Chapter Ten
‘This is stupid,’ I grumbled to Winter as I came out of the last study carrel on the third floor. ‘I don’t know where all the library hidey-holes are.’
‘Quit complaining.’
‘I’ve got sore feet.’ I pulled up a chair and sank into it while he examined a bookshelf, apparently on the off-chance that the metre-long sceptre was hiding behind a volume of ancient witch poetry.
‘You need to check the bathrooms,’ he told me.
‘I think someone would have noticed by now if the sceptre had been hidden in a loo stall. Have you seen how much coffee this lot drink?’ I waved a hand at the studious-looking witches seated near us.
Winter turned. His eyes drifted down to my legs and I realised that the red robe had sneaked its way upward, revealing my lace-edged pyjamas underneath. I sprang to my feet before remembering, through a spasm of pain, that my body still ached all over from yesterday. I grimaced.
‘Are you wearing your pyjamas? Did you not bother getting dressed this morning?’
I folded my arms. ‘Does it matter?’
Winter heaved a sigh as if the woes of the world lay across his broad shoulders. ‘I suppose not.’
He walked away from me, heading towards the small room where the Cypher Manuscripts were kept. He really was leaving no stone unturned. ‘Stay there,’ he snapped.
Suited me. I didn’t want to taint the ancient magical archives with my presence anyway. I closed my eyes. A moment or two later, Winter reappeared. ‘The sceptre’s not there.’
‘Are you sure?’ I asked. ‘Maybe you should double check.’
I opened an eye and peeked at him. He was staring at me with undisguised exasperation. ‘Come on. There’s still the basement to go through.’
Whoopdeedo. I heaved myself up and trailed after him, wishing I were just about anywhere else in the world. At least when I was driving the taxi I got to sit around for most of the day instead of just the odd minute or two.
We made our way downstairs, pausing at an unassuming door on the ground floor. Winter rattled the doorknob. When it appeared to be stuck, he shoved his shoulder against the door to force it open. I glanced down and realised I was standing on a crack in the marble floor. I jumped to the side and let out a hiss. Damn it.
The door finally banged open and I peered around Winter into the darkness beyond. ‘Maybe we should take a break first,’ I suggested. ‘Tea and tiffin.’ Suddenly I felt a prickle across the back of my neck and half-turned. Standing on the other side of the room was Tarquin, his dark eyes fixed on me. ‘Forget I said that,’ I muttered. ‘Bring on the basement!’
‘What on earth are you wittering about?’ Winter asked.
‘Nothing.’ I nudged him. ‘Come on. Let’s investigate!’
‘Sometimes, Ms Wilde, I wonder whether you are entirely there. You don’t seem able to concentrate on any one thing for more than a minute.’
‘It’s because my mind is filled with so many great and important matters,’ I informed him airily.
Winter snorted. ‘Like tea and tiffin?’
Ah. So he had heard me. ‘Let’s just get this over and done with.’
The corner of his mouth crooked up. ‘Your wish is my command.’
If only.
The staircase leading down was narrow, as you’d expect from somewhere heading into a dingy dungeon type of place. I half expected to be attacked by vampire bats or giant cobwebs. The overhead light buzzed annoyingly and the steps were so uneven that I almost tripped and collided with Winter’s back. There wasn’t a soul, animal or human, in sight.
After what seemed like an age, we reached the foot of the staircase. The space in front of us was cavernous, filled with endless stone archways. There were also a lot of old boxes and filing cabinets. From where I was standing, I counted dozens of the darn things. We’d be here forever.
‘You’re an Adeptus Exemptus,’ I said.
‘Yes.’
‘So you must have a few runes up your sleeve for tracking objects. Can’t you do something so we can be out of here by next century?’ I was sure I’d heard of such spells; if only I’d bothered to seek them out. But then, why go to such trouble when Adeptus Exemptus Winter could do it for me?
‘If such spells existed and were reliable,’ Winter answered, ‘don’t you think I would have already tried them to find the sceptre?’
