Chapter Three

 

I took Brutus with me. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust Eve to look after him while I was away so much as I didn’t trust Brutus with Eve. He was none too impressed at being shoved into his cat carrier like an ordinary cat, although he did cheer up somewhat when I informed him that we weren’t going to the vet. What I neglected to tell him was just how long it was going to take us to get to Tomintoul. All these witches around and not one of them had ever managed to make a broomstick fly. One day, perhaps.

In any case, so that I could maintain the fiction that I was a poor non-witch willing to work nonsensical hours for the minimum wage I took the train, ostensibly travelling on my own. It was a long trip up to the north of Scotland, with several changes. It was nice to just sit back and relax. With the cart coming by every hour or so selling all manner of junk food, not to mention tea so strong you could stand up a spoon in it, I decided there were far worse ways to pass my time. Until, that was, someone came along and sat beside me after we’d passed Crewe.

I’m not averse to people. While I’m aware that my apathetic tendencies can sometimes be mistaken for misanthropy, I’m really not that bad. I’d not be much of a taxi driver if I were. However, when I end up sitting next to a man who spreads out his legs almost as wide as they’ll possibly go, squeezing me against the window, before falling asleep with his head dropping uncomfortably onto my shoulder, I happen to get rather tetchy.

I twice attempted to shove him away from me but, despite my best efforts, he stubbornly remained put. Even worse, when I sharply nudged him the second time, he just started to snore. It wasn’t a delicate little wheeze either. No: this man sounded like a warthog on a mission to wake up the devil.

Brutus appeared equally disgruntled by his presence, edging out a sharp claw from inside his cage to swipe at the space-hogging fiend. He had as little effect on the man as I did which, given just how sharp my familiar’s claws were, was quite something. I shook my head. This simply wouldn’t do. I’d have knocked my lukewarm tea off the little tray table onto his lap if it didn’t seem like a terrible waste of a good drink.

What I really needed was something organic. I’d dabbled in herblore for a week or two after my magical binding was removed, not because I enjoyed that particular strain of magic but because Winter was rather fond of it. In the end, however, it became too irritating when I never had the herbs I required to hand and I soon abandoned my efforts.

I dug around in my jacket pockets on the off-chance that there were a few sprinkles of something still lingering around. Unfortunately they were empty apart from a twisted sweet wrapper. Then I caught sight of the crisps trodden into the floor under the seat in front of me. Not perfect but, if I got lucky, they’d be one of the more pungent flavours. I was hoping for cheese and onion. The discarded corner of an egg mayo sandwich or a few lost scampi fries would be better, but the train was just a bit too clean for that. I’d have to work with what I had.

I stretched out one toe, arching it past Brutus’s carrier and snagging a few of the crumbs. Bringing them closer to me, which was no mean feat given just how little space I had to work with, I began drawing out the rune I required.

It didn’t take long for the magic to do its job. I’d barely finished the rune when the most godawful reek began to rise. Rotten vegetables with an extraordinary odour of foul fish. It appeared whoever had been sitting here before me had gone one better than cheese-and-onion crisps – they’d been munching on prawn cocktail flavour. Not my snack of choice but it was perfect for this scenario.

The smell grew into a cloud of foul air. My annoying companion choked in mid-snore and opened his eyes. Yep. It was pretty disgusting. I turned my head in his direction and looked as embarrassed as I possibly could. ‘I’m so sorry,’ I said. ‘I have a dodgy tummy and simply the worst case of wind.’

The corners of his mouth turned down and he looked faintly nauseous.

‘Don’t worry,’ I assured him. ‘It’s contagious but it rarely lasts for more than a few hours. By mid afternoon I promise you won’t be able to smell a thing and the odds of you catching it from me aren’t too bad. Five to one at worst.’ I paused. ‘Well, maybe three to one.’

The man’s mouth tightened and he let out a guttural grunt. Then, without a word to me, he grabbed his bag, stood up and walked away to find another seat, preferably in an entirely different carriage.

