Cupid & The Cursed Cup (WAYHAUGHT)

Chapter 4

The car door open, Waverly ran for her life, managing to get to the small bridge just before the pub. A hand grabbed her collar. "Not so fast. You have something of ours."

She let out a scream, her elbow instinctively shooting back as she had been taught in self-defence classes. No time to think, she felt the grip on her clothing release momentarily, allowing her to wriggle free. Pulling away, the only escape route was along the gravel towpath beside the canal.

She was running, two men now in pursuit, her life dependent on whether she could outrun those who were coming for her. Whatever they thought she had, whoever they thought she was, she was certain her life was in danger. Small stones crunched under her feet as she pounded along the path, gasping as her legs carried her as fast as they could. There were footsteps behind, getting nearer, she couldn't tell if it was one person or two, her head craning a little to check. Only one. Only one was now following her. Where was the other one, she thought, as she picked up speed.

The lights of the marina were a welcome sight. A way off, but not that far, she gauged. She could make it. She had to make it. Someone would be in, her lungs beginning to hurt, someone on one of the boats would be able to help. No more than a hundred yards now, she guessed, pushing herself on. Nearer, and nearer, she could see smoke drifting up from several narrowboat chimneys, a feeling of relief someone might be able to help.

A sudden shove between the shoulder blades sent her flying, landing heavily on the grassy verge alongside the path. A knee pressed into her back, her arms pulled behind, her wrists tied tightly, her body flipped over like a fish in a frying pan. "You really shouldn't have done that," the man instructed, "I've a good mind to throw you in just for that. Teach you a lesson. Teach you not to go running off."

The other man approached, a rope in his hand, tying it round her waist. "Too right, let's dunk her. Want to see her eyes when she comes up for air."

"Please," Waverly begged. "I'm sorry. Whoever you are, whatever you want, I'll go with you. I'm just a local journalist. I'm not that important."

The two men hauled her up, moving her to the edge of the canal. "A wet one, more like it." Another shove to her back. "In you go ducky."

+ + + +

Waverly sat nursing the last of her tea, not wanting to go upstairs. The final sip taken, she placed her cup back on the saucer looking over at Nan who was busy slurping the last of hers. "Have you lived here long?" she asked, a polite enquiry plucked from the many questions swirling in her head, not really interested in knowing its answer.

"A while. Too long to recall," Nan replied, reaching across for Waverly's cup, turning it over, allowing the tea leaves at the bottom to scatter across the saucer. "You haven't asked me the question you most want to ask. I can see it in your eyes. It's in the eyes of everyone N brings to me."

Waverly studied Nan's face. Old, wise, deep lines, a pale, ghostly complexion. "How do you know N?"

Nan returned her gaze to the saucer. "Very interesting. Not seen this before. Who did you say you are?"

"Waverly Earp. Journalist. You didn't answer my question."

"Waverly Earp. Earp. You from round here?"

"Yes. Well, I am. My family moved here shortly before I was born."

"Your leaves tell me you hold the key."

"How? How can leaves possibly tell you that?"

"That symbol there in the middle," Nan replied, pointing to a splodge of leaves that meant nothing to Waverly. "And, that symbol in the top right, very auspicious. Although, I don't like the look of the two at the bottom. Be careful, that's all I say. Especially who you trust."