Chapter Twelve

 

I walked away from the house with a lead-filled soul. I knew speaking to Clare’s parents was going to be hard but it had been much worse than I’d anticipated. Taxi driving was a far simpler proposition than all this, even if it meant I had to have the same conversation about the weather twenty times a day.

I trudged away, turning everything over in my mind. The sensible thing to do would be to tell the Ipsissimus, the Order and the police and wash my hands of the entire affair. I’d already done what was required of me.

I’d barely turned the corner when my mobile phone rang. Half expecting it to be Winter, I pulled it out of my pocket. When I realised the number calling me was my home phone, I felt my pulse rate increase.

‘Eve?’ I asked. ‘What’s wrong? Is it Brutus? Is everything alright?’

There was no immediate answer. Frowning, I tilted my head and listened harder. Was that heavy breathing? Trepidation building, I tried again. ‘Hello? Eve?’

‘Fooooooooooooood.’

I frowned. ‘Brutus?’

‘Fooooooooooooood.’

Since when had he learned to use a damn phone? ‘Brutus,’ I said slowly. ‘Where is Eve?’ A horrible thought struck me. ‘You’ve not … done anything to her, have you?’

‘Bitch.’ Whether he was referring to me or to Eve wasn’t clear. It was probably to both of us for not pandering to his every need. There was a long drawn-out pause. ‘Where?’

I was glad no one else was around to realise that I was conducting a phone conversation with my cat. I’d been talking to Brutus for years but even I felt ridiculous doing this. ‘I’m in a place called Weymouth, tracking down a serial killer. This is serious stuff, Brutus. I think we’ll be back later today but I can’t promise anything. This is a fast-moving investigation and I am an integral cog in it.’ I hesitated. ‘But I really don’t want to be. I want to be back at home. And not just because I’d quite like to lie on my sofa with you and a family-sized bar of chocolate. I’m not cut out for this, not because it’s work but because it’s too emotional. I’m not sure I can cope. But a serial killer is out there and other witches might be in danger.’

‘Home,’ Brutus said with more than a hint of imperious command. It was more like a smack-you-in-the-face-before-bringing-you-to-your-knees imperious command.

‘Believe me, that’s what I’m planning to do.’

There was a strange clunking sound in the background then I heard Eve’s muffled voice. ‘Brutus? Princess? What is that smell?’

My eyes narrowed. What smell?

‘Miaow,’ Brutus said. Then he hung up.

I ground my teeth. Why, that little… I hissed under my breath. Every moment he got, he complained. Goodness only knew how he was treating Eve or what the smell was that she was referring to. If he thought he was getting his Friday tuna treat now, he was sadly mistaken. Although at least now I was thinking about something other than Clare Rees and her family. I had a sneaking suspicion that Brutus had somehow known how I was feeling and had called me to take my mind off things, but that was crazy. Then the phone rang again and, without looking at the screen, I answered.

‘Brutus, how on earth can you get your paws to dial the number?’ I asked. ‘And what is that smell Eve was talking about? Have you been peeing in the corner?’

‘Certainly not,’ Winter said. ‘I used the toilet and I even put the lid down afterwards.’ He paused for a moment. ‘Has Brutus been phoning you?’ he enquired. ‘That cat is bloody amazing.’

That cat is bloody annoying; I think that’s why I love him. I shook my head in exasperation and changed the subject. ‘I think that Blackbeard sent Clare’s parents a postcard and pretended it was from her. He was desperate that no one knew she’d disappeared.’

Winter’s answer was grim. ‘Unfortunately that’s what we’re discovering as well. The police have agreed to the embargo, not least because steps have been taken to conceal the disappearance of the other coven members too. And all their houses are booby-trapped in exactly the same manner as Clare’s. Blackbeard means serious business.’

I grimaced. ‘There’s more.’ I told him about Tarquin visiting the Rees’ family.

Winter drew in a breath. ‘How does that boy manage to sneak his way into everything? And why?’

‘He has a particularly annoying and peculiar skill set,’ I agreed. ‘We need to talk to him.’

‘Agreed. We should also see if we can get hold of your friend Iqbal. He has proved himself incredibly helpful in the past when it comes to research. The way that Blackbeard is managing to avoid magic concerns me. If anyone knows how he’s capable of that, it’ll be Iqbal.’

‘It sounds like we need to skedaddle back to Oxford.’

Winter agreed. ‘The police and Arcane Branch have everything under control here. It’ll take some time to defuse all the traps because they’re trying to do it quietly so that Blackbeard isn’t alerted.’

I ran a hand through my hair. ‘He’s not just one step ahead of us, Rafe,’ I said quietly. ‘He’s several miles in front. And we both know that I’m no runner.’

‘It’s not just you on his tail, Ivy, or me. Between the Order, the coven’s families and the police, we’ll catch this bastard before the week is out.’

