Epilogue
He stood outside, hands shoved in his pockets and a flat, grim line across his mouth. The pub was well lit and busy. Every time the door opened to welcome a new patron, the sound of appalling music drifted out. He half turned to leave. This was a pointless venture; the sensible thing would be to go home right now. There were reports to write and he knew that it wouldn’t be long before he had another time-consuming assignment to occupy both his days and nights. Besides, she didn’t want him there.
The door opened again and a group of friends fell out, giggling and stumbling towards him. From inside, the music faded away to a burbling voice. ‘Our next victim is the fabulous Ivy Wilde who…’ The door banged shut, muffling the words.
Winter sighed. Then his feet swerved round the happy group and into the pub’s interior almost of their own volition.
Ivy’s friend, if that’s what he was, was pushing her up onto the small stage. She was laughing, her blonde curls bouncing and catching the light, but he could see the reluctance in her eyes even from this distance. She turned in his direction, her chin angling upwards and he hastily veered left towards the bar and caught the eye of the barman.
By the time he had a whisky in hand, Ivy was already onto the second verse. Her cheeks were rosy pink and there was a tremor to the fingers that were clutching the microphone. She wasn’t a particularly bad singer but her lack of enthusiasm made her painful to watch. He wished that she wouldn’t sway her hips like that. The movement only served to accentuate her curves and, despite the quality of the whisky, his mouth felt uncomfortably dry.
Regardless of her reluctance, the crowd seemed to appreciate her efforts. They were certainly whooping and cheering loudly enough. The more they yelled, the more confident Ivy grew with both her singing and her dancing, to the point where she replaced the microphone back on its stand and abandoned her sultry swaying for more energetic movements. What no one seemed to have noticed was that she also seemed to be inching closer and closer to the edge of the stage. It wasn’t a long drop – probably less than a metre – but she’d no doubt had one or two drinks already and she could fall and hurt herself. That was what he told himself when he pushed his way through the crowd to get closer to her.
‘Oi!’ A fat man holding the dregs of a pint of beer glared at him. Winter glanced in the man’s direction, which was enough to make him immediately subside. Winter nodded, satisfied.
He’d just reached the front of the stage when Ivy whipped round with alarming speed, as if attempting a pirouette. Her sparkling eyes fixed on him and widened. Unfortunately, her surprise was also her undoing: her feet kept moving but her body didn’t follow and, almost in slow motion, she began to topple forward. Winter didn’t pause. He braced himself, held out his arms and caught her as she fell.
‘Oooomph!’ Ivy coiled her arms round his neck and beamed up at him. She smelled of honey and sunshine and just the tiniest smidge of ancient magic. He breathed in deeply. ‘My hero!’ she burbled.
Winter stared down at her, his expression inscrutable. ‘Are you trying to maim yourself?’ he inquired.
Her smile widened. ‘I know, right? This is why I hate doing karaoke. It’s far too energetic.’
‘Ivy! Are you alright?’ Her dark-haired friend appeared, concern on his face.
Ivy extricated herself from Winter. ‘Apart from the horror of that song, Iqbal, I’m good.’ She reached up and patted Winter’s chest. ‘My partner saved me.’
Winter’s jaw clenched. ‘We’re not partners any more.’
For a moment a shadow crossed Ivy’s face then she brightened again. ‘You should count yourself lucky,’ she grinned. ‘I’m far too much like hard work.’
It was on the tip of Winter’s tongue to tell her that she should know by now that he liked hard work. But someone else was bearing down on them, throwing shot glasses in their direction.
‘Tequila!’ Ivy smacked her lips. ‘I really shouldn’t.’ She took one anyway and downed it.
Iqbal grabbed another glass and thrust it at Winter. ‘Adeptus Exemptus, I think you deserve one for that catch.’
Under any other circumstances Winter would have refused but he knew that was what Iqbal was expected, so he took the glass and tipped it back, wincing slightly as the fiery liquid burned down his throat.
