Willow's Way

By Cheryl Headford

Cale always told Tay that fairy tales were dark. But they always have happy endings, right?

Taylor Preston is a normal sixteen-year-old whose biggest worries are his GCSE exams. He’s right in the middle of them, but he has a summer of fun with his parents to look forward to after. Or not.

Despite their promise to spend the summer focusing on their one and only son, Tay’s parents, Local Authority specialist foster carers, take on one more special case.

Willow’s arrival throws more than Tay’s summer into chaos. Suddenly, his best friend is possessed by a demon, his parents aren’t his parents after all, and he’s literally living a nightmare in a fairy tale world that as dark as anything Cale ever warned him about. All he has is Willow and a burning desire to save his friend before he succumbs to the demon and Willow kills him.

• Language: English
• Publisher: eXtasy Books Inc
• Release date: Dec 1, 2020
• ISBN: 9781487426101

Book preview

Cale always told Tay that fairy tales were dark. But they always have happy endings, right?

Taylor Preston is a normal sixteen-year-old whose biggest worries are his GCSE exams. He’s right in the middle of them, but he has a summer of fun with his parents to look forward to after. Or not.

Despite their promise to spend the summer focusing on their one and only son, Tay’s parents, Local Authority specialist foster carers, take on one more special case.

Willow’s arrival throws more than Tay’s summer into chaos. Suddenly, his best friend is possessed by a demon, his parents aren’t his parents after all, and he’s literally living a nightmare in a fairy tale world that as dark as anything Cale ever warned him about. All he has is Willow and a burning desire to save his friend before he succumbs to the demon and Willow kills him.

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Willow’s Way

Copyright © 2020 Cheryl Headford

ISBN: 978-1-4874-2610-1

Cover art by Martine Jardin

All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.

Published by eXtasy Books Inc or

Devine Destinies, an imprint of eXtasy Books Inc

Look for us online at:

www.eXtasybooks.com or www.devinedestinies.com

Smashwords Edition

Willow’s Way

By

Cheryl Headford

Dedication

To everyone who knows how dark fairy tales can be.

Chapter One

Life had never been what you might call ordinary for Taylor Preston. His parents were Local Authority foster carers, specialising in difficult children. For as long as he could remember, Taylor had shared his home with other children of varying ages for varying periods of time. He’d put up with tearaway teens and tantrums and with never knowing quite what he’d find when he came home from school every day.

It hadn’t always been easy. In fact, it had never been easy. There’d been tears and tantrums of his own when he’d had to share his parents with children who needed their attention far more than he did. And every time he got used to one of them, maybe even got to like them, they were whisked away, never to be seen again.

Today, he’d come in, thrown his coat and bag on the floor in the hall, as always, and was heading up the stairs when his mother called from the kitchen.

Tay, is that you?

No. I’m the worst burglar in the history of the world. I’ll just pop upstairs and rifle your drawers. Then I’ll be down for the TV.

Leave my drawers alone and come in here. We’ve got a new placement coming tonight, and I want to talk to you about him.

Taylor groaned and dragged his feet to the kitchen. Mam, you promised, he whined. You said you wouldn’t take any new ones until after the holidays. You promised we’d spend some time together this summer.

I know, hun. And I’m sorry, but this is an emergency and it was either us or a children’s home.

Then why not let them go into a home. They’re not bad places these days, and you promised me some time and attention. Besides, I haven’t finished my exams yet. I can do without the distraction.

You’ve got two exams left... maths and art. You don’t need much revision for either, and you know full well you wouldn’t have done any. By the weekend, you’ll be free of compulsory schooling forever.

Taylor rolled his eyes. As if that makes a difference. It’ll be even worse next year. The sixth form is no picnic, you know.

Oh, right. I’m not that old I don’t remember. The work is harder, but you have more free lessons, a brand new lounge to spend them in, and you lord it over the school like you’re something special, with all the little’uns looking up to you.

I’ve had enough of that here. Can’t stand the responsibility. Besides, I already lord it over the school. You know I’m the most popular guy there.

Right. The most modest, too. His mum, Lily, sighed. I’m sorry, Tay, I know it’s a bad time, and I know we promised to focus on the family over the summer, but I just couldn’t say no.

Taylor sat down at the kitchen table and pulled one of the scattered papers towards him. Okay, so what’s the story? He glanced quickly at the photo attached to the paper he was holding. What makes her so special you can’t resist her?

Him, his mother corrected and Taylor, shocked, examined the photo more closely.

His initial cursory glance had shown him a slender, pale creature with an oval face and hair that reached his waist, which was why he’d assumed it was a girl. On closer inspection, he could see quite clearly that it wasn’t.

