by Helen Harper
‘Actually, Eve,’ I said, ‘could you do me a favour? And I don’t mean shopping for junk food. Could you fetch Harold and bring him round? I’m, um, missing him.’
She looked dubious. I could well understand it – when Brutus, Harold and Princess got together, feline shenanigans always ensued. This was important, though.
‘Okay,’ she said slowly, obviously unwilling to deny the invalid her request. I could get used to this. ‘Give me a minute.’
When she returned with Harold in her arms, Winter reappeared holding two mugs of tea. ‘I’ve brewed it for four and a half minutes,’ he announced. ‘I think that is the optimum time for the perfect cup.’
I gave him an amused glance. He was clearly prepared to do just about anything to occupy himself. Despite my efforts to teach him, he wouldn’t learn the joy of simply doing nothing. Winter had to be busy.
Brutus woke up for long enough to give Harold a glare, while Princess Parma Periwinkle let out a small kittenish miaow of happiness at his appearance. Harold leapt down to the floor, ambled over to Princess and touched his nose to hers. Like her, he avoided going anywhere near the old lady. As far as scientific experiments went, it was hardly watertight but it certainly gave me food for thought.
Ten seconds later, Brutus decided that enough was enough. He charged off the windowsill towards Harold, claws outstretched. Princess fled for cover – and they all made sure they didn’t go anywhere near the woman. My flat wasn’t tiny but neither was it palatial; it wasn't easy to avoid an entire corner of it unless you were really trying. The fact that none of the cats went near my hallucination had to mean something.
Harold beat a hasty retreat. When Brutus was satisfied that he wasn’t returning, he leapt onto the coffee table and gave himself a smug lick. ‘Food?’ he enquired.
‘I’ll get you something,’ Winter said, bounding into the kitchen. I nibbled my bottom lip. Winter might be driving me nuts but I reckoned I wasn’t clinically insane after all. Good to know.
I’ve never quite understood people who aren’t good patients. I am an excellent patient. You want to bring me hot lemon with honey? Thank you very much. Mop my brow? Please, go ahead. Spoon-feed me? Well, if you insist. All the same, when I finally felt strong enough to go outside on my own, I felt like I’d been granted a new lease of life. I’d persuaded Winter that it was time for him to head up north and face the music with his own family over his resignation from the Order. As for me, I knew exactly where I was heading and who to ask for answers.
It felt strange arriving at the Order Headquarters and knowing that I wouldn’t see Winter while I was here. My skin itched at the thought that I was doing something behind his back by being here. However, I comforted myself that if I told him there was a creepy dead lady hanging around my flat he’d be even more determined to treat me like cut-glass and be even more stressed out. Work relaxed Winter and right now he had no work to do. Relaxing relaxed me. If I came clean, there was also the possibility that he’d lock me up in an insane asylum. Frankly, I wouldn’t blame him.
I parked round the back of the library building, hiding my taxi behind a large bus, and skirted the long way round to the main entrance. Normally I would have ignored all the traffic rules and stopped on the yellow lines out front, but I didn’t want to bump into anyone who might know me. And, even though the footage of Enchantment which involved me had been suppressed by a court order, I knew that virtually every witch in the country would recognise my face. I supposed that was what happened when you saved half of the Highlands of Scotland from zombies. All in a day’s work … or something like that.
I kept my head down, ignoring the people moving around me. Fortunately, the constant drizzle meant that I didn’t look out of place; everyone else was rushing to get to their destination rather than looking at passers-by. I dodged out of the way of a group of red robes, narrowly avoided a ginger cat patiently waiting for its owner – and almost smacked into a tall man standing in the middle of the path.
‘One should be more circumspect,’ he barked.
‘Sorry,’ I muttered.
‘Look at me when I’m talking to you!’
Involuntarily, I raised my head. The oddest-looking man was glaring at me. His irises were a strange yellow colour, more like a cat’s than a human’s. Perhaps he had a bad case of jaundice. I glanced at his long white bushy beard and his drooping moustache. His eyebrows were so bushy and unkempt that I reckoned I could probably plait them. There was also something familiar about him, as if I’d met him before.