I shrugged. ‘Maybe they only have limited reach. Surely you know something that will be successful in an enclosed space like this.’
‘There are runes which could work. But only around thirty per cent of the time.’ His tone was brisk and brooked no nonsense but I wasn’t ready to give in yet. Where magic was involved, there is always an easier way.
‘Aw, Winter baby,’ I coaxed. ‘It’s worth a shot. Even if only to flex your magical muscles and show me what you’re really made of.’
‘Winter … baby?’
I couldn’t tell whether he was annoyed or amused. ‘Well, you keep telling me to stop calling you Adeptus Exemptus.’
He stepped towards me until he was barely inches away. ‘And,’ he said in a low voice, ‘if you call me baby, what should I call you?’
I considered. ‘Boss would work.’
‘Not happening.’ He leant closer. ‘How about honey?’
I met his eyes. I felt surprisingly hot and bothered. ‘Are you flirting with me?’
‘Trust me, Ivy. When I flirt with you, you’ll know all about it.’
I couldn’t help wondering whether that was a threat or a promise. I licked my lips. ‘Those runes…’
He moved back, the mention of work making him return immediately to his usual business-like self. ‘I suppose they’re worth a try.’ He glanced at me sideways. ‘Watch carefully. You might learn something.’
I fixed my gaze on his hands. He raised them, using not one but both to sketch out the rune. This was complex stuff indeed. No wonder he was held in such high regard. Not that I was going to let him know I was impressed. ‘Nothing’s happened,’ I remarked.
Winter rolled his eyes. ‘The spell only works for me.’ He paused. ‘But then you knew that, didn’t you?’
I grinned.
He walked forward, swinging his head from side to side as he passed each stack of boxes. I had a fairly good idea how this would go down. Nothing would register and we’d still have to search the place from top to bottom. All the same, I ambled along behind him, taking the opportunity for some momentary peace and quiet to relax.
About halfway along, Winter halted, his back ramrod straight. It was so unexpected and I was so lost in the swirl of my own chaotic thoughts that I didn’t notice until I was almost past him. ‘What is it?’
He swivelled round to his left where a shabby pile of card boxes lay, stacked in an untidy heap. It was a wonder they’d not toppled over.
‘No way,’ I breathed. ‘Was I actually right?’ I bellowed a laugh. ‘Is the sceptre really here?’ I started bopping around. ‘The non-Order witch saves the Order’s hide. Who’s the boss now? Eh? Eh?’
‘Shut up.’
I supposed I wasn’t acting like a particularly gracious winner but it still felt good. I stopped talking but I was still bouncing.
Winter strode over to the boxes and started pulling them off the pile, one after the other. After the first four or five, he turned and glared at me. ‘I suppose it would be too much to ask for a little help?’
‘As you’ve already said, the spell doesn’t work for me. I have no way of knowing which box the sceptre is hiding in. So it’s probably better if you do the heavy lifting.’
Even from several feet away, I could see Winter grit his teeth. ‘Except,’ he muttered, ‘I don’t think it’s in any of the boxes.’
I eyed the pile. ‘It’s underneath?’ No wonder the stack resembled the Leaning Tower of Pisa. Although you had to wonder at the First Level witches who would go to such lengths for a prank. Surely they’d have made their point if they’d simply left the stupid thing on the top?
‘Just get over here.’
I took my time shuffling over. Winter was picking up and discarding boxes so quickly, he already had a sheen of sweat across his brow. I reached out and placed my hand on his arm. ‘Allow me,’ I said kindly. I drew the same rune I’d used yesterday in the gym that made all the boxes, regardless of their size or weight, feel as light as air. Winter reached for another one and almost fell backwards at its unexpected lightness.
‘What did you do?’ he asked.
‘Just a little spell I picked up during my time out in the wilderness,’ I said smugly. I grabbed a box and lifted it up, using only the tip of my index finger. I pretended to groan and strain.
