Chapter Eight

 

Winter came up behind me and wrapped his arms round my waist. I inhaled deeply, enjoying both the feel of his body against mine and his musky, male scent. Outside, the flakes of snow continued to swirl downwards.

‘Maybe,’ I said, ‘the snow is a good thing. There will be so much of it that it will extinguish any lava that comes spouting out of Oxford’s brand-spanking-new volcano which is going to appear under our feet any second now.’

Winter chuckled softly. ‘You don’t really believe that’s going to happen, do you? The volcano, I mean. The Angel could have been stolen months ago and yet there have been no ill effects whatsoever. Besides, chances are it’s only been misplaced. It’ll turn up in March in some forgotten corner. You really shouldn’t worry about it.’

I was silent for a moment. It didn’t bother me that Winter wasn’t superstitious but surely he knew that curses couldn’t be dismissed out of hand. ‘Maybe it will just turn up,’ I said. ‘But maybe it won’t. You know how many ghosts are in the queue to pass on because they’ve been cursed and are trapped here. There’s power in curses.  Extraordinary power. We’ve searched and searched and the Angel is nowhere to be found. It might have been one of your witchy geek enemies who took it. It might have been someone who didn’t know any better. It might just have been lost by sheer accident. But whatever’s happened to it, we can’t pretend that its absence isn’t dangerous. I’ve already sent Abigail and the rest of the Neophytes home just in case – but what happens next is anyone’s guess.’

He pressed his lips to my neck. ‘Whatever comes to pass,’ he murmured, ‘I’m sure we can work it out. We always do. Between us, we’ll find a way.’

I loved his optimism. I just hoped it wasn’t misplaced.

Winter’s hand reached under my jumper, gently caressing my skin. ‘The snow might be good for other reasons,’ he purred. ‘We’ll get snowed in. We’ll be forced to stay here together with only our body heat to keep each other warm. We’ll be trapped here for days.’ His hand moved further up, his fingers grazing against my ribcage. ‘Just the two of us. No witches, no Order, no Angels, no curses…’

Princess Parma Periwinkle strolled in and deposited herself in front of the open fireplace before performing some extraordinary contortion so that she could reach her bottom with her tongue.

‘Sure. Just me, you and two grumpy cats,’ I said with a grin.

‘They like each other really.’ He paused. ‘Where is Brutus anyway?’

‘Last I saw, he almost brought down the Christmas tree on top of our heads. And there’s an entire salmon missing from the cafeteria, which is probably down to him. I wouldn’t put it past him.’

Winter snorted. ‘I thought he’d have ventured back home by now. I wouldn’t have imagined snow would be his thing.’

I snuggled further back against him. ‘It’s not. Last winter he positioned himself by the radiator and didn’t move for three months – and there wasn’t even any snow. Just some frost.’

‘He didn’t move from the radiator? Not even for fooooood?’ Winter teased.

I smiled. Then my insides froze with a nausea-inducing epiphany and I yanked myself away, throwing my hands up. ‘Goddammit!’

He blinked at me. ‘What is it?’

‘Brutus,’ I snarled. ‘Brutus took the Angel.’

‘Huh?’

‘I just said it – he hates the cold. Plus, he was hanging around the tree when Abigail and the others were putting up the decorations. He had ample opportunity. The locator spells used to search for the apparent thief wouldn’t have picked him up because he’s not human. And I definitely saw him scampering off with another decoration in his mouth.’ I stomped over and grabbed my coat, shrugging it onto my tense body.

Winter watched me. ‘That’s just circumstantial. I can’t see why Brutus would steal a silver angel.’

‘Why does Brutus do anything?’ I grimaced. ‘There was a clump of something icky in the bottom of the box the Angel was kept in.’

‘I thought no one could work out what it was.’

‘We couldn’t.’ I cursed. ‘But I bet it was a damned pile of dried cat sick.’ I stalked over to the door, narrowly avoiding treading on Princess Parma Periwinkle’s tail. Everything was falling into place, apart from the motive.

‘Do you know where he is?’ I demanded, glaring down at Winter’s familiar.

As if in answer she made a run for it, abandoning the fire’s heat in favour of skidding under the sofa. So be it. I flung open the door and stomped out.

‘You’re still wearing your slippers!’ Winter called out before catching me up.

‘I don’t care. I’m on a mission. I’m going to strangle that dratted cat.’

‘How are you even going to find him?’

‘I will find him if it takes me all night. He’s taken the Angel, I know he has. Clearly, he’s been playing the long game and has been planning to bring down the Order from the beginning. He’s hated me all along. He has a better vocabulary than I do but he’ll barely use five words when he speaks to me. The only reason he’s probably not shown his true colours until now is because he was waiting until he could bring down all witches, not just me. How do I know my cat is plotting to kill me? His damn name is Brutus and he’ll stab me in the back the second I’m not looking.’

I heaved in a ragged breath and picked up speed, scanning the ground for paw prints or any sign of Brutus in the snow.

‘I’m sure there’s a perfectly reasonable explanation…’

Winter’s words barely registered. ‘How do you fancy roast cat for Christmas dinner this year instead of turkey?’