Way to go, Ivy, I grinned to myself, although the smell I’d created was becoming quite overpowering and I could see a family down the other end of the carriage looking very disturbed. I hastily cancelled out the rune, sure that the nasty odour would disappear quickly. That’s when a familiar head popped up from one of the seats and fixed me with an icy blue glare.

‘Manspreading,’ I called out by way of explanation. ‘It’s a recognised phenomenon but there’s very little you can do to combat it. The easiest way is to get rid of the offender as quickly as possible. The less confrontation the better.’

Winter’s glare only grew. I guessed he was pissed off that I was talking to him directly instead of wholeheartedly throwing myself into our concocted story that we didn’t know each other.

I shrugged. If he really thought that this production company was so thorough that they’d bother tailing a nonentity like me, then he thought too highly of them. No one would go that kind of trouble. All the same, he really didn’t look very happy.

Deciding that this would be the perfect time to put my head down and take a nap, I leaned back into my seat and avoided looking at Winter again. But it was nice to know that he wasn’t far away.

 

***

 

Winter might have said that Tomintoul looked pretty but when we finally arrived, it was difficult to make out much of anything at all. It was dark, it was cold, and there weren’t any helpful chauffeurs with limousines to pick me up and take me to where I needed to go. I wasn’t even sure where I was supposed to go, if I were being honest.

The crowd of other passengers who’d disembarked appeared to disappear almost immediately whilst Winter strode off without so much as a glance in my direction. It occurred to me that he’d probably used his almost perfect memory to map out every street of the small town in his head. He’d have a nice little B&B set up and waiting for him. I had a heavy suitcase, Brutus and his cat carrier, and absolutely no clue.

With no one around to ask for help, I set off at a shuffle down what looked like a main street. At that time of night, there appeared to be nothing open. I passed a few tearooms, an art gallery and a pub that seemed to be dark and dead. Brutus growled in irritation.

‘I know, I know, but I can’t remember the name of the damn hotel,’ I muttered to him. My excitement at being part of the Enchantment team had long since dissipated.

I was just about to turn on my heel and head back to the station to demand to be returned to civilisation when a young guy in his twenties ambled out from a side street, pausing to light a cigarette as he went. Feeling hopeful, despite his somewhat unkempt appearance, I trotted up to him. ‘Hello!’

He lifted his head and looked at me, glancing up and down with an assessing eye. ‘Tourist or TV?’ he asked in a heavy Scottish brogue.

Excellent. ‘TV!’ I beamed. ‘I’m here for the Enchantment filming but I’m not sure where the rest of the crew are staying.’ I stuck out my hand. ‘Ivy.’

He shook it briefly but there was very little enthusiasm behind the effort. In fact I had the distinct impression that he wished I’d go away and leave him in peace. ‘Gareth.’ He raised a bushy eyebrow. ‘You important? Some TV bigwig or something?’

‘Of course! I’m vital to the entire production. Without me, they’d all be lost.’

He considered this. ‘But aren’t you the one who’s lost right now?’ he finally enquired.

Ha! Gareth was smarter than he looked. ‘You’ve got me. Between you and me, my driver didn’t show up to pick me up from the station.’ I leaned in closer and added with a dark edge, ‘Heads are going to roll.’

He watched me for a moment. ‘Interesting choice of words,’ he murmured.

I frowned. ‘Why?’

‘Because heads have already rolled. Literally.’

Hang on a minute. ‘Are you referring to…?’

‘The contestants. Or, more specifically, that bloke who managed to get himself killed here just last week. There’s not been a suspicious death here in decades then, within days of your company showing up, there are body parts strewn across the Highlands.’ He reached into his jacket pocket and withdrew a small flask before taking a swig and shuddering.

‘How do you know about it?’ I asked, treading carefully. Contrary to expectations, I had actually read the files and I knew that the circumstances of Benjamin Albert’s death were being kept quiet by both Enchantment and the police. This might be a small town where gossip spread like wildfire but Gareth still knew that the victim had been decapitated and dismembered – and I was certain that little titbit had been withheld from all but those closest to the investigation. I’d avoided thinking about it too much; it was simply far too gruesome.

