Lost and Found

  “I know, Vigil. Thank you for coming and for your advice. I’ll watch over her, until she is back to herself.”

  Vigil stood up and gave a slight bow to Tristan and me. Then he turned to Celeste. “If you need me again, you know how to contact me. I am always at your service, Celeste Harker.”

  “You are very kind, Vigil. As always. Thank you.”

  “I look forward to our afternoon tea. It is still on, I presume?”

  “O-oh. Y-yes. Of course! If you still want to. I thought you were busy with your travels and such. I didn’t want to be a bother.”

  “I have a few pieces of unattended business to take care of first, but as soon as that is over, I will return to schedule our tea, yes?”

  “O-okay,” she said, all flustered, with cheeks tinting red as he took her hand gently and kissed the top of it.

  “Oh, and Celeste,” he added, before letting go of her hand, “you are never a bother.” He smiled softly, dipped his head and vanished away.

  “Holy crap! He did it again! That is so creepy!” I exclaimed, my eyes wide. “He is a charmer, though, huh, Celeste?” I teased her, wiggling my eyebrows at her. There was clearly something going on between those two, even though they were both so incredibly awkward around each other.

  “I’d prefer it if you keep ‘creepy’ more in mind than ‘charmer’, if you can, please,” Tristan muttered, standing up from the couch in a grumpy mood. “And please, mind your language.”

  “Sorry. So, what do we do now?” I asked, grinning so broadly I was almost biting the tips of my ears. I’d noticed Tristan didn’t like when I cursed. He seemed to dislike foul language of any kind, so I realized I should start minding my tongue around him. But it didn’t sound like he was grumpy because of my bad manners. It felt like he was jealous and I had never had a good-looking guy like Tristan jealous over me before. It was kind of thrilling.

  Tristan paused for a moment before turning to me.

  “Well, there is something we still haven’t done.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Pieces of Puzzle

  “SO, THE PLAN is we go inside and try to fish for anything suspicious about this Craig fellow, is that it?” I asked Tristan, as we stood at the head of the side road leading to the caretaker’s cabin, observing it from a distance.

  We had left Celeste’s room and the main house, and followed the trail up to Misty Lake Camp’s entrance gates. We were told at the reception desk in the lobby that Craig’s cabin was down a track near to the main gates, and that we should find him resting there. It seemed his blackout had taken a lot more out of him than it had me, and he was still trying to recover.

  The receptionist in the lobby, however, thought the caretaker was only slacking on the job and trying to get away with as many free days off as he could bluff from this incident. Arice was sure thinking the same way, since she had been stuck with a lot of his duties, and had been doing the camp rounds for the past couple of days: she was not amused by his “slow recovery”.

  He could be lazy or lying. Either way, we wanted to go talk to him and ask him some questions. Maybe he’d give us some clues that would help us solve all the mysteries going on in the camp.

  “Yes. I want to ask him a few things,” Tristan said. “He was the only one with you when the last attack happened and you lost your memory. Maybe he can tell us something new about that, something the Harkers missed asking him.”

  We hurried to his cabin and knocked on the door. It took the guy quite some time to open it, but when he did, we realized the reason for the delay. Craig was a short, chubby, middle-aged man, typically dressed like a camp instructor in his khaki outfit. But right now he looked as if he’d been dragged out of hell, his face dead pale, big purple bags under the eyes, hair in disarray, and he looked as if he was in a lot of pain, too. Maybe he wasn’t slacking on the job, after all.

  “Yes? What do you want?” he grunted at us.

  “Hello, Mr. Simms. Sorry to bother you. My name’s Tristan, and this is Joey. I don’t know if you remember us; we are staying at the camp for the week,” Tristan said politely, introducing us. “We were wondering if we could have a few words with you, sir? About what happened to you and Joey at the main house.”

  “I can’t help you, son. I don’t know what happened.” He motioned for us to come inside. “All I know is that I woke up with a big chunk of my memory gone.”

  “Oh, so you are suffering from memory loss as well?”