‘Good man!’ Iqbal clapped him on the shoulder. ‘Let’s get another round!’ He headed off to the bar.
‘Come on.’ Ivy tugged Winter’s elbow. ‘We’ve got a table in the corner.’
He allowed himself to be led through the crowd. Ivy plonked herself down on one of the chairs with a happy sigh. Winter debated for a moment then joined her. ‘Who’s your friend?’ he asked, his tone harsher than he’d intended. ‘You didn’t introduce us earlier when he gave you the ossombe root.’
‘Huh?’ Ivy looked blank for a moment then realised who he was talking about. ‘Oh, you mean Iqbal. We go way back.’ She waved her hands around. ‘He’s a good guy. He just likes karaoke too much.’ Her eyes fixed on him. ‘What’s going on back at the Order?’
‘Do you really want to know?’
She pursed her lips. ‘I risked life and limb, Winter. I think I deserve to know.’
‘Rafe,’ he found himself saying. ‘You should call me Rafe.’
A softer smile curved round Ivy’s mouth but before she could say anything Iqbal reappeared with another tray of shots. He placed it on the table. ‘I got a selection!’ he yelled over the music. ‘I wasn’t sure what you’d all like.’
Ivy beamed her approval and chose a glass at random. Winter watched as she took a delicate sniff then shrugged. ‘Bottoms up.’
Winter picked up one of the little glasses without looking at it. He kept his eyes on Ivy, clinking his glass against hers before he drank.
Iqbal cleared his throat. ‘So, Adeptus,’ he said. ‘What’s going on back at the Order now that the truth has been revealed?’
‘I just asked that!’ Ivy said. ‘Tell us!’
Winter shrugged. The news would be in the morning papers so there wasn’t any point in staying quiet. ‘The Ipsissimus is putting in an immediate review of all promotional procedures. Everyone who’s achieved a position beyond First Level is going to be scrutinised. It’ll take months but it’ll be worth it.’
‘What about Bell End and Alice?’ Ivy asked. A curl had fallen across her forehead and Winter itched to brush it away. He put his hands under table instead.
‘Who?’
‘Uh, Bellham. Matthew Bellham and Alice Fairclough. What’s happened to them?’
‘They’ve been released but they’re on probation.’ Ivy scowled. ‘They were acting under orders.’
She snorted indelicately. ‘That’s no defence.’ Privately, Winter agreed.
Ivy got clumsily up to her feet. Winter automatically stood too but she merely gave him a confused look. ‘I’m off to the ladies’ room,’ she declared. ‘I need a pee. Are you coming too?’
‘I was being a gentleman,’ he muttered. She didn’t hear him – she was already bustling through the crowd.
Winter sat down and picked up another glass without thinking. Iqbal smiled. ‘To the Order!’
‘To the Order.’ Winter gulped it down. He glanced behind him; there was no longer any sign of Ivy.
Iqbal leant across the table. ‘What are your intentions?’
Winter blinked back at him. ‘Excuse me?’
‘With Ivy,’ Iqbal said, a sudden sharp focus in his dark eyes. ‘She likes you a lot, you know, but she’s more vulnerable than she lets on.’
Winter’s skin was beginning to itch. ‘I like her too. She’s an extraordinarily talented witch. It’s a real shame she’s not in the Order.’
Iqbal watched him. ‘That wasn’t what I meant.’
Winter looked at him. Ivy hadn’t answered his question properly before. ‘Are you and her…’ he began.
‘No. But she’s a good friend.’ Iqbal turned as someone shouted his name from the other side of the room. ‘I should go. It was nice to meet you again, Adeptus Exemptus Winter. Be nice to Ivy.’ He walked off, just as the woman in question returned. Winter saw him lean his head down towards her ear and murmur something. Ivy’s cheeks turned an adorable shade of pink and Winter frowned.