‘Ivy…’

Just then I caught something flashing past from the corner of my eye. ‘There!’ I spun round, my slippers sliding on a patch of ice as I did so. I almost went flying onto my arse with my legs and arms akimbo but Winter caught me just in time. I grunted out a thank you before heading after what I was sure was Brutus.

I ducked under a snow-laden bush and squeezed along a tiny path between two of the Order buildings. Not only was my own familiar responsible for all this crap but he was making me act like some kind of chubby Indiana Jones. Muttering and huffing, while I was sure Winter was trying not to chuckle behind me, I pressed on. There was a definitely a trail of paw prints to follow.

I squeezed out of the narrow gap at the end of the alley, my eyes scanning the trail. The feline prints led to a small lean-to shed, barely noticeable against the clump of trees which hugged the wall of what I belatedly realised was where the small Department of Familiars was housed. Brutus was clearly trying to be ironic.

Exhaling a cloud of angry breath, I had only taken three steps forward when the blasted cat himself appeared, snaking out from under a gap in the little shed’s wooden door. He turned his implacable yellow gaze in my direction and sat down, giving his ears a wash.

‘You freaking feline!’ I yelled. ‘You’re the one who took the damned Angel. Right? You bastard!’

Brutus didn’t even blink. He did, however, stop licking himself, his tail flicking in irritation from side to side. ‘Mind your language. There are children present.’

‘Don’t patronise Winter, you sodding cat burglar!’

Brutus sighed dramatically, his eyes flicking past me to where Winter was standing.

Winter frowned. ‘Hmm.’ He walked past me, past Brutus and towards the shed, then fiddled with the lock until the door opened. I watched while he put his hands in pockets and stared inside with a frown.

‘Well?’ I demanded. ‘Is the Angel of the Order there?’

For a moment, Winter didn’t answer. When he finally spoke, his voice was oddly strained. ‘I think you should come and see for yourself.’

I glanced back at Brutus. He’d stopped waving his tail and was holding himself strangely erect. Warily, I stepped past him and peered past Winter’s shoulder into the gloom of the shed.

High on a shelf the little silver statue of the Angel gleamed down at us, a peaceful benevolent expression on her frozen face. The snowflake ornament I’d seen Brutus steal was propped up next to her. ‘I knew it,’ I spat. I looked down at the floor. ‘And there’s the remnants of the cafeteria’s posh salmon.’

‘Mmm.’

‘And look. That’s my scarf. He even took my damned scarf.’ At that moment the scarf moved. I blinked, my eyes adjusting to the dim light. In that moment I forgot all about the Angel. ‘Is that…?’

‘Meow.’ Two green eyes opened and gazed lazily up at me. I didn’t recognise their owner but she had the sort of sleek fur and intelligent expression that I knew Brutus went for.

Winter knelt down and gently pulled away the rest of the scarf. There, hiding underneath, were five kittens. They were all curled up asleep against their mother’s belly. They were absolutely tiny.

Something brushed against my leg. I looked down to see Brutus gazing up at me, a flicker of something akin to anxiety in his familiar yellow eyes.

‘They’re yours?’ I asked.

His whiskers quivered. ‘They are.’

‘You took the salmon to feed your…’ Girlfriend? Wife? Baby mama?

‘I did.’

‘And you took my scarf to keep them comfortable.’

‘It’s warm. It smells of you.’

Something pricked at the back of my eyes. Goodness. It must have been the cold weather getting to me.

‘And the Angel?’

‘It’s a symbol of protection.’ Brutus spoke gruffly.

‘So it is.’ I knelt down next to Winter and gazed at the litter. ‘Five kittens,’ I breathed. ‘Wow.’

He put his arm round me. ‘Merry Christmas.’

‘Are we keeping them?’

A low growl emitted from Brutus and Winter pressed his lips together as if to stop himself from laughing. ‘I suppose we are.’

I tried and failed to imagine what it would be like having five mini-me Brutuses scampering around the house. Sure, they were tiny now but they’d grow. Their eyes would open up. They’d follow me around, snuggle up to Winter and me in the evening, play with balls of string and generally be as cute as could be.

‘Merry Christmas indeed,’ I murmured back.

Just then one of the kittens stirred, wiggling around. It opened its mouth, obviously seeking its mother’s milk. ‘Food,’ it squeaked.

The ginger kitten next to it woke up. ‘Food!’

A heartbeat later all five of them were at it. ‘Food! Food! Food! Food! Fooooooooooood!’

Brutus bared his teeth in what I assumed was a proud father’s beam and Winter and I exchanged glances. ‘We’re not going to get any peace ever again,’ I whispered in horror.

He planted a big kiss onto my lips. ‘Maybe not,’ he grinned. ‘But there’ll be more than enough goodwill for all of us.’

Brutus began to purr. ‘Happy Holidays.’

There was a pause before he added with a hopeful wink, ‘Fooood?’

 

Thank you so much for reading Sparkle Witch! I hope you enjoyed all of Ivy’s lazy adventures. Happy Holidays to you and yours x

 

Turn over the page for details about my new upcoming novel, Wraith.

 

Helen