  He slumped tiredly on to a chair, grabbing a damp cloth from a table next to it and pressing it against his forehead. “Why? Who else is not remembering things?”

  “Joey can’t remember a lot of things, too. Since you two were attacked at the main house—”

  “We were attacked? By whom?” he asked, visibly startled.

  “That’s what we are trying to find out, sir,” Tristan explained patiently, and we both sat down on a sofa next to Craig.

  “I don’t know about any attack. Like I said, son, I woke up and can’t remember anything. But that’s not even the worst part. Is the girl having these inhuman migraines, too? Because I feel like my skull is about to split in half, here. Every time I try to force myself to remember anything, it gets worse. I gave up trying. I just want this pain to stop.”

  “Yes, she has them, too. Not as strongly as you, I think.” Tristan glanced at me for confirmation, and I nodded to reassure him I was fine.

  “It was real bad in the first hours after the attack, and it comes back when I try to remember things, too. But I’m fine now,” I said.

  “Someone bashed us on the head, is that what happened?” Craig asked, squinting his eyes as if the light in the room was hurting them.

  “We don’t know, sir. We were hoping you could tell us something that would help solve this mystery.”

  “I’m sorry, kids, but I can’t help you. I don’t even know what I’m doing in this place. Three girls came over a couple days ago and told me I’m filling in for the usual caretaker for the summer. They’d better start looking for a substitute, then. As soon as this blasted headache ends, I’m leaving this place and checking in to a hospital. All this pain can’t be normal.”

  “I’m sorry to hear you’re not feeling well, sir,” Tristan said.

  “Excuse me, I gotta go to the bathroom. Head is getting worse and I’m feeling a bit sick now. Hold on,” he muttered, and stood up on wobbly legs, dragging his feet to the bathroom and closing the door behind him.

  “Quick, keep an eye on him while I snoop around,” Tristan whispered, standing up from his seat.

  “What are you looking for?” I whispered, scooting over to the door through which Craig had disappeared, while Tristan looked around for clues.

  “I guess I’ll know when I find it,” he whispered back, quickly riffling through some drawers and cabinets.

  “Do you think he’s lying, Tris?”

  “I don’t know. He might be, or he might not even remember that he is. Do you think he knows about the Gathering happening here at the camp? Or knows about magic at all?”

  “He doesn’t look like he knows,” I murmured. “Celeste said he’s just a temporary caretaker.” I strained to hear what he was doing. It sounded like he really was being sick inside that bathroom. Yuck.

  “Well, in that case, he’s definitely lying,” Tristan said.

  “Why?” I turned round to see him holding a piece of paper he had taken from a leather briefcase lying in one corner of the living room.

  “Because if he doesn’t know about magic, why would he have these magic symbols in his briefcase, then?” He waved a scroll of old paper with some weird faded symbols scribbled on it.

  “What are those symbols?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve seen a few of them at the Harkers’ occult store, though. It’s definitely magic related. He’s up to something, but he’s clearly forgotten about it for the moment. Or, who knows, he could be lying that he doesn’t remember.”

  “But—
” I didn’t have time to finish what I was about to say, because the bathroom door was suddenly flung open, and Craig shuffled out, looking even more worse for wear than before.

  “I’m sorry, kids, but I’m not feeling well,” he muttered, pressing a fresh cloth over his eyes to block out the light, while Tristan quickly shoved the paper into his pocket. “You can come back later, if you want, but I need to lie down and rest now.”

  “Okay. I hope you feel better, sir. Thanks for talking to us,” Tristan replied smoothly, grabbing me by the arm and pulling me along with him outside.

  “Did you by any chance catch anything from him, Joe?” Tristan asked, as soon as we were out of earshot down the trail.

  “What do you mean by ‘catch’?”

  “Did you see anything suspicious in his eyes?”

  “No. He was barely looking at us, what with the migraine and that cloth pressed over his eyes. He looked genuinely in pain, though. I don’t think he was lying about that. That’s all I got. Sorry.”

  “If only you had your memory back . . . You would’ve known how to squeeze the truth out of him back there,” Tristan lamented, as we headed back to our cabin.