Winter was trying to sound confident but I knew him too well. Both of us were feeling the strain – and the doubt. Maybe Blackbeard was just too good. And if his only clear motive was to kill witches, where could we go from here? There were thousands of witches across the country and Blackbeard could be targeting any of them. Talking to the dead was all well and good, but so far the ghosts had only proved helpful in offering glimpses into the past. We were all going to have to step up our game.

***

We made it back home in record time. It was a measure of how seriously Winter was taking things that he didn’t comment after I magically encouraged several cars to come to mysterious halts so we could overtake them and get back that little bit quicker. Using magic against vehicles could play havoc with their engines but none of them exploded, so I decided my spells were a resounding success.

Winter wasn’t the only one being encouraging. More than one ghost waved enthusiastically as we zipped past. I suppose I should have been cheered by all this support from the dead but I wished they’d leave me in peace.

Winter bounded up the stairs to Tarquin’s flat while I waited for the lift, explaining that I should probably make sure that Brutus wasn’t gnawing on Eve’s cooling corpse. When I stepped out onto my floor, however, I could already hear Winter’s barrage of questions from the floor above.

‘What were you doing in Weymouth? How did you know the Rees family? Did you speak to Clare? Have you been annoying Ivy again? If you do anything to set back her recovery even slightly, I will serve your head up to my cat on a platter.’

I smiled at the last part. Given the anger rippling through Winter’s voice, not to mention Tarquin’s propensity for being the most irritating witch this side of the yellow brick road, I decided I should join them and make sure no blood was spilled.

Tarquin, bizarrely, was bare-chested except for a heavily embroidered waistcoat. He was smiling at Winter in a way designed to encourage violence. Before he met me, Raphael Winter always managed to present himself as a slightly standoffish and occasionally offensive witch – and one with absolute control over his emotions. I wasn’t the same person I had been back then and neither was he. Usually that was a good thing – but not always.

Rather than answering any of the questions, Tarquin’s gaze switched to me as I came up the stairs. He loped towards me and stretched out his arms, trying to draw me into a tight embrace. What he didn’t yet know was that I could perform magic safely again. I flicked out a surreptitious rune that I doubted even Winter would notice.

Tarquin drew in a sharp breath and stepped back, dropping his arms; otherwise he didn’t react. ‘What’s the problem?’ he asked. There was a faint squeak in his voice.

‘You were in Dorset recently,’ Winter said, folding his arms. ‘Weymouth, to be exact.’

Tarquin suddenly looked bored. ‘I’ve been in a lot of places recently. The folks in Human Resources can’t seem to let go of the fact that I’m now in Arcane Branch and they keep demanding my time.’ He shrugged and examined his fingernails. ‘I can’t help it if every other witch in HR is incompetent and they need me to do their work for them.’

More like Arcane Branch had quickly realised Tarquin was incompetent and were trying to palm him back on his original bosses. Rather than say that, I focused on what was important. Go me – I could be the bigger witch after all. ‘What work are you doing exactly?’

‘Pre-entrance interviews for mature non-Order witches who wish to gain entrance to our esteemed establishment,’ he said. He looked at me archly. ‘If you want to join the Order, Ivy, I promise to treat you fairly and in the same manner as the others. I won’t automatically turn you down just because I know how to make you scream in the sack.’ Beside me, Winter stiffened. I nudged him with my elbow. I was by his side, not Tarquin’s.

My floppy-haired foe continued. ‘And I won’t automatically add you to our ranks either. We are a merit-based organisation, as I’m sure you know. If you can prove yourself to me, I’ll consider your application.’

From anyone else it would have sounded as if they were taking the piss, but Tarquin managed to sound sincere. It took everything I had for me not to burst into giggles. Insults would slide off his glossy exterior; laughing at him meant he’d refuse to talk to me for a month. Normally that would be a good thing but, with Winter no longer in the Order, we needed Tarquin on our side if we were going to find out the information we wanted.

Winter, speaking through gritted teeth, stared at him. ‘You make the decision whether new witches are allowed into the Order?’

‘New old witches,’ Tarquin said. ‘And yes, that responsibility is mine. It is a heavy burden, I admit, but someone has to step up to the proverbial plate and take charge.’

I tilted my head. ‘Let me guess,’ I said drily. ‘You talk to the applicants and make notes, which are then passed to someone else. Someone who makes the final decision.’

Tarquin frowned and held up his index finger. ‘First of all, I don’t talk to the applicants themselves. My task is far more important than that. I talk to their families, that way one can get to the heart of the matter whether they have enough talent to join the Hallowed Order of Magical Enlightenment.’

I pressed my lips together. Don’t smirk. Don’t smirk. Don’t smirk.

‘Secondly,’ he said, ‘the notes I pass on are taken very seriously. I have been told that, if it were not for my recommendations, Human Resources would not have the faintest idea whether to allow entrance or not.’