Yes, he was slender and pale, with white hair that cascaded over his shoulders and fell to his waist, but there was a strength in the delicate features that was definitely masculine, as were the defined abs visible through the plain t-shirt that was a few sizes too small. Taylor found himself fascinated by the boy, who seemed to be around the same age as he was. Although his features were delicate, he wasn’t pretty. There was too much strength and—arrogance maybe—there for that. In fact, he wasn’t conventionally good looking at all, but he was definitely striking.

He doesn’t look very friendly. What’s he done?

"He hasn’t done anything. Haven’t you been listening to a word I’ve said?"

Taylor’s face flushed and he ducked his head as he always did when caught out doing something that he felt guilty about. Sorry. I think I’m in shock.

His mother smiled. He is very... um... interesting, isn’t he?

Interesting? That’s an understatement. Is there something wrong with the photograph or is he really that colour?

What colour? Lily plucked the paper out of his hand and re-examined the photograph.

Well... no colour at all.

It mentions it in the notes. He is very pale, isn’t he?

Pale? That’s one way to put it. He’s white. Everything’s white. His hair, his skin. I’ve never seen anyone like that before.

Not everything’s white. His eyes are blue.

Really? I didn’t notice. He retrieved the photograph and peered at it more carefully. It wasn’t very big or very clear, but as soon as he looked for the eyes, they grabbed him and drew him in. They were large and an almost-unnatural shade of brilliant blue. How had he missed them before? Again, he failed to catch what his mother said.

What’s got into you tonight? You’re away with the fairies.

That’s what he looks like, Taylor said. Are you sure he’s human?

Don’t you dare say that to him.

As if I would. But it’s not natural, is it?

"Depends how you define natural. He has a condition called albinism. It affects a lot of people to a greater or lesser degree. Animals too, like the white tiger and white lions."

I didn’t know they have those.

Oh my God. There’s something the Great and Mighty Taylor Preston doesn’t know.

I do now.

God help us.

Taylor examined the photograph again with more interest. What’s his story?

Apparently, he just appeared one day in the A&E Department of the Royal Glamorgan. They think either someone found him wandering somewhere or his family couldn’t cope with him anymore. No one’s claimed him.

Despite himself, Taylor was interested. What do you mean? Why is it such a mystery? Can’t he tell them where he comes from? Is he retarded or something?

I’ve told you not to use that word, Tay.

Everyone uses that word, all the time.

Not in this house, they don’t.

Whatever. So, is he?

His mum sighed. They think he might be autistic. He doesn’t speak and has some behavioural issues.

Taylor groaned and sat back in his chair. What kind of behavioural issues? We’re not going to have more tantrums, are we? You know I hate walking on eggshells all the time.

I don’t know. It doesn’t say, but if he’s autistic, the chances are there will be. On the upside, you’re not going to have to put up with him at school. He’s not going.

Big deal. I’ve got less than a week left.

Okay, Mr. Miserable, I’m sorry I’m spoiling your life again, but I hope you can appreciate why he can’t go into a children’s home.

Taylor sighed. I know, I know. How long is he going to stay?

I don’t know. They haven’t decided what to do with him yet. It’s probably going to be mid to long-term.

Great news. There goes the family holiday. Looks as if I’m going to have to go feral again for the holidays.

Oh, poor you. Hardly feral. You get fed and watered, and your accommodation is free. Haven’t your friends got plans?

Plenty of them. I told them I wasn’t going to be around much, but I guess I could force myself to join in with some of their crazy projects.

Maybe Willow can join you now and again.

That’s going too far. Wait. Willow? His name’s Willow?

That’s what it says in the notes.

Are you sure he’s not a fairy?

It doesn’t say anything about wings.

Not all fairies have wings.

Of course, you’re the expert.

Tay tilted back on his chair and put his hands behind his head. I’m the expert on everything.

Of course. Sorry, I forgot.

Don’t hold your breath for me taking him off your hands at all. I have my reputation to consider. If I’m seen with someone like that my life is over.

Lily shook her head and grinned.

Taylor was nowhere near being serious, but sometimes he wished his mother wasn’t quite so good at reading him. She knew full-well that if she asked him to take... Willow off for the day to give her a break, he would, no matter how much damage it did to his reputation and social life. At least his friends were used to him babysitting assorted delinquents.

When’s he coming?

Anytime, now. Your father’s gone to pick him up.

Taylor groaned and buried his head in his hands, resting his elbows on the table. A little notice might have been nice... given me a chance to prepare, get used to the idea.

