by Helen Harper
Clearly not in the mood for niceties, Winter snapped, ‘Is Villeneuve correct?’ he demanded. ‘Have we been banned from going to Uffington and confronting Blackbeard?’
‘I believe,’ the Ipsissimus returned calmly, ‘that right now you’re in a jail cell and banned from going anywhere.’
‘You know what I mean.’
‘The operation to bring in Hal Prescott is a joint one between the police and the Order. As you and Ms Wilde are neither, I can no longer involve you. You’ve caused me considerable problems by getting yourselves locked up.’
‘We found Blackbeard,’ I said, jumping in before Winter could say something he’d really regret.
‘You did. And, believe me, Ms Wilde, your actions have not gone unnoted. But you both assaulted a group of police officers. You broke into a flat and destroyed property that may be key to this investigation. If it were down to me, I would maintain your involvement but my hands are tied.’ He paused. ‘And there’s really no need to worry. Hal Prescott will be safely in custody before long. The hotel he’s in is surrounded and we’re being very cautious because we know he uses booby-trapped explosives. He will not be hurting anyone else.’
I looked at Winter. It was galling to be left out of the loop when we’d invested so much, but we were hurting. He could barely open his right eye. My head hurt and I hadn’t gone this long without a decent night’s sleep since I had colic at the tender age of one. Maybe this was a good thing.
‘Are you doing this to make a point?’ Winter ground out. ‘That I should return to the Order then I won’t be kept out of investigations?’
‘You should return to the Order,’ the Ipsissimus said frankly. ‘But I am not so scheming, Raphael. You know me better than that.’
Winter’s eyes flashed to mine. ‘I thought I did,’ he said, with more than a hint of darkness. I reached out and squeezed his arm. He still seemed determined to take my almost-death more personally than I did. ‘I’m no longer so sure.’
‘I’m not omnipotent. The lengths you have gone to in order to get what we needed went beyond what I can manage. I’ve had to pull in just about every favour I could to get the pair of you released. There’s nothing more I can do. For what it’s worth, the Hallowed Order of Magical Enlightenment will forever be indebted to you. And, from the bottom of my own heart, I thank you.’
‘Let it go, Rafe,’ I said quietly. ‘They have it in hand. They’ll bring Blackbeard in. By the time we get home and get cleaned up, it’ll be morning.’ I sighed. ‘We’re meeting your parents for Sunday dinner.’ I was only reminding him of that for his sake, not mine.
Winter ran a hand over his face. ‘Okay,’ he said. ‘Okay.’ He hesitated. ‘Tell them to be careful though. Blackbeard – Hal Prescott – is smart. Don’t underestimate what he’s capable of.’
‘I’m still in Oxford but I’ll be sure to pass that along,” the Ipsissimus said. ‘Go and get some rest. You both deserve it.’
Amen to that.
Chapter Eighteen
I’m not the most lithe person in the universe but I don’t usually walk like a robot from an old seventies sci-fi television show either. Now, every part of me ached. I wasn’t sure my legs would ever bend at the knee properly again. I had bruises in places I’d never known existed. There was a particularly colourful one tracing its way across my collarbone and up my neck, wrapping around my skin like some kind of designer scarf.
Standing next to Winter, however, I looked the picture of health. He was doing his best not to show his pain but, given the black eye and the bandages covering the worst of his cuts, that was a pointless effort. I’d taken painkillers to get rid of the worse of the throbbing pain in my skull after Winter had used his magic to assure me that my slight concussion was nothing to worry about, but they made me woozy and thick-tongued. About the only positive was that I’d had a long, hot shower so at least I no longer smelled of vomit. I was now wearing my only smart dress – a green frilly concoction that I suspected made me look like the Incredible Hulk even when I wasn’t covered in bruises – while Winter had on an immaculate black suit. The pair of us looked ridiculous.
‘We don’t have do this,’ Winter said. ‘My family aren’t monsters. They’ll understand if we cancel.’
I grabbed Winter’s hand to stop myself from running back home with a scream of delight. This was going to happen sooner or later; if I did it now, looking like I’d been in a fight with Godzilla and sounding as if I’d downed a bottle of vodka, perhaps I wouldn’t be invited back. One could always hope. And I had my secret weapon. I raised a pointed eyebrow at Brutus, for once trotting by my side as if he were the most perfectly behaved cat in the world.