Gareth let out a tiny snarl. I inadvertently took a step back. ‘They didn’t tell you about me? I found him, didn’t I? Out looking for a lost sheep and…’ His voice drifted off and his pupils dilated as he remembered what were no doubt the horrors of unexpectedly come across a brutalised body.

Suddenly his night-time wandering and hip-flask gulping were starting to make sense. I winced. ‘I’m sorry.’

He dropped the cigarette and ground it under his heel. ‘I gave up three years ago. I don’t even like nicotine.’ He bared his teeth and looked at me, his shoulders sagging slightly when he seemed to realise my sympathy for him was both heartfelt and honest. ‘Seeing something like that can make you question everything you think you know,’ he muttered.

I could well imagine. I pulled my shoulders back. Winter would probably be ecstatic that I’d already managed to make contact with a vital witness like Gareth. I had to tread very delicately, however. Judging by his state of mind, if I went in too hard or was too pushy I’d simply scare him off.

‘I know a little about what you’ve experienced,’ I said quietly, thinking of Adeptus Diall’s corpse which Winter and I had both seen. It still gave me the odd nightmare. ‘But nothing nearly as bad. If you ever want to talk about it, come and find me. Sometimes it can help to talk to a stranger and I don’t imagine there are many trauma counsellors up here.’

He blinked, as if surprised that I could care that much. I quashed my wave of sudden guilt. I was here to do a job, after all. I didn’t have to like it but if Winter and I were going to get to the bottom of the murders – and prevent any more from happening – I’d simply have to toughen up.

‘Thank you,’ Gareth said in a low voice. He pointed up the street. ‘All your colleagues are staying at the Hook and Eye. It’s about a mile down that way, just on the edge of town.’

A mile? Good grief. I choked back my response and murmured my thanks. ‘Come on, Brutus,’ I said with a sigh. ‘Let’s get a move on.’

Brutus didn’t answer, probably because he was fast asleep. It was alright for some, I huffed to myself. I waved to Gareth and shambled off. I really needed a bath and a bed. I might have only been sitting around on a train all day long but I still felt bone weary. At least I wasn’t like poor Gareth though, I mused, strengthening my resolve to do everything I could to find out just what in hell was going on here. Someone bloody did.

 

***

 

I was woken up by someone vigorously shaking my arm. For a strange, sleep-sodden moment, I thought it was Winter and I squeaked in dismay, attempting to shield myself from what could only be the icy onslaught of water about to be flung at my face. It took a moment or two for me to realise that my human alarm clock was speaking with a female voice. Somewhat belatedly I realised it had to be my room-mate, who’d already been crashed out by the time I’d arrived.

I peeked upwards cautiously, gazing up at the anxious face of a brunette. I swept my bleary gaze over her. Although she was wearing fairly casual clothes – jeans and a blouse – she looked remarkably smart. Her hair was carefully pulled back into a neat bun and the glasses that were perched on her nose were so shiny I could see my reflection in them.

‘Urrrgh,’ I said. It was supposed to be good morning but I knew that wasn’t what it sounded like, even to my own ears.

‘You need to get up,’ the woman urged, with wide, owl-like eyes. ‘The bus is leaving in ten minutes.’

I groaned. I had at least another seven minutes of snooze time then, I reckoned. My new roomie wasn’t giving in, however.

‘You’ve missed breakfast. I thought it would be better to let you sleep in. But Armstrong will fire you in a heartbeat if you keep everyone else waiting. The last runner got the boot just for forgetting to put milk in his coffee.’

I already knew that Armstrong was the new director of Enchantment and the man whose brainchild it was to shake up the usual format and include a survival element.