‘What are you staring at?’ he snapped.
Jeez. One minute he wanted me to look at him and the next he was complaining about it. ‘Chill,’ I said.
‘Pardon?’
‘Chill.’
‘It seems rather temperate to me, despite the rain.’ He folded his arms. ‘I need you to listen. This is most important. You…’
The library doors opened and a group of witches came out, giggling among themselves. They were clearly Neophytes who hadn’t yet learned that to be part of the Order you have to be serious and sombre at all times and on all occasions. One had purple hair, one had blue hair, while the third was completely bald with a tattooed broomstick on the back of her skull.
The glowering man let out a small shriek. ‘Heathens!’
I glanced back at him – but he was no longer there. I spun round. Where the hell had he gone? He’d been right in front of me yet now the path was empty. A shiver descended through my body and a phantom surge of pain rose up to match it. Swallowing hard, I darted round the small group and into the library. This was not looking good at all.
The one saving grace was that at least it was warm and dry inside. I eyed the front desk, not recognising the witch behind it. The easy thing would have been to ask her where Philip Maidmont was; unfortunately, this wasn’t a day for taking the easy way out. I avoided her gaze and swerved right, hoping I’d find Maidmont without too much trouble. The library was huge and I didn’t want to traipse around it for hours.
I heaved myself up the first set of stairs, scanning round for the nervous librarian. There was a reverent hush across the entire place, as if speaking in a normal tone of voice would invoke untold horrors. I craned my neck upwards, spotting the ceremonial gold sceptre that Winter and I had recovered from the sewer below the basement. Although it was now back in a protective casing and no doubt had several spells round it, I hoped someone had thought to disinfect it thoroughly as well.
I dragged my eyes away and continued to look around. I was pleased to note that there was now a guard outside the heavy door to the Cypher Manuscript room. Yes, he looked beyond bored and, as I watched, he picked his nose, examined whatever sticky green snot he’d snagged then ate it, but at least there was someone there. The Order were proving they could learn from their mistakes. Then I shook myself. What the hell did I care what the Order did?
I was just about to turn left towards the study carrels, in the hope that I might find Maidmont in the quietest part of the quiet library, when a figure carrying a towering stack of books tottered round the far corner. Their face was obscured by the books but something about the shuffling gait made me think I’d found my man. I ambled over and cleared my throat. ‘Philip?’
There was a small squeak. Philip Maidmont jerked in surprise, sending the books flying in all directions. A young woman appeared from nowhere. The skin was peeling off half of her face, revealing charred flesh and the flash of white bone underneath. Oh God. She tutted in irritation while I hastily looked away and focused on Maidmont. ‘Hi.’
‘Ivy!’ He reached over and enveloped me in a warm hug. ‘It’s so good to see you! But should you be out and about? You look so pale. It’s almost as if you’ve seen a ghost.’
Ha. Ha. Ha. I gave a weak laugh and quickly bent down to pick up the books for him before anyone decided to come and help. Then I took the librarian’s elbow and steered him away to a sheltered corner.
‘I’m doing well,’
I told him. I risked a glance back. The scary half-faced woman had vanished. Breathing deeply, I swallowed and wasted no time in getting to the point. This place was seriously creeping me out. ‘But I need a bit of help.’
Maidmont’s eyes widened. ‘Of course! I’ll do anything you want. You’ve become a bit of a hero around here. It would be my honour to help you. Although,’ he added anxiously, ‘you don’t want me to set fire to anything again, do you?’
I forced a smile. ‘No. It’s … er…’ I scratched my neck awkwardly. ‘I could do with some help with research.’
He beamed. In fact, I’d say that he positively glowed. ‘Yes. Yes! What in particular? I came across a wonderful old book tucked away just this morning that details the healing properties of rabbit dung when mixed with…’
‘Er, no,’ I interrupted hastily. The bunnies could keep their poo. ‘I need to know about the side-effects of necromancy.’
