1 THE JOURNAL

Five days ago...

After sealing the final box, Helena stretched, relieving some of the

dull pain in her lower back. She wiped the sweat off her forehead and

surveyed her old bedroom. It was nothing more than an ocean of pale brown

boxes and suitcases.

Double checking her things one last time, she closed her eyes. The sound

of her beating heart enveloped her as happy memories merged with the

familiar smell of rose scented candles on her windowsill. From downstairs,

muffled voices of her mother and Richard floated up. This is where she grew

up—a home she would miss.

Her fingers itched with anticipation and a smile tugged at her lips. Sitting

on the edge of her bed, she reached under the pillow, retrieving a journal. She

rested the two-inch-thick bulk on her lap. It had been on her mind ever since

she rummaged through the dusty attic last night. Once she had laid eyes on

the leather cover with carved fern leaves, she wanted to know the secrets held

inside. Yet, priorities such as packing were paramount. If not done in time,

she would be forced to listen to Laura’s complaints until her ears bled.

She peeled back the jacket, revealing the first aged, yellow page. A list of

names presented itself to her. They appeared handwritten by different people,

possibly multiple owners of the journal. One name caught her attention. She

skimmed through the strange diagrams and drawings of plants, recognising a

few from her grandmother’s garden when she was little. Faded, an archaic

language filled the worn pages. She didn’t even try pretending to comprehend

it.

Beautiful curving letters sparked recognition and her hand froze. Her

grandmother had been the last owner of this journal. Helena smiled at the

bittersweet memory of them spending time together. The old woman read

stories to her of witches battling against the dark forces in the world—tales

she would never forget.

Her grip tightened. The calm, happy memories decayed as the tragic

episodes unfolded in her mind once more. Her mother’s version was simply a

story of a loving grandmother turning into a crazed woman as she ended her

life by setting fire to their home. Yet, those fragments of her childhood

remained a knot she couldn’t unravel no matter how hard she tried.

Michael’s words sprang into her mind, making her jump. “Sasha is

finishing the preparations. You should change.”

“I’m busy,” she replied.

“This is your last night here. That thing cannot be more important than

spending time with your parents.”

She slammed the journal shut. “Fine!”

Standing, she cast a fleeting glance to its hiding place under the pillow

and walked to her wardrobe. A set of clothes she had prepared for tonight’s

dinner awaited her on the top shelf. She changed out of her sweat-tinged

tracksuit and into a baggy T-shirt with a pair of jeans.

As she opened the door, a delicious aroma greeted her. Her grumbling

stomach led her downstairs where she found an excessive amount of food

spread out on the round oak table. Her mother went overboard with

preparations as per usual. Nonetheless, Helena refrained from pointing it out

and took in an appreciative whiff of the roasted chicken.

Her step-father’s salt-and-pepper hair bobbed as he battled with a bottle

of wine. His two large brows scrunched, creating an impression of a dark

unibrow.

“Don’t just stand there.” Her mother’s underlying Russian accent never

failed to show when she was anxious. With a huff, she piled plates and

cutlery in Helena’s hands and rushed back into the kitchen.

Helena set the table mumbling, “Well, hello to you too, Mum.”

As Richard settled the bottle on the lacquered surface, his shoulders

slumped. The small cork got stuck halfway in the bottle’s neck, unwilling to

move in either direction.

“We haven’t had champagne in a while,” Helena said.

“You’re right. I think Sasha bought one for the occasion.”

When he left the room, her mother reappeared, and two brown eyes

zeroed in on Helena. Her fingers raked through her short, platinum hair, as

she commenced the emotional bombardment. “Are you sure about moving

out? You can stay with us until you finish studying or—”

Helena crossed her arms. “Mum, we had this discussion last week.”

“Yes, we did.”

She wanted to kick herself—upsetting her mother was not something she

enjoyed. It would be easier for her to travel to and from college if she moved

in with her friends. She glanced at the kitchen door. Richard was taking

longer than he should have. So, she tapped her foot to try to melt the silence

growing between them.