Tell me about it. We only got the call a couple of hours ago, and your father had to pretty much drop everything. I’ve been running around like an idiot trying to get everything ready.

Is there anything I can do to help?

No, you can go up to your room and complain to all your friends. Just come down and say hello when he gets here, okay?

Whatever. Taylor got up from the table. On impulse, he walked around to the other side and hugged his mother.

She looked up at him and smiled, stroking his arm. What’s this for? Not that I’m complaining, she added as he pulled away. She grabbed his arm and pulled him back. I’m not one to look a gift hug in the mouth.

Do you know that you mangle the English language?

Just another way to resist the evil invaders, she said, snuggling into his embrace.

Taylor chuckled. His mother never missed an opportunity to complain about the English occupation of Wales. "You’re such a hypocrite. You complain about the evil invaders, then organize a street party for the royal wedding and jump at a chance of tea with the queen."

Ah well... the royal wedding was just an excuse for a party, and too right, I was going to accept an all-expenses-paid trip to the big city to be recognised for my wonderful work and unceasing efforts on behalf of the children.

Hypocrite.

Actually, the queen is quite nice. Posh like, you know, but nice. She reminded me a bit of your grandmother.

Nain? I don’t think so!

"I said a bit."

What? As in they’re both old?

Nain’s not that old. The queen’s gone eighty.

More like Bopa then.

His mother laughed. "Not at all like Bopa. Heaven forbid those two should meet. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if Bopa gave her a piece of her mind. Who do you think you are in your castle with more money than you can spend? Taking food out of the mouths of our children to pay for your lifestyle. Better you sold the crown jewels, not put them in a box. They’d go to pay for the NHS they would. Pay for better hospitals, more jobs. Of course, she’d say it in Welsh, so the queen wouldn’t understand a word. God forbid she’d ever meet Prince Charles."

"Prince of Wales? Tyler said in a fair imitation of his great grandmother’s manner, if not her voice. When did you move to Wales then? Missed that, did I?"

Get on with you, now. Disrespecting your great-grandmother like that.

Bopa would laugh, you know she would. She knows how to take a joke.

Aye, well... be careful when you’re discussing politics with her. She’ll likely go off on one, and you’ll get caught in the crossfire. There are no jokes when it comes to politics.

Taylor chuckled. I know. I live in a family of dangerous revolutionaries.

I don’t know about dangerous. With her cataracts, I doubt she’d be able to tell friend from foe.

Still chuckling, Taylor gave his mother one last squeeze and headed for his room.

The first things he did after changing out of his school uniform and throwing it in an untidy heap on the floor was boot up the computer and call his best friend, Ally. He barely had time to outline the situation before he heard the front door open and his father’s voice.

Damn. I’m going to have to go. That’s my dad. They’ll be calling me anytime.

Call me back and let me know what he’s like.

Why don’t you come round and see for yourself?

I can’t. I have revision to do.

It’s Friday night. It’s against the law to revise on Friday night when you’ve got the whole of the rest of the weekend to study.

No, I haven’t, because you’ll call me tomorrow and talk me out of studying then too. I’ve got a schedule and—

Bugger your schedule. You’ve only got one exam left, and it’s not until Wednesday. You’ve got plenty of time.

"Plenty of time turns into no time left pretty quickly, especially with you around. Not everyone’s a genius like you, and our GCSE’s are important. Our whole future depends on doing well."

No, it doesn’t, you idiot. All you have to do is get enough to move onto A levels. After that, no one cares what you got at GCSE. And as long as you get good enough A level grades to get into uni no one will care about those either. Besides, qualifications aren’t worth the paper they’re written on these days. No one cares about education. It’s experience employers go for.

So says the boy genius. You don’t have to worry about exams because you fly through them all the time. It’s not fair how little revision you have to do. Mere mortals like myself have to work at it.

Yeah right, a genius. I wish. Then I could think of a way to get out of spending the whole summer with the abominable snowman.

He might not be abominable.

Ally, genius I may be, but lucky I am not, especially when it comes to Mam’s kids.

Try having three brothers if you want to know what it’s really like to have a problem with your mam’s kids.

Your brothers are cool.

To you, they are.

Taylor.

Taylor sighed at the call from downstairs. Gotta go. My mother’s calling me. She called me Taylor, so I’d better be quick. Wish me luck.

Good luck.

Taylor’s stomach churned as he dragged his feet down the stairs. It always did when he met a foster kid for the first time. He never knew what to expect. Sometimes they were cool, sometimes they were nothing but trouble. And in the latter case, he was usually the one who took the brunt. With the new kid—what was his name? Willow? With him, there was no hint of what he’d be like.