‘You did this yesterday, didn’t you? You had the same expression on your face when you were lifting weights.’
Uh oh. ‘Nooooo.’ I shook my head. ‘I wouldn’t do such a thing.’ I tossed the box to one side, put my hands behind my back and began to whistle, avoiding Winter’s glare.
‘Unbelievable.’
I cocked my head. ‘Is it though?’
‘You probably expended more energy avoiding exercise than doing the exercise itself.’
Somehow I doubted that. ‘Chill out,’ I drawled. ‘You need to realise that the path of least resistance is always the best.’
‘This is like dealing with a toddler.’
I raised my eyebrows. ‘You’re the one throwing your toys out of the pram.’
‘Whenever I think that we might be able to make this work, you revert to type. You’re almost entirely untrained and yet look at the talent you’ve got. You’re wasting it all.’ He seemed genuinely angry.
‘Well, look at you!’ I shot back. ‘Ninety per cent of the time you’re a sad sack jobsworth who can’t crack a smile unless it’s on Order instructions. Then you show flashes of fun and a sense of humour and genuine thoughtfulness. It doesn’t last though, does it? All work and no play makes Jack a very dull boy.’
‘All play and no work makes Jack a mere toy,’ Winter retorted. ‘I didn’t ask for this, you know. I didn’t even want a partner.’
‘Is that supposed to make me feel better?’
Winter turned away, shoving his hands into his pockets. He was very, very pissed off. And to think that a few minutes ago we’d almost been flirting. I grimaced and reached out, gently touching his shoulder.
‘I’m sorry,’ I said gruffly. ‘Obviously, we’re just opposites who’ve been thrown together through no fault of our own. We rub each other up the wrong way. My priorities are different to yours.’ I sighed. ‘I won’t cheat again.’
‘Is that what you said eight years ago?’
I bit my lip. Winter cursed and looked back at me. ‘Let’s just find the sceptre and get out of here. Alright? We’ll worry about this … partnership later.’
I nodded. ‘Yeah. Okay.’ I paused. ‘Should I undo the spell on the boxes?’
‘Don’t be ridiculous.’ And then he closed his mouth and stopped speaking altogether.
In silence, we made short work of the rest of the boxes, tossing them to the side and clearing the way. Despite having been moved round the previous day, they still kicked up a lot of dust, making me sneeze violently on several occasions. The rest of the time, I kept my head down and avoided looking at Winter.
We finished moving the boxes and stared down at the dusty floor. There was no shiny golden sceptre waiting to be rescued – but there was a trapdoor. A single padlock, which was obviously brand new, gleamed up at us. I didn’t need to glance at Winter to feel his tension.
Reaching into his pocket, Winter crouched down and took out a small amount of dried knotweed. He blew it into the padlock and released the lock. He unclipped it and placed it carefully to one side, while I lifted up the trapdoor and gazed downwards into the dark, dank hole that had been revealed. It was little more than a foot and a half wide and there was a rope ladder stretching downwards. The air that rose up from beneath felt humid. I was betting that somewhere down there was water. Knowing my luck, this led directly to the Order sewers. How lovely.
Determined not to complain again and give Winter more cause to snap, I twisted round and began to climb down, swaying dangerously on the first few rungs until I found my balance. It was difficult to keep going, not least because the further I went the darker it got. Above my head, I felt Winter test the ladder’s strength then, apparently deciding that it wouldn’t hold both of us, he pulled back and waited while I continued to descend. I looked neither up nor down; I simply kept ploughing on. I’d wanted to be anywhere other than the library and this was what I got. Be careful what you wish for indeed.
The basement light from above was only just visible by the time my feet landed on solid ground. I tugged on the rope ladder to let Winter know he could come down then used a rune to magic up enough light to see. It definitely looked like a sewer. It smelled a lot like a sewer too.