Her mother’s transitory act of sadness disappeared, and she squared her

shoulders, disapproval remained etched into the frown lines on her face.

“I know you’re worried, Mum, but I’ll be with Laura and Andrew.”

Sasha relaxed her stance and hugged her daughter. “You are my only

child. I can’t help worrying.”

Helena patted her back, unsure of what to say or do next. Thankfully, the

heavens answered with a loud pop coming from the kitchen and a faint

clinking of glasses.

Richard strolled into the room with a grin, revealing his pearly teeth as he

held up an opened bottle of champagne and three champagne flutes. “I take it

you two are doing well?”

“We’re fine,” her mother replied. She pulled away from Helena, folded

her apron over the back of her chair, and took her seat.

Following Sasha’s example, Helena sat next to her mother.

Richard poured each of them a drink and joined them at the table. The

instant he took a sip from his glass, he cringed.

Helena glanced at her thighs to hide her snort. She loved her step-father.

Even though he was busy as the Head of the Science Department, he

remained a family man. He never complained and took care of her and her

mother after her real father disappeared from their lives without so much as

an explanation.

“Did you finish your registration?” Richard asked.

Helena raised her head. “Yeah, the second I got accepted.”

“I’m concerned by your choice. Becoming a doctor or a lawyer would

pay better than a—” Her mother waved her hand in the air, searching for the

right word. “I don’t even know what you can call your degree.”

Helena looked away. Her mother’s stony eyes held enough

disappointment to drown an army. The silence continued to spread, and

Helena clutched the cutlery. The metal warmed in her palms. “If I get bored, I

will choose something else.”

“Bored?” Sasha’s voice rose.

Finished with the conversation, Helena switched her attention to her food.

Richard cleared his throat. “I heard there’ll be quite a downpour

tomorrow. Hope it won’t hinder your move.”

Her mother gave Helena a fleeting glare as if telling her their

conversation wasn’t over and faced her husband. “How bad will it be? I have

to meet with the girls.”

Helena took the distraction as a reprieve and mouthed a “thank you” to

Richard who winked in return.

With dinner out of the way, Helena busied herself stacking the dishes into the

dishwasher.

“Can I talk to you for a sec?” Richard’s deep baritone made her jump.

She nodded and straightened her back.

“First and foremost, you are always welcome here...” His eyes scanned

the kitchen.

Helena looked around with him. When she didn’t notice anything out of

the ordinary, she couldn’t help a smile creeping up. “Um, Richard?”

“Right, well, the second thing is that we love you. If there’s anything you

need, we will be there to listen.” He faltered and spread his arms out, drawing

her into an awkward bear hug. His lean body radiated warmth, and her heart

swelled. “Call us if something happens or—”

“I think I got the point,” she mumbled into his shoulder.

He released her and rubbed the back of his neck. “You should rest. It’s an

early start for everyone tomorrow.”

“I will.”

Once he left, she sped through putting the remaining dishes away while

she analysed Richard’s behaviour. Was he worried about her moving out? He

didn’t seem too concerned until now. So, why act like that all of a sudden?

She shrugged and pressed the ‘on’ button on the dishwasher.

When she arrived at the top of the staircase, faint whispers from her

mother’s room caused her to halt. She sneaked across the hallway and

pressed her back against the wall.

“...you tell her?” Sasha’s agitated voice came first.

“I did. You shouldn’t worry so much. She’s doing great,” Richard replied.

Her mother’s voice rose. “What if something triggers her to remember?”

“Hush, Sasha. If she hears any of this, she will want to know more. All

we can do is keep an eye on her. Restricting her will drive a wedge between

you two, and I doubt that’s what you want.”

Helena clutched at her chest when the conversation ended. She staggered

into her bedroom and dragged her feet until she collapsed on the bed. A sigh

escaped her as she faced the ceiling. “What are they hiding from me?”

Michael materialised sitting next to her. He tracked her gaze to the

phosphorescent stars that fascinated her in her childhood. “I remember the

day your step-father glued them on. He fell off this bed twice.”