They were in the kitchen. They practically lived in the kitchen. His mother was always in there, either cooking or sitting at the big wooden table, doing something or other. Taylor preferred the front room, with its comfy chairs and TV—next to his own room, of course—but he spent a lot of time here, keeping his mother company when his father was working nights. He was a psychiatric nurse in a local psychiatric residential unit and often had night shifts. He said it was to provide for the family. Tay’s mother claimed that it was because he was too soft to say no and couldn’t wait to get out of the madhouse, meaning home.

They were all standing around, looking uncomfortable, which was strange because usually all the members of the Preston family had a gift for making people feel at home. As soon as she spotted him, Taylor’s mother gave a grateful smile and towed him into the room by the hand.

This is our son, Taylor, although everyone calls him Tay. He’s about the same age as you, so you should have plenty to... er... in common. I expect he’ll show you around and introduce you to some of his friends.

Taylor gave her a yeah right, look but didn’t say anything.

This is Willow, Tay. He’s going to be staying with us for a while.

Taylor bit back the temptation to say Yeah, I know. You’ve already told me. This was for Willow’s benefit, not his.

Up close Tay could see Willow was even weirder. Tay had never seen anyone so pale. There was no colour in him at all. Even his long, thick eyelashes were snow white. It made his large, electric blue eyes all the more startling. The black t-shirt he was wearing didn’t help. It just accentuated his strangeness. Tay wondered if he’d chosen it himself, for effect.

Hey, Tay said, in greeting. Welcome to the madhouse.

Taylor, his mother said in her warning voice.

What? He might as well know from the start. Tay grinned at Willow, who stared at him impassively, making no attempt to respond to the banter. Um... did you have a good journey? My dad’s driving can be a bit scary sometimes, but he hasn’t killed anyone... yet.

Tay expected him to either smile or look alarmed, and the complete lack of response startled and confused him. He tried again. I could show you around a bit, if you like. Leave Mam to get on with dinner. She’s a great cook, but she doesn’t do anything in a hurry. If we don’t let her get down to it, we’ll be a pair of walking skeletons before we get fed.

Get on with you, you cheeky ha’p’orth. You don’t exactly look starved.

Tay patted his stomach. Swelling through malnutrition.

Get out of here. You’ll be worrying Willow.

Through the course of the exchange, Tay watched Willow watching him. Willow didn’t seem to be listening to anything said to him—he looked completely disinterested. It made Tay feel uncomfortable.

Would you like to go with Tay, Willow? To look around the house and garden? Willow turned his brilliant eyes on his mum and treated her to his intense gaze. She practically squirmed under the scrutiny. Finally, he nodded, and everyone relaxed.

Tay touched Willow’s arm, and Willow whirled on him with an expression on his face that made Tay take a step back, mentally and physically. The mask of anger was instantly discarded, and Willow’s face became impassive again.

Are you okay?

Willow nodded. Conversation wasn’t going to be easy, and it didn’t seem high on Willow’s priority list. What was on his priority list?

I think you startled him, Tay, his mother said softly. It’s probably best if you don’t touch him.

I’ve got no intention of touching him, Tay said.

Willow glanced between Tay and his mother, then walked out of the room.

Chapter Two

After a moment’s shocked immobility, they all hurried from the kitchen.

Willow? What—

They stopped in the hall. Willow was searching through his bag. It was the only thing he’d brought with him. He straightened, holding a book in his hand. Taking a pen from the spine of the book, he wrote something then handed the book to Lily. Tay peered at it over his mother’s shoulder.

The handwriting was crisp and very neat. The pages of the book seemed to be covered with short, terse messages.

I’m sorry. I’m not good at this.

Taylor exchanged a glance with his mother. Then she handed the notebook and pen back to Willow.

That’s all right, sweetheart. It must all be very strange to you.

Willow nodded enthusiastically.

If there’s anything we can do to make it easier, you must let us know.

Willow frowned, then wrote again and handed it over.

I don’t know what you mean.

Well—

I don’t think this is a conversation to have in the hall, Lily, Taylor’s father said with a hand on her arm. Let’s go back into the kitchen. We can at least sit down. He winked at Willow, who looked really puzzled. She’ll leave you standing in the hall like a beggar if it avoids her having to make coffee.

Jon, Lily exclaimed and whacked him playfully. You’ll have the boy wondering what the hell he’s come into.

I think he’s wondering that already, Taylor said, as his parents headed back to the kitchen.