Maidmont’s face immediately dropped. ‘Necromancy?’ He shook his head in dismay. ‘Oh no, Ivy. No, you can’t. I know what you did up in Scotland and I know you stopped that boy. But you can’t dabble in that kind of magic. It almost destroyed him – and you. You can’t think…’
‘Hush,’ I said. ‘I don’t want to perform necromancy. I don’t want anything to do with it. But something weird has been happening to me.’ I dropped my gaze. ‘I’m seeing strange things and I need to find out if there’s something wrong with me. Even better, if there’s a way to stop what’s happening.’
Maidmont drew himself up. ‘Strange things? What kind of strange things?’
I shifted from foot to foot. ‘The details aren’t important. But any information you have about any side-effects…’ I paused and swallowed ‘…and if I’m liable to become a danger to myself or to anyone around me, would be – helpful.’ Understatement of the year.
‘Danger?’ He shook his head vigorously. ‘Unless you’re performing necromantic magic, there can be no risk to anyone.’ He gave me a searching look as if to ask if that’s what I was doing. The trouble was that I didn’t know.
‘I’m not deliberately performing anything.’ My voice sank to a whisper. ‘But I might be using necromancy subconsciously. Either that, or I'm going crazy.’
Maidmont seemed relieved. ‘That’s impossible. You can’t accidentally cast spells. Look at the boy who did all this in the first place – Alistair, wasn’t it? He required blood to do what he did. It’s a very deliberate action and takes considerable power.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘I’m positive.’
‘So I’m nuts then.’ I wrinkled my nose. I suppose insanity was slightly better than turning evil and being able to destroy the entire country in one fell swoop. Slightly. The costume didn’t have the same potential, though.
Maidmont arched an eyebrow. ‘Tell me what you’re experiencing.’
I pressed my lips together. ‘I could tell you,’ I said, ‘but then I’d have to kill you.’
‘Not funny. Ivy, I can’t help you look for information until I know what information I should be looking for.’
Damn. I didn’t want to drag the poor guy into this but I needed to know. And not just for my own sake. ‘I think…’ I sighed. I was just going to have to come straight out with it. ‘I think I’m seeing ghosts.’ There.
Maidmont stared at me. ‘Huh?’
Yep. This was kind of how I’d expected the conversation to go. ‘I’m seeing ghosts,’ I repeated. ‘Not like Casper. They’re not wearing white sheets or anything like that. They just look like regular people but I think they’re – dead. Most of them aren’t in the slightest bit friendly. Not that I’d be feeling sociable if I were dead, but I’m just saying. They never ask me how my day is going, they just complain or tut or yell. I wish they wouldn’t. I wish they’d go away. So, Philip, you can see why I’m kind of concerned. I absorbed necromantic magic to stop Scotland from exploding and now I’m communing with the dead. I’d like to know if I’m going to explode and how I can stop them appearing. Or at the very least from tutting. There’s only so much censure a girl can take.’
Maidmont kept on staring at me, his mouth hanging open slightly. There was a shred of green caught in his teeth. It might have been lettuce but I wasn’t sure and this probably wasn’t the time to point it out. ‘Ghosts are tutting at you?’ he asked finally.
I shrugged. ‘Or tsking. To be honest, I’ve never been sure about the difference between a tut and a tsk. I think the last ghost might have been tutting at you for dropping all those books rather than at me.’ I hesitated. ‘But I kind of made you drop the books by surprising you, so I guess she was getting at me by default.’ I forced a smile.
Maidmont still hadn’t blinked. Concerned that his eyeballs might dry out and I’d be responsible for him going blind, I reached out and shook his shoulder. ‘Hello? Philip?’
‘Uh … let’s sit down,’ he said weakly. Then his legs gave way and he sank down onto the floor rather than looking around for a chair. I shrugged; it worked for me. I joined him, crossing my legs and resting my chin on my hands while Maidmont tried to recover.
After what seemed an age, he nodded almost imperceptibly and looked at me. ‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘I’m just a bit – surprised. I believe you, though. I’ve never heard of anything like this before and, working here, I’ve heard a lot of odd things. Why don’t you start from the beginning?’
