"If you won't share tales about your patrons," I said, "at least tell us why someone would upset the balance of the earth by tearing arcanite from the soil?"

Cedric's eyes darkened, and the flickering candlelight cast eerie shadows across his face. The air grew colder, and I felt a shiver run down my spine.

"Arcanite? Tearing its raw, unrestrained power from the earth would disrupt the natural balance. It's like ripping the heart out of a living being."

He leaned closer, and I could see the faint glint of something sharp behind his smile. "Vampires like myself understand life and death all too well."

My breath caught in my throat. "Vampires?"

Cedric smiled, revealing a glimpse of sharp fangs that hadn't been there before, and I was aware his focus was on my neck, which I assumed was where my pulse was strongest.

Cedric's eyes narrowed at my question, a playful glint taking over. "You have nothing to fear from me, Evie."

As he spoke, I was aware the murmur of the pub fell away as if the very walls were leaning in to listen. He placed his glass down carefully, lingering on the wood. He looked past me towards the heart of the pub, where an ancient oak beam held centuries of whispered confessions.

"Ripping arcanite from the earth," Cedric said, his voice low and tinged with an emotion I couldn't quite place, "is like taking a piece of the soul from this land. Those who do it seek power, Evie. Power over nature, over magic, over life itself."

"At what cost?" I asked. I couldn't hide my distress at the thought of someone causing such harm.

"The cost," he said, "is often more than they can comprehend. It doesn't just disrupt the land, but everything connected to it. It's like pulling a thread from a tapestry. Pull enough threads and there's nothing left but a frayed mess."

Gethin leaned forward. "Is that why someone killed Thomas Davies? For power?"

Cedric met Gethin's gaze. "Maybe," he said. "Arcanite doesn't just enhance magic. It can amplify one's greed, one's ambition, their darker nature. And in the wrong hands."

He stopped. He looked at me and then back at Gethin.

"In the wrong hands," Cedric said, "it could be catastrophic. It could undo everything we've tried to protect in Llyncroft."

I shivered. I felt it in my bones.

"So whoever is doing this," I began, but I couldn't finish the sentence.

"They don't care about the cost," Cedric said. "Or they think they can control it."

Gethin and I exchanged a glance. We both knew that controlling such power was mad.

Cedric stood up, smoothing out his vest. "That's why we need to find them before they do any more harm."

I watched him stride back behind the bar, resuming his role as congenial host and secret keeper.

Gethin leaned in closer. "Cedric's given us all he will for now. It's not like him to show concern, not openly anyway. That tells us something's deeply wrong. I would trust his instincts on this."

I looked over at Cedric, who was now holding a glass of dark red liquid. I was sure it wasn't red wine.. The way he held it, the way he drank from it, it was as if he was taking strength from the contents themselves.

"The drink," I said. "It's not..."

"It's not for mortal taste buds," Gethin said, smiling. "Do you think I would trust someone so lethal if I didn't know they are full of integrity and safe for the everyday citizen of Llyncroft? I think I trust him more than anyone I know."

I shivered. In a village full of the extraordinary, Cedric's habits were just another secret. I realised how little I knew about the place and the people who lived there. It felt like every corner was hiding a secret.

"If there's more he can tell us, he'll find us," Gethin said, standing up from the table and offering me his hand. "For now, we'd best let him drink."

As we made our way to the door, I felt Cedric's gaze on us. It was full of unspoken words and unshared fears. I felt a chill run down my spine as we left the warmth of the pub.

Outside, night had fully settled over Llyncroft.

"Cedric knows more than he's letting on," I said once I thought we were out of earshot.

"Aye," Gethin said, scanning the darkened streets. "And if it's something that worries a creature as old as him, then it should worry us all."

We walked up the hill to Willow Grove in a heavy silence. I wasn't uncomfortable in Gethin's presence. In fact, I was grateful he was there as the wind seemed to echo my thoughts, pulling at our clothes and whispering uneasiness from the dark woodlands around us. I glanced at Gethin. His face in the moonlight revealed nothing.

"Why do you think Cedric is involved?" I asked. "You and Fiona seemed to think he had something to do with the shadow and the arcanite."

Gethin slowed his pace and thought for a moment. "It's not that we think Cedric is directly involved," he said. "It's more that his kind. They have an affinity for darkness. I trust him, but wouldn't trust most of his kind. "

"His kind?" I said. "You mean vampires?"

Gethin nodded. "Vampires, Evie. They're creatures of the night. They draw strength from the dark and often find themselves involved in matters concerning shadows and other less pleasant things."

"But Cedric runs The Enchanted Oak," I said. "He's part of this community."

"Yeah," Gethin said. "That's what makes it tricky. He's been here for a long time. He's part of the community. He hears things, sees things. More than most people realise. Vampires are often keepers of secrets. They live long enough to have a few."

"So you think he knows more than he's letting on?"

"Most likely," Gethin said. "Vampires are also good at looking after themselves. If Cedric thinks that telling us certain things will put him in danger or upset whatever he's got here in Llyncroft, he won't tell us."

I thought about what he said as we walked up the hill. The Willow Grove came into view, standing out against the night sky.

"What about Fiona?" I said. "Why would she point the finger at Cedric?"

Gethin hesitated. "Fiona and Cedric share a past steeped in magic. It's not my story to tell. Let's just say their history might colour their perceptions of each other."

The night was still as Gethin and I approached Willow Grove, with only the sound of rustling of the leaves, and the occasional hooting owl. This was my image of a romantic evening stroll, although I would never admit that to Gethin.

As we reached the threshold, a figure emerged from the shadowed path leading to the herb garden.

"Agnes?" I called out. I could recognise her petite frame even in the dim light.

Gethin stepped forward. "What's wrong? You look like you're in pain. Are you bleeding?"