"This is it," he said. "The same symbols surrounding what looks like that."

We all leaned in, waiting for him to continue.

"I don't know, but I guess it is a seal," Elias said. "A seal placed to do what? I don't know. "

I made my way back to the Inn, puzzling over the symbols in Elias's book.

When I arrived back at Willow Grove Inn, my heart sank. Red paint was splattered across the front door. It was in insult, an eyesore against the sand-coloured bricks. I clenched my fists and stepped closer, taking in the word "LEAVE" written in hasty, dripping letters.

I shivered. Another warning? Someone was trying to intimidate me. It felt like someone was trying to drive the message home.

I took a deep breath and reached out, touching the paint, which was still wet. Someone had done this with a group of us at the end of the garden and none of us had noticed. I'd faced intimidation before, standing up to those who thought they could bully their way through life.

"I'm not going anywhere," I said to myself, or maybe to Gran's spirit, who seemed to linger in the building's fabric.

I needed to clean this up before any guests saw it. I didn't want them to sense any fear or uncertainty from me or think it was an instruction for them to leave. Even though Gethin was so close, I didn't really want him to know about it, either. He was the sheriff, so I knew would want to do something about it, but I was fed up with him seeing me weak.

I heard footsteps approaching from behind me and turned to see Gethin striding up the path towards the inn. His eyes widened as he took in the defaced door, the smeared red paint like an ugly wound against the pale stone.

"Evie, what happened?" he asked, his voice tight with concern.

I shook my head, anger and frustration burning in my chest. "I don't know. I just found it like this when I came back from the tree."

Gethin moved closer, examining the graffiti with a furrowed brow. His fingers brushed over the drying paint, leaving streaks of red across his skin. I could see the muscle in his jaw tighten as he clenched his teeth.

"This is a threat," he said, his voice low and serious.

I nodded, swallowing hard against the lump in my throat. "It's not the first time. I can handle it."

But even as I said the words, I felt a tremor run through me. The bravado I'd tried to muster up earlier was faltering, replaced by a creeping sense of unease. This wasn't just a random act of vandalism; it was personal, a direct attack on me and my home.

Gethin must have sensed my uncertainty because he closed the distance between us and pulled me into a tight embrace. His arms enveloped me, strong and reassuring, and I leaned into his solid warmth, drawing strength from his presence.

"You don't have to handle it alone," he murmured, his breath stirring the hair at my temple. "That's what I'm here for."

I nodded against his chest, feeling the tension in my body ease as his words sank in.

As he held me, I could feel the anger and fear that had been coiling inside me dissipated, replaced by a sense of comfort and safety.

I caught sight of movement out of the corner of my eye. Ebony, the black cat who had adopted Willow Grove, was sitting on the windowsill watching me with her inscrutable green eyes. She looked like a guardian, a silent sentinel watching over her territory.

"Ebony, have you been sat up here all night?" I said, holding out my hand for her to scent. She head butted my fist. "Did you see who did this?"

The black cat looked at me, the silver charms on her collar jingling. I was reaching out to look at them when her green eyes locked with mine. I could have sworn there was a glint of knowing in them.

Ebony wasn't just any cat. Agnes had suggested she was a familiar, maybe my familiar. If anyone knew the comings and goings of this place, it would be her.

"You know, don't you?" I said. "You saw who wants me gone?"

Ebony blinked and then jumped down from the ledge. She looked back at me as if to say, "Well, are you coming?"

Gethin and I followed her out into the cool morning air. Ebony moved with purpose, slipping through the garden like a shadow. She paused by the old oak tree, where the mysterious metal plate with symbols was hidden.

"Is this connected to the paint on the door?" I wondered out loud.

The cat sat and faced me, her tail wrapping neatly around her paws. She looked from me to the tree and back again.

I knelt beside her, placing my hand on the rough bark of the tree. It felt alive under my touch. If only I could understand what it was trying to tell me.

I looked up as Ebony moved. She sauntered away from the tree and toward the back of the inn, where dense foliage bordered the property. She stopped and looked back over her shoulder.

"You want me to follow you," I said.

Ebony seemed to roll her eyes before she disappeared into the greenery. We had no choice but to follow her.

We followed Ebony as she led us through the undergrowth. She sat down at the edge of the property where the garden met the wilder woods. She was staring at something half-buried under a clump of ferns. I knelt down beside her and pushed aside the fronds to see what she had found.

Gethin stopped me, reaching out to pick up whatever it was. I looked at him curiously, but he simply gave me a pair of gloves. "Always the police officer," he said.

It was a small, leather-bound notebook, the cover weathered, and the corners curled from being out in the elements. I turned it over in my hands.

"It looks familiar," I said to Gethin. "It looked like the notebook Marcus used to carry around with him, where he wrote notes about his stocks and shares, things I didn't want to understand."

"Why would Marcus's notebook be all the way out here?" he said.

"I don't know. Marcus hardly lost anything." I flipped through the damp pages. Most of them were blank or smudged and I couldn't make head nor tail of what was there. "I don't recognise it. It could be his, I guess."

"Maybe, but it's a common brand of book, could belong to anyone."

Gethin put the notebook in a bag and then in his pocket. I would have to ask Marcus about it. If it was his, he would want it back. He said it was his brain. He probably dropped it when he came back the other day. Before I ended it.

I sighed and looked around. The garden felt different this morning, like there was an undercurrent of whispers in the leaves and the soil. Or maybe it was just a sign I needed breakfast.

"Come on then," I said to Ebony, who had been my shadow. "Let's go back."

I made my way back to the inn. I was lost in thought when I felt a sharp sting on the top of my head. "Ow!" I said, putting my hand up to my head. It came away wet and sticky.

I looked at the red paint on my fingers.

My heart race. It was the same colour as the word on my door. I looked around the garden. There was no one there, just the trees and the grass.

"Who's there?" I called out into the garden. My voice sounded stronger than I felt. Ebony sat next to me, on high alert, her ears pricked and her eyes scanning the area.

I waited for a response, for any kind of movement or sound that would give away an intruder. But there was nothing. "Fine," I said under my breath, wiping my hand on my jeans.