Helena glanced at his broad back. “What are you implying?”

“Do you recall why he did that?”

“Richard said it was because I used to have nightmares when I was

younger. Nightmares I don’t remember having...”

“You were a child. Think nothing of it.”

Helena sat bolt upright. “Are you serious? They’re hiding something from

me, something important. I can feel it.”

Michael shifted, and their eyes met. She loved looking into the azure

depths of his eyes. They were like two handpicked jewels. The longer you

marvelled at their beauty, the less you wished to argue with the beholder.

And, like real precious gems, they held many secrets.

He withheld a lot of information from her. Something was always

missing out of the full picture—a forbidden piece of knowledge his angel

bosses coveted. He wouldn’t tell her anything regarding them either.

“Memory is a fragile thing, especially at a young age.”

She glowered at him. “I have a good memory, Michael.”

“Do not look at me with such murderous intent. I have answered your

question.”

Unable to help herself, she doubted his answer. Her childhood night

terrors couldn’t be a plausible explanation why her parents were nervous. But

the real answer eluded her.

“You’ll get wrinkles if you continue to brood over this.”

She fell back onto the bed and sighed. “Okay, I’ll let it go, for now.”

Michael lay next to her without indenting the mattress. His lack of a

physical body confused her to this day. “Rest. You have a lot to do

tomorrow.”

Not bothering to change into her pyjamas, she climbed under the covers

and asked, “No matter what I choose, will you always support me?”

“Good night, Helena.”

She ran a hairbrush through her hair for the second time that morning, and

their eyes met in the mirror. At least, Michael refrained from popping in

when she was in the shower or on the loo.

Her eyes narrowed. “What?”

“It’s nothing.”

“You’ve been staring at me since I woke up. Tell me what the problem is!

Is it the hair?”

The corner of his lips upturned. “You are nervous.”

Helena whipped around. “Any normal human being would be. It’s a lifechanging decision.”

“What happened to the calm, collected, and analytical persona you like to

portray?”

She folded her arms over her chest. “Anything you want to tell me?”

“If I had to say something, it would be that Andrew is at the front door.”

She glared at her guardian angel and rushed downstairs. Tweeting birds

filled her ears, and she grunted. The tacky doorbell was her mother’s idea.

On the last step, she managed to avoid tripping over her feet by a mere

millimetre. Between ragged breaths, she swung the door open and grinned at

her soon-to-be roommate. “So, how do you want to do this?”

Andrew’s smile faltered. He tapped his chin with his index finger. “Hum,

getting indoors should be my primary task.” He didn’t wait for her response

and stepped inside with a single long stride. “And now we move stuff.”

Helena rolled her eyes. “Very funny. I meant is there any particular way

we get my things over to the new place?”

“Don’t worry, Thorn, all will be revealed in time.”

She ignored the annoying nickname her friends gave her in school and

peered around him. In her driveway, an unfamiliar chalk-white minivan

broke the view of the park beyond.

“Is that yours?” she asked.

“Dad lent me one of his company cars for a day. He specifically told me

not to crash it, so I hope your things won’t weigh down the vehicle.”

Helena hid her irritation behind a false smile. She signalled for him to

accompany her. “Let’s get on with it.”

“Let’s get on with it, please.”

Less than amused, she stared at him.

“Spoilsport.” He ascended the stairs.

They paused at the bedroom door, and he said, “I bet everything in there

is pink and frilly.”

“The more you talk, the more rubbish comes out of the big hole you call a

mouth.”

He clasped his hand over his chest in a dramatic manner. “You wound me

dearly, Thorn.”

With a shake of her head, Helena pushed past him, opening the door.

Andrew assessed the room, his expression betraying a touch of

disappointment.

She smirked. “No pinks and no frills.”

“Baggy clothes, purple hair, and a dull bedroom... How are you still a

girl?”

“Uh-uh.”

Until now, Andrew and Laura had kept the details of their new home a secret.