‘It’ll be fine,’ I said, sounding far more confident that I was. ‘I can’t wait to meet your parents.’
‘Liar.’
Yeah, okay. I offered him a lopsided smile and shrugged one shoulder – it hurt too much to raise both.
Winter bent his head and, ever so gently, kissed my cheek. I still felt a thrill of delight zip through me at the touch of his lips. ‘Thank you, Ivy. I do appreciate this.’ He smiled. ‘Wait here and I’ll check they’re ready for us. My mother hates being surprised.’
She was going to love his bruised face then. I glanced at Brutus. ‘Now remember,’ I whispered. ‘You don’t do anything until I give you the signal. I might even not give you the signal at all. This might all be lovely and wonderful and flowery and sweet. But just in case, you stay on your claws.’
Brutus blinked up at me with overly innocent eyes.
‘You do remember what the signal is, right?’ I tugged on my right earlobe. ‘When I do that, you spring into action. Got that?’
‘Food.’
I counted to five in my head. ‘Do this for me, Bruty baby, and you can have all the food you want. I promise. I’ll even make the trip to that shop on the other side of town to get those fishy treats you like so much.’
Brutus didn’t say anything else but he gave a loud purr. That was the best answer I was going to get.
Winter popped his head out of the door. ‘We’re all good,’ he said. He held out his arm. ‘You’ll love my family, Ivy.’
I took his arm. Mmm. I had my doubts. If I made it out of here without any more bruises, I’d count that as a win. I shook out my hair, drew in a deep breath and walked into Winter’s ancestral home with my head held high. It couldn’t be that bad.
The first thing I noticed upon crossing the threshold was the smell: old-fashioned beeswax mixed with the aroma of home-baked bread. I swallowed. The kind of person who kneaded their own dough was not the kind of person I normally had much in common with. Didn’t Winter’s parents know that supermarkets sold bread in handy sliced loaves?
The floor – a heavy cream carpet that my feet immediately sank into – was spotless. Winter gestured at my shoes and started taking off his own. Cool. It might ostensibly be to avoid tracking in dirt but the action made me feel more relaxed. Perhaps I should have come in my pyjamas.
There was a great deal of shiny mahogany, from the ornate banister framing the staircase to my right to an old-fashioned bureau and various side tables on my left. Yes, there was a lot of furniture but this was a big house; there was no sense of stark bleakness as there had been in Blackbeard’s place, but this place didn’t seem cluttered either. I thought of my own wobbly pieces, most of which had been flatpack and inevitably had several screws missing, and grinned to myself.
A couple appeared. It didn’t take a genius to know who they were. The man possessed the same stiff spine that I’d often observed in Winter, coupled with a moustache which had been waxed to within an inch of its life. Although he was retired, his smartly pressed jacket still bore the medals that he must have won during his military career. The woman had the same brilliant blue eyes as Winter, together with a remarkably unlined face. Either she’d been dedicated enough to use cold cream every day since she was about three years old, or I could look forward to Winter’s skin
remaining soft and fresh whilst I gradually got more and more wrinkled. Then I blinked as I realised what I’d been thinking. I completely certain we were going to grow old together. Well, well, well.
Winter’s mother held out her arms. ‘You must be Ivy. I’m so thrilled to finally meet you. I’m Sophia. This is George.’ She drew me into a tight hug which, I had to admit, was not what I’d expected. ‘Raphael has told us so much about you.’
My stomach dropped. Which parts exactly? Had he told them that I was often too lazy to walk to the end of the road to buy milk, so I had an arrangement with one of the kids who lived in a nearby flat? Had he mentioned that sometimes I turned my underwear inside out so I could wear it for another day without washing it? Maybe, I thought worriedly, he’d told them about the time I’d watched five episodes of Antiques Roadshow in a row because I didn’t know where the remote control was and I couldn’t be bothered to look for it.
I forced a smile. ‘All good, I hope!’
She smiled back and said nothing. Uh oh.