  “How would I do that?”

  “You were very good at catching people’s lies and turning them against themselves, and making them confess stuff. I guess we’re going to have to do the detective work the good old-fashioned way, then. Come on.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Finding Clues in a Wasp Nest

  WE WERE DEBATING whether we should go to Celeste with the paper Tristan got from Craig, when we arrived at our cabin and found the boys huddled outside the front door, waiting for us.

  “Finally, there you are!” Sam was the first to shout at us.

  “What’s going on, guys?” Tristan asked, as we approached them.

  “We are sick of doing nothing in our cabin. This lockdown is stupid! We are coming out. I don’t care if there’s a real wolf out there or not,” Harry said, exasperated. He was the most hyperactive of all the boys, and being forced indoors for days on end was starting to put him on edge. “We were supposed to be doing hikes and exploring the forest and swimming in the lake. I can’t stand one more second inside that cabin, and poor Rocko’s practically going nuts.”

  “Plus, you two don’t seem to be bothered about any of that danger talk. You’ve been prancing up and down this camp without a worry. Where are you going now?” Josh asked.

  “Yeah! Cos we are coming with you,” Harry added.

  “Right now, we need to talk to Celeste,” Tristan told them. “We just found a very important clue and we need her input on it. But a thought just came to me . . .” he mused, changing his mind. “Before we head for the main house, maybe we should take a quick detour. I want to check on one last thing before we go to Celeste. The more clues we bring her, the better, right?”

  “All right! Let’s go, then. We’ll help you hunt for more clues,” Josh volunteered, while Harry jumped up and down in excitement.

  “What are we doing here, again?” Seth asked, looking nervously around and rubbing his arms. He wasn’t as excited as the boys about going outdoors. Especially outdoors that had real wolves in it.

  “I thought maybe we could try to find a clue about what’s happening in here,” Tristan said, peering at the dark waters of the lake. “I know we usually rely on Joey’s skills to solve these situations, but with her memory gone, we are on our own, guys. We have to try to get to the bottom of this ourselves. The two first attacks happened in the area by the lake. Maybe there’s something the Harkers didn’t see here . . .”

  “Yeah, but Joey said she didn’t exactly see a wolf that night, remember?” Seth said, joining him us the shoreline. “It could have been anything.”

  “Yeah, it was mostly weird sounds that scared her,” Harry added.

  “So there’s nothing to worry about, right?” Seth asked, voice full of hope.

  “Well, there’s the thing in the lake. Joey has marks on her ankle to prove it’s real,” Josh pointed out.

  “And there’s her amnesia, too. There’s definitely someone behind this,” Tristan said.

  “But who?” Seth asked, looking confused.

  “That’s what I’m trying to find out, guys,” Tristan reasoned, looking intently at the shoreline. “And now we’ve discovered some suspicious evidence in Craig’s cabin. Maybe he has something to do with this. He was spotted in this area that night, according to Luna. And he was with Joey when she lost her memory. I want to check this place and see if he could have left a clue behind.”

  “But we looked everywhere! There’s nothing here,” Sam grumbled.

  “I still think you’re all overreacting,” Seth argued. “I don’t think it’s anything supernatural. The thing chasing after people must be a raccoon, or something. They make a lot of a ruckus, those pesky little buggers. I’m sure it was only looking for snacks in people’s pockets. And the thing in the lake could be a big fish . . . or a crocodile? They can drag people down, can’t they, Harry? You watch those animal TV shows all the bloody time, give us some input here, will you?”

  “Yeah, they do. They usually latch on and pull their prey down until it drowns. It takes less energy to kill that way than fighting them. But if it really were a croc, Joey wouldn’t have survived. Once they bite, they don’t let go. And the marks on her ankle weren’t bite marks. They were finger marks, dude,” Harry reminded him.

  “Plus, if it’s nothing supernatural, what do you think caused her amnesia, then, smarty pants? Crocodiles?” Sam asked, his voice full of sarcasm.

  “I don’t know! It could have been coconuts falling on their heads, or something,” Seth tried to reason.