They wanted to surprise her, and that she was. Her eyes widened at the sight

of the red-brick apartment block that towered over them. To her, it appeared

like a fortress. Perhaps having a castle wasn’t a bad thing, especially when

they could look out those oversized windows at the cityscape.

“This is the place?” she asked.

Andrew watched her with a hint of amusement. “Do you like it?”

She held back an urge to bounce on the spot, so she schooled her face into

slight disinterest. “Until I see the inside, it’s hard to judge.”

“Don’t worry, your highness, we chose it with you in mind.”

She shot him a piercing glare, and he stuck out his tongue. In that

moment, she questioned her decision to move in with her two best friends.

Andrew opened the glass door for her and ushered her inside. This

allowed her to assess the simple white lobby. A chubby guard who manned

the desk near the lift ignored them as they approached. In case something

happened, she didn’t expect him to be of any help.

“Earth to Thorn.” Andrew’s face appeared a few inches away from hers.

The smell of his fresh aftershave filled her nostrils while his forest-green eyes

focused on her. “Do you want to check the place out or not?”

Her cheeks warmed. Desperate to avoid further embarrassment, she

marched to the lifts where she mashed the button until the doors slid open,

and they entered the metal confinement.

With a light laugh, he pressed the button on the panel, and they moved.

On the fifth floor, moss-green carpet and white-walled interior

surrounded them. The morning sun spilt into the corridor in the shades of

blue. Upon arrival at their apartment, Andrew swiped a key card above the

handle.

Helena set foot in the hallway. Her running shoes squeaked along the

polished hardwood flooring. With each step, her eyes widened as she

advanced into a spacious living room. Two leather loveseat sofas greeted

them with a large LED television on the wall. Photographs of the city

landmarks and famous streets littered the walls. She even liked the look of

the small ceramic ballerina on top of the coffee table.

“Just how much is the rent for this place?” Helena asked, eyeing the

grand interior. It was impossible to get a spacious apartment in Dublin

without forking out a tonne of money.

“Laura’s dad owns the whole building, and since he loves his daughter

dearly...let’s say he gave us the place at an affordable rate.”

Helena raised a brow, doubting his answer.

With stealthy steps, Laura emerged behind them and slapped Helena on

the shoulders. “Glad you made it. Where’s your stuff?”

While Helena calmed her pounding heart, Andrew patted Laura on the

head, messing with her strawberry-blonde curls.

Laura Quinn wasn’t tall at five-foot-four, but what she lacked in height

she made up for in personality. An argument with her was like fighting *****

and alone against a horde of savages. Helena recalled a time when they

debated who would win a local singing contest. Her loss turned into an

escapade to bleach and dye her hair purple during a sleepover.

“I thought it would be best to get you in on the action,” Andrew said.

Laura pouted. “My arms ache from bringing my stuff here since you”—

she poked his chest with her index finger—“didn’t bother to help me.”

Andrew raised his hands in defence. “Hey, I went to collect Thorn. She

doesn’t have a car, unlike you. I bet if you wanted help, you’d make the

security guard your man-slave.”

“Very funny, and he’s not my type.”

Helena rubbed her eyes. These two had too much energy, and it wasn’t

even ten in the morning. “I’ll need the key card and the car keys.”

“Don’t worry, Thorn, I’m not going to abandon you and make you carry

your extremely heavy boxes alone,” Andrew said.

Laura crossed her arms. “Fine, jeez, I’ll help.”

“Brilliant. The more the merrier.” Helena started for the door, and Laura

stepped in her way.

“Forgot to ask you, how’s job hunting going? Do you want any help?”

“I’ll manage.”

“Alright, come to me when you’re stuck. Oh, and I’ll show you upstairs

while Andrew goes to get your stuff.” Laura didn’t wait for the reply and

half-dragged Helena up the metal staircase.

“Hey, who’s going to lend me a hand?” Andrew shouted after them.

Laura bent over the bannister. “We will join you soon enough. First, I’m

going to show Helena her room.”