At the sound of his voice, Willow turned to look at him, and Taylor shuddered at the expression in his eyes. It wasn’t that it was unfriendly, or threatening or anything like that. It was just so intense that Tay felt overwhelmingly intimidated, but he forced himself to smile.

Come on, let’s get comfortable, and you can tell us all about yourself. Was that a flash of fear he saw in Willow’s eyes before they became carefully inscrutable again?

In the kitchen, Lily put the kettle on and sat down. She was met with Willow’s book. Lily is a flower, she read out loud. That’s right, but it’s also my name.

Willow nodded, then took back the book and wrote again.

Lily is a beautiful flower and a beautiful name. Willow is a tree. It’s also beautiful.

Looking a little taken aback, she smiled at him. Thank you. Yes, Willow is a beautiful name. Do you have another name?

Willow frowned and shook his head, looking deeply puzzled as if utterly confused that someone would need more than one name.

My name is Lily, my husband is Jon, and our son is Taylor. Our last name is Preston. I’m Lily Preston, and they are Jon Preston and Taylor Preston.

Taylor thought the explanation a bit silly. Everyone knew that much about names. Wouldn’t Willow be offended at being treated like an idiot? Willow didn’t seem offended at all. He nodded thoughtfully, then wrote in his book again.

Taylor is not a beautiful name. It has no meaning save for one who makes clothes. That is not a beautiful thing.

Well, thank you, Taylor retorted and glared at Willow, who recoiled a little at the tone of Taylor’s voice, his eyes widening.

It depends on the clothes, I suppose, Lily said, trying to defuse the situation.

I have angered you, Willow wrote. I did not intend to.

You told me my name wasn’t beautiful, Taylor said, sounding a little petulant.

It isn’t.

Maybe not to you, but you’re not supposed to say so.

I’m not?

No.

I am expected to lie?

No, not lie, just... well just don’t say it at all.

Willow frowned deeply, then sighed and nodded. I will try to remember, he wrote.

So, what do you like to eat, Willow? I’ve made beef stew for tea. Do you like that?

I will eat what you eat.

I’m pleased to hear that, but what do you like? What’s your favourite food?

He looked at her for a moment, as if calculating whether the question was a trick, then he thought deeply. His lips moved with the depth of his thoughts, as he seemed to be carefully listing foods to select a favourite. Finally, he nodded.

Stag.

Jon whistled. Expensive tastes. Venison is dear, especially stag.

Oh ha-ha, Dad! Taylor said, rolling his eyes. Willow looked confused. It was my dad’s pathetic attempt at a joke, he explained. Dear... expensive... deer... a stag. You know.

Obviously, Willow didn’t know, because his face was blank. His only expression was one of slight confusion. Taylor sighed and shook his head.

Well, I’m afraid you won’t be getting much stag here. We’re more of a pizza and stew household.

Willow smiled and nodded, although it was pretty clear he didn’t really understand.

What do you like to do? Lily tried again, and the confusion deepened. Do you like to read? Watch television? Play games?

Willow nodded eagerly at the play games after having looked blank and confused at the previous two.

What kind of games?

Willow’s hand flew over the paper. Races, hiding, chasing, shooting, throwing.

Lily stopped him. You like being outdoors then?

Willow nodded, a smile of relief on his face.

Then Taylor must show you around the garden. You can spend as much time out there as you like.

Willow lit up and got to his feet, startling everyone. I didn’t mean now, she said, but Willow looked so crestfallen that she hastily qualified her words. You can if you want to.

Willow looked at Taylor and smiled in a hesitant, hopeful way. If he was being honest, Taylor would have said that taking Willow for a walk in the garden was absolutely the last thing he wanted to do. However, the conversation was painful, and he couldn’t wait to get away from the table.

Being careful not to touch Willow after the extreme reaction earlier, Taylor led him into the garden.

Taylor thought his garden was beautiful. It was very large and separated into four sections. Immediately outside the house was a large area of decking with a sunken, heated Jacuzzi, a built-in barbecue, and some well-used furniture, including an old-fashioned swing seat.

Three wooden steps dropped onto long, neat lawns, separated by a gravel path leading down to a rickety wooden gate. Taylor and his friends used to call it the gate to fairyland and when they were very young used to roleplay that was where it went.

On the other side of the gate, the neat lawns gave way to wild bushes and shrubs, interspersed with herbs, wildflowers, dog roses, and trees. The path wound through the chaos in a green tunnel that kept them cool in the summer and stopped the rain during the winter. At the end of the path lay Taylor’s favourite part of the garden—the fishpond. It was a large pool, about twelve feet across and roughly circular. It had been there