There were concrete paths on either side of a small, unnatural looking river of gunk. From behind me there was a skittering sound as a rodent of some kind darted along on its merry way. I shivered; mice were one thing but sewer rats were entirely different. The curved walls on either side were covered in dark, slimy moss that only added to atmosphere of despair. If the person who’d stolen the sceptre had brought it down here, I’d certainly award them a gold star for determination.
I edged forward and peered into the gloom, half expecting to see the eyes of some tunnel-dwelling monster staring back at me. As far as I could tell, I was completely alone. Then something touched my back.
I leapt about a foot in the air, banging my head on the low ceiling and almost slipping into the smelly river below. The only reason I didn’t was because Winter grabbed my arm and hauled me to safety. I blinked at him in acknowledgment. I’d have expressed my gratitude but he was the one who’d scared me in the first place.
He turned to the slime on the walls and immediately began bagging some of it up, no doubt for some spell he was planning later. This is one of the many reasons why I prefer focusing my energies on runes rather than herbs. If you have to climb into a sewer to get the ingredients you need, I reckon it’s probably never going to be worth it.
Winter jerked his head downstream, in the opposite direction to which I’d been facing. I nodded and gestured at him to proceed. With his face set in a grim mask, he moved off. For once, he wasn’t marching along like an army colonel. One false move and he’d be on his arse. As entertaining as that might be, the last thing I wanted was for him to bring me down with him.
I followed gingerly, matching him step for step. My light spell continued to illuminate the way but all we could see was more of the same.
We traipsed along for a good eighty metres. We had to be getting close to the end of the building by now. The sceptre might have been taken down to the very bowels of the earth but the wards preventing it from leaving the walls of the library without permission would still hold. It couldn’t be far away. I cursed whoever had sent us on this wild goose chase. If Winter spent his days investigating trivial matters like this, I couldn’t understand why he took his work so seriously. Arcane Branch: what a waste of time. I was just about to tell him so when he stopped abruptly and pointed across the river to a gap in the wall. Some broken bricks were lying underneath it as if it had been created deliberately.
I flicked my fingers, making the illumination spell drift over so we could see for sure. The light hovered, its glow bouncing off the tip of the sceptre, which was barely visible inside the hole. I eyed it thoughtfully. Considering the lengths the so-called thieves had gone to in order to bring the sceptre down here, they hadn’t done a particularly adept job of concealing it. Even with Winter’s locator spell we could have walked right past it if they’d replaced the bricks.
Without waiting for me to say or do anything, Winter leapt over the river, landing with a barely audible thump on the other side. Well, that was a manoeuvre I wasn’t likely to copy any time soon; chances were I’d miss and end up waist deep in whatever nasty gunk was beneath us. I peered down. Whatever was down there, it included some incredibly large objects. Didn’t some heartless people flush baby alligators down their toilets? Was that a long snout or a branch?
My brow creased. Whatever it was, it was moving strangely as if fighting against the flow of water rather than being carried along with it. That didn’t make any sense unless…
I whipped my head up just as Winter reached into the hole in the wall to grab the sceptre. ‘Stop!’ I yelled.
He pulled it out, holding it lightly in one hand and turned to frown at me. ‘What?’
It was too late. There was a faint rumble, almost like distant thunder. If this were Hollywood, there would have been time to make a run for it. Unfortunately, we were in real life. There was barely time to blink before the wall of ferociously churning water hit us.
I was immediately swept off my feet. I thought I heard Winter yelling my name but I might have imagined it in the roar. I couldn’t see anything and, no matter how frantically I tried to kick or swim or grab for the side, the gush of water was simply too strong. It was freezing cold, already chilling me to my very bones. The temperature wasn’t the most pressing danger, however – it was the flotsam and jetsam crashing along with the water. Something metal scraped along my thigh, sending a bolt of flaring pain up through my body. Something else slammed into the side of my skull. And the water kept coming.