George, Winter’s father, obviously wasn’t the hugging type. I supposed I should be grateful he didn’t salute; instead, he offered me his hand and, when I took it, squeezed mine until I was certain it was about to drop off. ‘So,’ he said, ‘you’re a witch.’
Retrieving my poor fingers from his grip, I managed a nod. ‘Yes.’
‘But you’re not in the Order.’
‘No.’
He regarded me with sharp eyes. ‘You couldn’t handle the discipline?’
‘Father!’ Winter said, his brow creasing.
‘Something like that,’ I murmured.
By my feet, Brutus let out a small miaow. George glared icily down at him. ‘That is not Princess Parma Periwinkle.’
‘No,’ Winter said easily. ‘She’s off running an errand for me. She can sneak into hard-to-reach areas so I’ve sent her off to get some milk thistle. There’s a particular strain I’m after which I think will work wonderfully in a new spell I’m developing.’
‘This creature is not running an errand for you?’ George asked me.
I tried to imagine what Brutus’s response would be if I asked him to hunt for a particular herb in some godforsaken corner of the country. He’d probably return with a pile of stinging nettles and leave them in my bed so he could piss himself laughing when I tried to go to sleep. ‘Uh no. I don’t tend to use herblore much. I’m more of a rune girl.’
Winter’s father looked distinctly underwhelmed.
Sophia cleared her throat. ‘Let’s all go and sit down, shall we? Ivy, would you like a cup of tea? Dinner won’t be for another couple of hours yet.’
The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them. ‘I would bloody love a cup,’ I said. Then, rather belatedly, I winced. ‘I mean, that would be lovely. Thank you.’
She quirked an eyebrow in a mannerism I instantly recognised. Unfortunately I couldn’t tell whether she was amused or horrified because she was a lot harder to read than her son. And a whole lot scarier too. I think it was because she kept smiling at me.
We were led into what I think was a drawing room. I’d never been in a drawing room before but, now that I was standing in one, I had no doubt that is what it was. Carefully taking a seat in a high-backed chair that was considerably older than all of us in this room, I felt incredibly uncomfortable – but I still couldn’t prevent myself from letting out a groan at taking the weight off my feet.
‘Make yourself at home,’ George said, flicking his hand in the air.
Thank goodness. I slumped back and began to raise my legs to tuck them underneath me. When I saw the expression on his face, I changed my mind. That hadn’t been a literal ‘make yourself at home’; I couldn’t get cold pizza out of the fridge and demand to know where the television was.
I tried to ignore the fact that Winter’s shoulders were shaking with silent laughter and looked round for Brutus. When I saw him poised to sharpen his claws on what looked like a very expensive chest, I sprang to my feet and grabbed him. He writhed in my arms and reached up with one paw to scratch my cheek. Fortunately, Winter was also standing and took him from me before I strangled him right then and there.
‘Your familiar is … interesting,’ George remarked politely.
Brutus’s head shot up and he glared at him. With one twist of his body, he leapt out of Winter’s arms and sauntered over to George. ‘Pet,’ he demanded.
Winter senior raised his eyebrows. ‘Very interesting.’ He leaned over and looked Brutus in the eye. ‘I will pet you if you behave.’
Cat stared at man and man stared at cat. I had the uneasy feeling this was going to end badly. However, Brutus flopped onto his back and presented his belly. Winter’s father did indeed reward him with a stroke. Okay, then.
Sophia bustled back in, carrying a silver tray. She set it down gently on a table. Seeing doilies and delicate china, my heart sank.
‘How do you take your tea, Ivy?’
‘Milk and four sugars.’
‘Four sugars?’ she asked, as if I wasn’t sure of my own preferences.
‘Yes.’
She pressed her lips together. I resisted telling her that I needed the energy after what Winter and I had been through. Given the visible bruises we were both sporting, our recent experiences were obvious but his parents had not commented on them. It made me wonder what Winter normally looked like when he showed up for formal dinners.
Sophia poured tea and passed me a cup and saucer. I generally like my tea in gigantic mugs I can wrap my hands around. This dainty little thing seemed like it would snap if I looked at it for too long and contained little more than a mouthful of tea. Great. I tried not to look too disappointed and murmured my thanks.