While I should have been concentrating on doing what I could to get up, given that he was the last person I wanted to annoy, it was the mention of coffee that really helped me out. I struggled up to a sitting position and looked around. There was indeed a small kettle in the corner. Maybe if I was quick…

‘I’m Amy,’ she said. She reached down and hefted my suitcase upwards, landing it on my knees with a painful thump. ‘Come on!’

‘Ivy,’ I murmured, giving her a half-hearted wave in greeting. ‘Can you put the kettle on, please?’

Amy threw me an anxious look. ‘There’s no time! I’ll see you down there. Remember, don’t be late!’ She all but sprinted out of the room, the door banging behind her as she left.

Well, she was energetic. I yawned and tried to pull myself together. ‘Brutus,’ I murmured. ‘Could you put the kettle on? I could really do with a coffee. The stronger the better.’

As far as I could tell, it was still pitch black outside. But then it wasn’t even 5am. I shuddered at the thought and unzipped the case, looking for something to wear.

‘Brutus?’

There was still no answer. I clipped on my bra, hooked a sweater over my head and glanced round. There didn’t seem to be any sign of him. I frowned. Contrary cat. Then the phone on the bedside rang, startling me so much I let out a strangled yelp.

‘Ivy,’ said Winter’s voice on the other end, ‘you need to get up now or this assignment is over before it’s even begun.’

I wrinkled my nose. Winter might make my toes curl up in delight every time I thought of him but did he have to sound quite so chipper this early?

‘How did you know I was still in bed?’ I asked suspiciously. ‘Are you watching me?’

‘I’m not anywhere near you. I’m staying somewhere else. I just know you, that’s all.’

I shook out a pair of jeans and wiggled into them at high speed. ‘Well,’ I tutted, ‘for your information, I’m wide-awake and raring to go. And I even made contact with an extra-special witness last night. I bet you didn’t manage that. His name is Gareth and…’

‘You can tell me later. Ivy, if you’re not on that bus in the next sixty seconds, then you’ll need to run.’ He hung up. Always with the running. I had the sinking sensation that I was going to very tired of that word very, very quickly.

I stood up, pulling the jeans up over my hips just as there was a loud toot from outside. The bus. Grimacing, I ran my hands through my hair, decided there was nothing else I could do about it and dashed out of the door.

The bus’s engine was already running and the seats were jam-packed with people. I received more than a few strange looks. When one of the more helpful passengers pointed down at my crotch, I realised it was because I’d not done up the zip. Grinning like an idiot, I pulled it up then squeezed into an empty seat.

Breathless, I smiled a quick hello at the woman next to me and checked the rest of my attire. My sweater was on inside out. Oops. Shrugging, I pulled it off, doing what I could not to elbow the woman in the process, turned it right the way around and pulled it back over my head. Nobody blinked an eye – but then this was the world of reality television. They were probably used to displays of nudity.

‘I slept in,’ I told my companion unnecessarily, once I’d righted myself.

‘So I see,’ she murmured. She glanced down at my ID, which I’d just managed to grab in time. Apparently clocking that I was no one of consequence, she turned away and looked out of the window instead. I’d have thought she was being rude if it weren’t for the fact that that no one on the bus was talking. It was almost as if we were monks on a vow of silence. Either that, or nobody here was a morning person. Suited me.

The bus trundled its way out of the town and down a single-track road. I shook out my hair and craned my neck round to look at the other passengers, wondering whether there was anyone I could recognise on board. It appeared that Belinda Battenapple, the host of Enchantment, and the other on-screen regulars, including the enigmatic Trevor Bellows, enjoyed other transportation. I hadn’t missed a single episode of Enchantment in my life and I would have blithely walked past any of these people on the bus without recognising them. That was probably a good thing.

Warning myself that acting star-struck probably wouldn’t be a good idea even if I did meet Belinda, I settled back into my seat and closed my eyes. I was just drifting back to sleep again when the bus came to a juddering halt.

‘Briefing in two!’ yelled an overly enthusiastic bloke towards the front. ‘Let’s get moving, people!’