I had no way of knowing which way was up and which way was down. My lungs were burning and I needed air. The red robe I was wearing snagged on something and my body was yanked backwards, momentarily halted against the flow of water. It was enough. I twisted and turned, swallowing water as I desperately sought oxygen. Then my head broke upwards and I could breathe. I took in a scant two mouthfuls before the fabric of the robe ripped and I was cast away again.
This time, the robe wasn’t helping me. Instead it was dragging me down, a sodden mess that would end up pulling me into a watery grave if I didn’t get rid of it. My fingers scrabbled at the buttons, desperately trying to undo them, but it was too cold and the current was too strong. Completely disorientated again, I tumbled this way and that, blood thumping in my head like the bass drum of a crazy thrash metal band screaming out an anthem for death. I gasped for air once more and then held my breath, squeezing my eyes shut and trying to concentrate. It was next to impossible to manage a rune here but I still had to try.
I moved my right hand, feeling the magic course through me as I threw all my energy into it. Then another object slammed into my back and I was thrown off course, the power of the rune fizzling away before I could complete it.
A feeling of complete calm overtook me. The tiny logical part of my brain that remained knew that this was my body preparing itself for the inevitable. I no longer minded. This was where it was going to end. I couldn’t really complain; I’d had a fairly good innings and the good thing about dying young was that I’d probably get a decent number attending my funeral. I hoped someone would be sensible enough to look after Brutus for me. I hoped Bell End and Alice didn’t starve to death in Eve’s flat.
‘The sceptre! Ivy, grab the sceptre!’
Winter’s barely audible yell registered dimly. Good grief. The man really did take his job seriously if he was drowning and still worried about that stupid thing. I opened my eyes, catching sight of him a few metres ahead of me before another wave of water crashed over my head. Why wasn’t he moving?
He thrust the tip of the sceptre in my direction and, without thinking, I took hold of it. Then my body slammed against an invisible wall and pain flared through me, expelling even the cold from my veins.
‘Don’t let go!’
I groaned. ‘What?’
Winter’s face swam towards mine. ‘Don’t let go!’
My grip tightened as the pain increased. Of course, I thought dully, the ward. The water had carried us from one end of the building to the other and, because Winter hadn’t released his hold on the sceptre, the magic was preventing him from going any further. He was holding one end of the sceptre while I held the other and, as long as we were touching it, the avalanche of water around us couldn’t break through. The downside to all this was the agony of the ward itself. I howled, swallowing more foul water as I did so. It was excruciating. My very atoms were screaming.
‘The water!’ Winter shouted. ‘It’s stopping. Just a few moments longer, Ivy. You can do this.’
No, I didn’t think I could. I gritted my teeth and tried to cling on. It was like being stabbed by a thousand knives all at once, while standing in an arctic tsunami. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t do it. The water was still sucking me under, dragging at my useless robe. The Order were going to kill me after all. Death by dangerous dressing.
Then Winter’s hand grabbed me. ‘You see? It’s going down. We’re alright, Ivy. We made it.’
He was right: the water level was sinking rapidly, from my shoulders down to my torso. What had been Hokusai-inspired waves were now gentle undulations. I gasped and gulped and finally let go of the sceptre. My body jerked a few feet, still pulled by the under-current, but it wasn’t long before I could stand up.
I reached for the side, my hands clinging to the warm concrete. I tried to heave myself over the edge and back to safety but the damn robe was still in the way. With shaking fingers, I undid enough buttons to push it over my shoulders and down to my waist. I kicked it free of my feet and hauled myself onto the walkway. I rolled onto my back and tried to calm my breathing.
Winter’s hands reached for me, pulling me backwards until my back was against his body. ‘We’re both too cold,’ he muttered. ‘We need to warm up or we’ll freeze before we can get help.’
I pushed back into him, seeking his warmth as he sought mine. Then I sketched out the rune for fire and, right by our feet and without any fuel, flames roared to life, casting heat in our direction. Winter was shivering as much as I was but we clung to each other. Shivering was good. Shivering meant we were still alive. And against all the odds, as well.