‘I cannot believe it!’ shrieked a high-pitched female voice. It shocked me so much that I jerked and spilled tea all over myself. I leapt up. It was scalding.
Sophia’s eyes widened and she dashed over with a cloth. ‘Is something the matter?’
The ghost glared at her. ‘I’ll say something’s the matter! That’s the best china! What are you doing giving this gerrl the best china?’
Winter watched me, fascination lighting his eyes. ‘Who is it, Ivy? Who do you see?’
His mother dabbed at my front while the ghost put her hands on her hips. ‘Well, that’s hardly going to help, is it?’ She tutted. Of course; where there was a ghost, there was bound to be tutting. ‘My name is Hetty, for his information.’
I licked my lips. ‘Uh, a woman called Hetty.’
Sophia stopped what she was doing and stared at me. ‘Great-aunt Hetty?’
Winter coughed. ‘Recently, Ivy has discovered that she can communicate with the dead.’
‘And she’s talking to Hetty?’ Sophia’s gaze swung from Winter back to me again. ‘You’re talking to Hetty?’
Hetty herself rolled her eyes. ‘She never was the brightest gerrl.’
George looked mildly interested. ‘Fascinating.’
Sophia started to back away very, very slowly. ‘I don’t believe it,’ she whispered.
‘Tell that gerrl that she should believe it. I’ve been haunting her for years. I know everything there is to know about her. I’ll give away all her secrets.’ Hetty smacked her lips with self-satisfaction. ‘I know what happened at the Pickwick.’
I patted myself down to get rid of the remaining dregs of tea. ‘It’s lovely to meet you, Hetty. But this really isn’t the time.’
‘Not the time?’ Hetty flounced. ‘You’re supposed to help me pass over, gerrl!’
‘Apparently there’s a queue.’
She glared at me. ‘I’m practically family. I should be given special treatment.’
‘Come and find me later,’ I told her. I couldn’t cope with the expression on Winter’s mum’s face for much longer. She either thought I was making all this up for some underhand reason of my own or I was someone to be avoided at all costs.
Hetty opened her mouth to speak. I drew myse
lf up and gave her my best icy glare. ‘Come and find me later,’ I repeated. ‘Or I will never help another ghost pass over ever again.’ I almost meant it. Hetty, no longer quite the lady she was pretending to be, spat in my direction and disappeared. I breathed out. ‘She’s gone,’ I said to no one in particular.
Sophia stared at me. ‘What did she say?’
Uh… ‘She wasn’t very impressed that you’d given me the best china. And she called me gerrl a lot.’ I made an attempt to roll my rs in the same way as Hetty.
Sophia breathed out. From the look in her eyes, she was starting to believe me. ‘She did that a lot. Did she say anything else? Why is she here?’
Winter took over, briefly explaining the situation whereby ghosts wanted my help in clearing the curses that were holding them here. George, apparently already bored, nudged Brutus out of the way and got up to pour his own tea.
‘I never met the woman,’ he said to me in a shrugged aside. ‘She died before I came on the scene.’ He seemed unperturbed by all this. Maybe that was what came of a lifetime in the army; after a while nothing shocked you any more.
Sophia looked back at me. ‘Did she say anything else?’
I wondered if she really wanted to know. I shrugged. It was hard to believe that Winter’s mother could have any skeletons in her closet to worry about. ‘She said she knew your secrets and all about Pickwick.’ I shrugged. ‘That was about it.’
Sophia’s brow creased. ‘Pickwick? I don’t have the faintest idea what that is.’
George chuckled. ‘It’s not a what. It’s a where.’
She shook her head. ‘I still don’t…’ Her expression changed. ‘Oh.’ She sneaked a look at Winter.
‘What?’ he asked. ‘What’s Pickwick?’
‘The Pickwick Inn to be precise,’ George boomed, while his wife started blushing. ‘I was on leave. Only had a few days before I was due out again and we were determined to make the most of it, weren’t we, dear?’
Sophia choked slightly. ‘I don’t think this is the best time for this conversation. Maybe I should get out the baby photos.’ She gave me a desperate glance. ‘You’d like to see those, wouldn’t you? I have a wonderful photo of Raphael in the most adorable little dungarees—’