letter, then I need you to take the evidence about the abuse and your own story to the lawyer, and the evidence about Zeus Forest Works to the reporter. I know that you will do this for me.

“I am proud of what you’ve achieved with your art. I’m not sure about the subject matter, but that you’ve made a career out of drawing that sort of thing… Well, I’m proud that you made something of yourself, despite what happened with those boys. I am sorry that I didn’t do better by you. Dad.”

Aislen folded the letter back up and placed it into the envelope, her hands shaking. There was no way, she decided, that she was going to fulfil either of her father’s last requests. Doing either would be to sign her own death warrant. Either the werewolf pack or the vampire nest would finish her if they knew what was under that floorboard.

If it was still there, she amended. They had, after all, killed her father. Maybe they had learned what he had hidden before they had killed him. Or maybe he had just been caught poking his nose into werewolf and/or vampire business.

There was only one way to find out.

She started the car and returned to the house. She locked the front door behind her and carried the rest of the mail to the kitchen, checking in every room as she went, until she was sure that none of the Triquetra were lurking in a corner, before pulling the curtains closed in her bedroom and jamming a chair under the door handle just in case.

She had to peel up the rug to reveal the floorboard and used a metal nail file to pry it up from its neighbours. The cavity below looked empty, but she stuck her hand into the hole and felt around to the side, finding the plastic baggie of drugs remained.

“Oh, bonus,” she pulled it out and set it to the side of her before reaching back in. Sure enough, she encountered paper. “Shit.” She groaned, and hastily restored the floorboard and rug into place. Of course her father had hidden the evidence, that had seen him killed, in her bedroom, right next to the bed where she had fucked both a vampire and a werewolf since her arrival.

Thanks, dad, she thought grimly. Now what should she do? Leave it there and hope that when the house sold, the new owners wouldn’t find it? Take it out and make a bonfire in the back garden and risk the Triquetra appearing at an inopportune time with her literally holding evidence against their pack in her hands?

“Just great,” she sighed. She’d work it out, she decided, after the funeral.