I heaved myself up and followed everyone else off the bus, trying to appear as if I knew exactly what I was doing. It didn’t last long. The second I stepped outside and got a good look around the set, all my attempts at looking nonchalant fell by the wayside.

People were scurrying about everywhere, some carrying equipment, others clipboards. There had to be at least forty of them, and every single one was busy. From almost every angle, I could see the trademarked Enchantment signs emblazoned across lorries and cars and strung up between trees. I stood in the centre of it all, gawking like an idiot with my mouth hanging open.

‘The main quad!’ the man from the bus shouted. ‘Now!’

All at once, everyone seemed to stop what they were doing and head off. There were some grumbles; it appeared I wasn’t the only one who didn’t appreciate early rising. I kept hoping someone would tell me where I could find the industrial-strength coffee; instead we were ushered forward where an elaborate stage was already set up.

A harried-looking woman clambered up with the aid of a few of the others before grabbing hold of a bullhorn and facing all of us. ‘Good morning!’ she bellowed. ‘And welcome to the very first day of filming for Enchantment: Highlander edition!’

If she’d been expecting a raucous response, she was sorely mistaken. There was some ragged applause but no one appeared particularly thrilled by her words. Unlike me: I whooped loudly, ignoring the frowns I received from the people around me. There were a few eye-rolls as well but I smiled happily. This was brilliant. It took a lot to get me to smile before 11am but being on set for Enchantment was definitely enough.

Someone from the side of the stage called up to the woman. She nodded and yelled into the bullhorn again. ‘Now for our esteemed director and man of the hour, Morris Armstrong!’

This time, the applause was slightly more enthusiastic. For some reason, however, I still got the impression that it was because of what was expected rather than out of any real desire to cheer on the supposed captain of the most popular show on television.

I watched with interest as a large man leapt onto the stage. With his back to the crowd, he murmured something to the woman. From behind me, I heard someone else mutter, ‘Apparently he’s in a bad mood. He was down south completing some last-minute budget negotiations and couldn’t get first-class tickets for the train yesterday, so he had to join the rest of the cattle instead.’

There was a choked snigger. A bout of snaking dread assailed me. Uh-oh. Then, when Morris Armstrong turned round to face us, I bit my lip and raised my eyes to the heavens. Of course, the new director was the man who’d sat beside me on the train and who I’d managed to chase away with my supposed bad smell. Not only had I missed the perfect opportunity to find out more about what was going on, I’d made him think I was walking petri dish that should be avoided at all costs.

I slumped my shoulders in a bid to hide from his roving eyes. The chances were that I wouldn’t have to go near him; I was just a lowly runner and completely beneath his attention. The likelihood that he was involved in the murder was slim to none.

I dreaded to think would Winter would say if I was given the boot before I even managed to open my mouth – although his icy irritation on the train was now making more sense.

Armstrong didn’t bother with the bullhorn. ‘I know most of you have been here for a few weeks already completing pre-interviews with the talent and setting everything up. I also know that things have been more difficult than they should have been and that there have been … complications.’ Complications? Well, that was one way of describing a horrific murder, I thought. ‘The police are still investigating the matter and I urge you to give them your full cooperation.’

He nodded over to a small contingent at the side who, now I looked at them more closely, did appear more grimly official than any of the film crew. ‘However,’ Armstrong continued to shout, ‘nothing will stop Enchantment. We are the best television series on this planet! We have millions of viewers! We are going to go from success to success and nothing is going to stop us.’

There should have been someone in the back with a drum kit. At the very least he deserved a cymbal crash to add to his dramatic flair.

‘You all know what to do and what needs to be done. At precisely midday the talent will arrive and the cameras will start rolling. We are making history, people! Don’t you forget it!’ With that, Armstrong punched the air and left the stage.

Mrs Bullhorn returned to her spot, clapping the director ostentatiously as he walked away. ‘Wonderful, just wonderful! We’re so lucky to have such a hands-on director. All runners need to report directly to Armstrong’s trailer now as he wants to brief you all in person. The rest of you get back to work!’

Arse.