I gazed into the distance. ‘The very beginning? It started in Scotland. Right after I took the kid’s magic from him, I saw a floating head. It spoke to me.’ I twisted my fingers in my lap. ‘It was Benjamin Alberts, the Enchantment contestant who’d died. At the time, I was in so much pain that I passed out. Afterwards, I assumed it had just been my imagination or something to do with the trauma of what was happening. Afterwards, though, in the hospital when I woke up…’ My voice drifted off.
‘Go on,’ Maidmont said quietly. There was no censure in his tone and his expression suggested nothing except encouragement.
I heaved in a breath. ‘There were lots of them. People, I mean. None of them looked healthy.’ Images of gaunt old men and bloodied children flickered through my head. My stomach twisted with sudden nausea and I glanced at Maidmont. ‘I was on heavy painkillers,’ I said, doing my best to find a rational explanation. ‘Morphine and stuff like that, so everything was a bit dreamy. But they kept coming in and talking to me. I thought they were real to begin with, but it didn’t take long to work out that no one else could see them.’ I gave a short, humourless laugh. ‘I asked one woman, who wandered in and demanded to know where her baby was, if she’d spoken to one of the nurses. Winter was there at the time and he answered me. Then he stepped back and passed right through her as if she were nothing more than air. She looked annoyed, then she just vanished. Right in front of my eyes.’
Maidmont cleared his throat. ‘And what makes you think they’re ghosts and not just hallucinations? Because you had a few of those, didn’t you?’
‘I had one,’ I replied flatly. ‘One hallucination caused by the kid’s magic. And it was of a bloodstain.’ I shuddered. ‘What I’m seeing now is nothing like that. I thought maybe they’d disappear if I pretended they weren’t there. I thought maybe I was going crazy. But I think cats sense them too.’ I told him about Brutus, Princess and Harold and the way they’d avoided Cobweb Lady.
‘It’s been two months since Scotland and they won’t go away. There’s a woman who all but lives in my damned flat. There was a red-robed guy outside, with the bushiest beard and moustache that I’ve seen in my life, who talked like he’d come from another century. His eyes were yellow! Who the hell has yellow eyes? Not to mention the woman here in the library I already mentioned. They’re everywhere, Philip. And they keep talking to me.’ I met his eyes. ‘Am I going crazy? Or is the necromancy I absorbed taking me over?’
Maidmont’s face was still very pale. ‘The man outside, the one with the beard. Can you describe him in more detail?’
I
scratched my head and did my best. As Maidmont listened, the young woman with half a face reappeared. She crouched down and stared at him. ‘He has something stuck in his teeth,’ she declared. ‘It’s disgusting. In my day, librarians paid far more attention to their personal hygiene. No one likes to be breathed on by someone who still has their lunch hanging out of their mouth.’
I ignored her and continued talking. When I finished, Maidmont nodded and stood up, brushing invisible dirt off his robes. ‘We should go,’ he said. There was an unusually decisive air about him.
My eyes widened. ‘Go where?’ I asked.
‘The dentist would be a good idea,’ the woman said.
Maidmont pursed his lips. ‘Just come with me. There’s something we should check first.’
I slowly got to my feet. Maybe he was going to drag me off to the loony bin – or stab me in the back before I became an uncontrollable necromancer.
‘It’ll be fine, Ivy,’ he said reassuringly. ‘Trust me.’
‘You should never trust anyone who doesn’t floss,’ the woman said.
I nodded to Maidmont. ‘Okay. Let’s go.’ I gave Half Face a fleeting look. She was really creeping me out. ‘Quickly.’
Chapter Two
Maidmont led me out of the library. Unfortunately the rain had stopped and there were more witches around than before. I scooted behind him, using his thin frame to try and hide myself. ‘What are you doing?’ he asked.
‘Skulking,’ I whispered. ‘I can do without someone recognising me and stopping for a chat.’
I could hear the smile in his voice. ‘Don’t worry,’ he assured me. ‘We’re not going far.’ He stepped off the path to avoid the oncoming people and I shuffled gratefully along behind him. Frankly, it was nice to walk with someone who didn’t march around as if they were in a competition with Time itself. I started to relax – until I realised where Maidmont was taking me.
‘Whoa! I’m not going in there!’ I said, shaking my head at the main Order building. I swivelled on my toes and started walking in the opposite direction.