She pushed her way back through the crowd to the table. ‘I’ve done my duty and sung my songs,’ she said. ‘And now I want to go home and sleep for three days.’ Her eyes twinkled. ‘I think I deserve it.’
‘I think you do,’ he returned. ‘I’ll walk you out.’
It seemed far colder outside than it was when he’d arrived. The cool air hit him almost immediately and he realised that drinking on an empty stomach had affected him considerably. He wasn’t the only one: Ivy swayed alarmingly and banged into him. He just managed to shoot out his arms and hold her upright. ‘Be careful,’ he said gruffly. ‘You’re drunk.’
Ivy gave a peal of laughter. ‘So are you!’ She tugged at the spot on her arm where the binding had been placed. ‘We made a good team, you know. I’m almost sorry it’s all over.’
He folded his arms. ‘Almost?’
She didn’t hear him. ‘You’re a good guy, Adeptus Exemptus Raphael Winter.’ She peered at him. ‘And you really do have the most amazing blue eyes. They’re the colour of the Mediterranean on a sunny day.’ She leant in closer. ‘Or lapis lazuli.’ She pushed herself up on her tiptoes to get an even closer look. ‘You know, in Italy and Spain Prince Charming is known as the Blue Prince.’
He gazed down at her, a strange knot in his chest. ‘You’re too wonderfully stubborn to be Cinderella,’ he told her. ‘You’re far more kick-ass than she is. No wicked stepmother would ever make you act like a servant.’ He paused, aware that he was starting to babble. ‘And you don’t need a magical ballgown to be beautiful.’
Ivy smiled. ‘I’d rather be Sleeping Beauty. I think she’s more up my street.’
Winter laughed.
She arched an eyebrow at him. ‘Not because she spends so long in bed but because of how she’s rescued.’ Slightly flummoxed, Winter stared at her. Ivy tutted. ‘Maybe you’re the one who needs rescuing.’
Then she kissed him.
***
‘Winter!’ The voice penetrated the folds of his sleep. ‘Winter!’
‘Mmm.’ He opened his eyes blearily. For a brief moment, he felt utterly content. Ivy was staring down at him, her hair mussed up and her lips faintly bruised. He didn’t think he’d ever seen anything more beautiful. That was when he realised her expression was one of horrified alarm.
He shot bolt upright. Ivy clutched the duvet. ‘Hi,’ she said. She looked more awkward than he’d ever seen her – and that included in the gym on that first morning.
He frowned as a thought occurred to him. Didn’t she remember last night? They’d both been tipsy. He stilled. Had he taken advantage of her? Ice ran through his veins.
Ivy peeked underneath the duvet at herself, then she peeked underneath the duvet at him. She tried to smile but it was obvious how shocked she was to find them both without a stitch of clothing.
‘Hey,’ he said. He cleared his throat. Damn it. ‘Um.’ This was not going well. ‘So.’
Her tongue darted out to wet her lips. ‘So.’ She didn’t look upset so much as incredibly uncomfortable. Winter realised with a sinking feeling that she was embarrassed.
Willing to do just about anything to make her feel better, he shifted slightly. ‘We should probably never speak of this again.’
Ivy nodded vigorously. ‘Absolutely!’ she said, jumping on his words with an alacrity that dismayed him. ‘It never happened.’ She scooted to the edge of the bed. Winter dropped his gaze. He was a prize idiot.
Without warning, Ivy yanked hard on the duvet and wrapped it around herself then raced for the bathroom – to get away from him, he thought. She slammed the door shut behind her. Winter sighed and turned away. He should get his clothes and get out of here. Ivy was obviously filled with regret. He couldn’t look at her face when he felt so very differently.
He reached down to grab his trousers. Brutus sauntered over and head butted his legs before sitting down and looking up at him with slitted eyes. ‘The trouble,’ the cat said, ‘with consorting with partners of oppositional temperaments, is that next morning one can never be sure whether they are too giddy with delight to express their thoughts or too horrified.’
Then he winked.