  Harry tried to be helpful and added. “Do you know coconuts kill fifteen times more people than sharks?”

  “Were there killer coconuts around Joey when you found her unconscious outside the main house, Hal?” Josh asked.

  “Not that I can recall, no.”

  “Well, then. Your palm tree conspiracy is busted, Fletcher,” Josh mocked.

  “All I’m saying it that forests have a lot of scary things in them, and maybe there’s nothing supernatural about these occurrences,” Seth retorted, annoyed. “You never listen, but I’m telling you, nature only wants to kill you in the most—”

  “. . . slow, torturous way possible,” the boys chorused in unison. “Yeah, we know, Seth.”

  “You may be right, man. But I still think we need to investigate this,” Tristan said, searching the treetops at our back. “I’m not sure, but something doesn’t feel right, here . . .”

  “How about the poltergeist attack in that kid’s cabin? How do you explain that?” Josh asked. “This has supernatural written all over it, dude!”

  “Joey usually knows if it’s supernatural stuff or not . . .” Harry muttered to the boys. “If she had her memories back, she would’ve known for sure. Her intuitions were always spot on.”

  “It’s not her fault she can’t remember, Harry,” Josh said.

  “I know that, I’m not saying it is. I’m worried, though. What if she never remembers stuff? It has been a while since last time she remembered something new.”

  “She will remember, Harry,” Tristan assured him, and glanced at me. “You all have to be patient.”

  I glanced around, trying to search for a clue, but there was nothing out of the ordinary, not in the lake, on the shore or the in forest at our back. Everything looked pretty normal. And I didn’t feel anything suspicious at all in the air.

  “I’m so sorry, guys. I wish I could be of more help. I feel like such a useless, good-for-nothing drag,” I mumbled, kicking a pebble in the sand in frustration.

  “Don’t worry, Joey. We’re here and we’re going to help you,” Josh promised, giving reassuring taps on my shoulder.

  “All right, there’s nothing to see here. Let’s get back now. I want to talk to Celeste and see what she’ll have to say about this paper I found in C
raig’s cabin,” Tristan proposed, and walked towards the trail leading back to the main house.

  We were halfway up the trail when we bumped into Simon heading towards the lake. “What are you doing here?” Tristan was the first to ask, his expression guarded and full of suspicion.

  “Why? Are these woods your damned property? Do you own the whole camp now? I can’t walk around any more without you barking at me?” he snapped, on the defensive.

  “No, I don’t ‘own the camp’,” Tristan replied, irritated. “But I want to know why you’re around the exact same place where my wife has been attacked. Twice.”

  “I was attacked here too, you know!” Simon protested.

  “What are you doing roaming around here, then?” Josh interrupted, stepping beside Tristan and crossing his muscled arms in a very intimidating way. Sam joined in with the intimidation at the other side, and Harry and Seth glared at him from the back. It was too much pressure, and Simon’s bravado instantly vanished.

  “I . . . I just th-thought about going back to the lake to look for some clues. I don’t see the Harkers striving to find out what’s happening here! All they do is ask people to stay inside their rooms or in the main house. How’s that going to help solve anything?” he complained. “And I thought maybe if I looked around and discovered who’s doing all these things, I could help Joey get her memory back. She saved my life. I owe her. I’m trying to help.”

  “What a Good Samaritan you are,” Josh sneered, not really believing him.

  “Guys, stop it. You’re like angry drones, harassing the poor boy!” I intervened, before their bickering went any further. “I appreciate you trying to protect me, but you’re overdoing it.”

  “She’s right. Take it easy, Josh.” Tristan stepped in and turned to Simon. “We just came from the lake. There’s nothing to see back there, though. You’re free to go check for yourself, but it’s a waste of time. We’re heading back to the main house now. Come on, guys.”

  Tristan put a protective arm around me and pulled me next to him as we continued walking up the trail, the boys a few feet behind us. I was wondering if Simon had continued on his way down to the lake, or if he’d decided to follow us, when I heard his voice coming from behind Tristan.