Tarquin had never really understood sarcasm. I nodded as if to agree with him; I could keep a straight face if the situation demanded it. ‘So you visited the Rees family in Weymouth in Dorset to find out about Clare and whether she had the ability to become an Order witch?’

‘Yep. Her and the other members of her coven. Seven of them. It took bloody ages but,’ he said with a sidelong look at Winter, ‘when it comes to the Order, there’s nothing I’m not prepared to do. I am now, and will for ever be, fully motivated and dedicated to the Order’s cause. Only the worthiest and most hard-working witches are like that.’

‘Indeed,’ Winter murmured. ‘And only the worthiest and most hard-working witches avoid pointless self-aggrandisement.’

Tarquin frowned. ‘Self what?’

I interrupted hastily. ‘Never mind. So if I have this right,’ I said, ‘Clare Rees and the rest of her coven applied to become Order witches and it was your job to vet them.’

‘Yes.’

‘And,’ I pressed, ‘if your recommendation is positive, what happens next? What’s the next step?’

‘They enter the Order, of course.’

Winter’s lip curled. ‘Just like that?’

‘Yes.’

‘The applicants aren’t interviewed or tested or anything?’

‘Oh. Sure, yeah, that happens.’

I could hear Winter’s teeth grinding from a foot away. He obviously never worked anywhere near HR when he was in the Order. ‘Go on. Explain how that works.’

Tarquin looked confused. ‘I don’t know. That’s not my remit.’

‘You have no interest in or curiosity about the rest of the process?’ Winter’s voice dripped with disdain.

Tarquin leaned over. ‘Not. My. Job.’

I put a hand on Winter’s arm. Just because he wanted to know everything about the Order Departments he’d been in didn’t mean everyone was like that.

‘Anyway,’ Tarquin continued, ‘I should get on. I’m a very busy and important person these days. It’s lucky you caught me, to be honest. I don’t always have time for conversations with civilians.’ As he glanced at Winter, his implication was clear. Where Tarquin once did everything he could to bow and scrape and get into Winter’s good books, now that Winter wasn’t in the Order Tarquin couldn’t care less what he thought.

Because I could, I repeated my earlier rune and this time I put a little more effort into it. Tarquin’s eyes widened and his hands dropped, scrabbling at his trousers. His cheeks began to turn red. ‘I have to go,’ he said in a high-pitched rush. He spun round and headed back into his flat as if hell itself were after him.

As soon as Tarquin’s door closed, Winter turned to me. ‘What exactly did you do to him?’

I shrugged. ‘Nothing.’

‘Ivy.’

I grinned. ‘Okay, I may have performed a small spell which I developed for some of the more gropey taxi customers.’

Winter’s eyes darkened at the idea that I’d been forced to drive around men whose octopus arms and pinching fingers had caused me grief. ‘What’s the spell?’ he asked, his jaw tight.

My smile grew. ‘Let’s just say that it can make you feel rather uncomfortable in the groin area.’ Winter frowned so I elaborated. ‘It constricts your underwear until…’

He held up his hands and winced. ‘I get the picture.’ He glanced at me. ‘Don’t ever do that to me.’

‘I won’t. But I’ve developed other spells that are less uncomfortable and more – pleasurable. I’ve never really had cause to practise them on anyone. Perhaps you would be willing to be a guinea pig?’

A deep growl emanated from Winter’s chest and he reached for my hand, squeezing my fingers. ‘That sounds like the sort of test I would enjoy.’

I snorted. ‘You’re Raphael Winter. Is there any kind of test you don’t enjoy?’

He considered. ‘My sister used to make me take tests to find out what kind of fairy-tale prince I was most like, or how many children and wives I would end up with. I didn’t enjoy those very much.’

Tarquin’s door re-opened and he stuck his head out. ‘I’m Prince Charming,’ he yelled. ‘You can’t have that one.’ The door closed again.

Winter and I exchanged looks. ‘I beg to differ,’ I whispered.

He smiled. Unfortunately, the moment had passed and both of us knew it. ‘Let’s try out those spells some other time,’ he said.

‘It’s a date.’ I sighed. A future date, when we didn’t have serial killers to worry about. ‘Just what the hell is going on? Clare was adamant that she didn’t want anything to do with the Order and neither did her coven. If the others had put in an application to join up, she would have mentioned it. She made a point of saying that her magic wasn’t strong enough and that she hated the Order. This has got to be Blackbeard’s doing. But to what end? What is he really up to? Is he…’ My voice trailed off.

‘Trying to find a way to sneak into the Order himself?’ Winter finished for me. ‘It does sound like it, doesn’t it?’

‘We know he hates witches,’ I said softly. ‘If that’s what he’s trying to do, it’s not because he wants to make new friends.’

We shared a look of mutual dismay. ‘No,’ Winter agreed. ‘It’s definitely not.’