“Right and this has nothing to do with you being too lazy to help. So,

you’re making her slack off, too?”

“We’ll be there in a few,” Laura yelled back. She dragged Helena away,

pushing her into a room on the left. “What do you think?”

Helena’s heart almost melted from happiness. Burgundy walls

encompassed them in a well-lit bedroom. Pale-blue sheets covered the double

bed that sat between two Butternut bedside tables. The furniture wasn’t what

she found to be the best feature of the room. From the window, she caught a

glimpse of the Irish Sea and let out a soft sigh.

“I knew you’d appreciate it. I had to fight my inner instinct to give this

room to you.”

“This scenery is amazing, but why?”

Laura winked. “You can view this as a bribe.”

Helena knew what was coming next. Laura was scheming something, and

this was an intricate attempt to butter her up with a pretend grand gesture of

selflessness. She waited until her friend drew in a breath.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, Hel, but what do you think of Andrew?”

Helena quirked a brow. She expected something regarding household

chores or helping Laura with her college assignments. This was unexpected.

“He’s a friend?”

Laura tapped her foot on the soft black carpet. “I mean as a guy. Do you

see him as a member of the opposite sex at least?”

Helena’s brows drew into a slight frown. “What are you getting at?”

“Okay.” Laura rolled her shoulders as if preparing for a fight. “It

surprised me when he said this. Like, who would have thought, right? And I,

as the best pal to both of you, think this might be a good thing. At first, I had

some apprehensions on the subject. Do you know what I’m trying to say?”

Helena’s frown deepened. “Can you speak in concise sentences and a bit

slower?”

“Jesus, Hel, you’re fast when it comes to anything other than romance.

Basically, Andrew asked me if you liked him.”

“Oh...” She hadn’t considered such an option. Andrew couldn’t be

interested in her. Sure, he teased her a lot, and called her by her nickname she

fought to ignore every time it reached her ears. The idea of dating him

seemed as alien to her as enjoying sports. Was there an upside? She heard

enough stories about friends falling out after starting a relationship. This

bothered her.

“Alright, I can see you’ve gone into your own little world,” Laura said.

“I don’t know how to answer you. I mean, I—”

“Never thought about it.”

Helena nodded.

“Well, give it a think. There’s still time. As for us, we best go and help

him out with your stuff or he will go into a complainathon.”

Helena snorted. “I thought that’s what you do.”

“I will remember that, Thorn. Now, let’s do this.”

Around eight, instead of waiting for the Chinese takeaway to arrive, Helena

went to her room. The splendid evening view from her window went

unnoticed as she switched on the bedside table lamp.

Finally, some peace and quiet, she thought and reached into her suitcase

for the journal.

Helena flicked through its pages, fascinated by the detail of the drawings,

until she found the familiar handwriting and launched into reading the

Russian text. Engrossed in the material, she missed the loud knocking on her

door. When it opened, she slammed the journal shut and swept it under her

pillow.

“What’s wrong?” she asked Laura.

“The food has arrived. I called and knocked but—” Laura pushed her way

into the room and closed the door behind her. “What were you reading?”

Helena thought of a response, something that wouldn’t make Laura think

she was insane for leafing through strange notebooks. “Just something I

found in the attic the other day.”

Laura’s lips formed into a sly smile. “I bet your mum’s romantic

escapades are written in it.”

Laura was a good friend, but sometimes, her curiosity could lead her to

do things that invaded the privacy of others. Helena knew Laura wouldn’t be

able to read it. That alone wouldn’t stop her. With the internet and online

software, anything could be translated. So, Helena played along. “It’s

embarrassing.”

“I knew it!” Laura strode over, her hand outstretched towards where the

journal lay.

Helena shot up; her hands clamped on Laura’s shoulders. “The food will

get cold.”

“Fine, but you’re going to tell me the dirty details later.”

“Sure.” She pushed her friend out of the room and called out to Michael

with her mind.

He replied in an instant. “Has something happened? You sound upset.”

“We’re going to have to talk about what’s inside that journal, and soon.”

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