by Helen Harper
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.’
Chapter Thirteen
It didn’t take a genius to realise that Eve hadn’t imagined the smell. I didn’t even have to open my front door to notice the reek – and there was no denying what it was.
Winter glanced at me. ‘Is that…?’
‘Cat pee?’ I opened the door to fully appreciate the eye-watering effect. ‘Oh, yes.’
He looked embarrassed. ‘I’m so sorry. Princess Parma Periwinkle is never normally like that.’
‘Don’t apologise. I’d lay money on this all being down to Brutus.’
For a moment Winter looked puzzled then his face cleared. ‘The phone call earlier. This is what you were on about.’
I nodded grimly. Yeah. Talk about rubbing your nose in it.
Princess was nowhere to be seen. Brutus, however, was sitting on the windowsill and staring outside. I marched over. ‘What gives?’
He didn’t so much as twitch.
‘Brutus,’ I said, in my best stern voice, ‘why have you been peeing in here?’
‘I’m so sorry, Ivy!’ Eve appeared in the doorway. She was dressed in overalls and holding a spray bottle. ‘I’ve gone through a litre of this stuff trying to get rid of the smell and clean it all up but I can’t seem to find it all. Poor Brutus has really gone to town.’
My eyebrows flew up. Poor Brutus? ‘Oh,’ I said, ‘I wouldn’t feel too sorry for him. He knew exactly what he was doing.’ I glared at his back. He still didn’t turn around but I was fairly certain that there was a whisker quiver. He was probably suppressing a feline belly laugh.
‘He obviously missed you.’
‘We were only away for one night,’ I pointed out. ‘And he had you.’
‘And Princess Parma Periwinkle,’ Winter added.
‘All the same…’
‘Don’t worry about it, Eve,’ I told her. ‘It was very kind of you to try and clean up but I’ll sort this out.’ I looked around. ‘You could have used magic, you know.
’
She seemed taken aback. ‘But that would have been a waste of energy.’
My mouth dropped open in astonishment. Winter looked away, trying not to laugh. ‘Elbow grease never did anyone any harm, Ivy,’ he said, with barely suppressed mirth.
I took the spray bottle from Eve and passed it to him. ‘Go on, then. You are really into your cleaning, you can sort this out.’
‘I can’t. I have to call the Order and warn them about what’s going on. If Blackbeard is trying to gain entry, they need to know straight away.’ He hurried out of the room.
I sighed. ‘Two days ago all he wanted to do was clean. I should have stayed ill for a bit longer.’
Eve looked almost as amused as Winter had. ‘Who’s Blackbeard?’ she asked.
I grimaced. ‘Long story.’
Brutus got to his feet and stretched out before turning towards us and yawning pointedly. ‘Bitch,’ he hissed.
‘I’m going home,’ Eve said hastily.
I waved a hand at her. ‘Yeah, that’s probably a good idea.’
She flashed me a quick smile then departed almost as quickly as Winter. I glared at Brutus. ‘You made everyone run away.’
I could swear he shrugged. Jumping down from the windowsill, he padded towards me, coiling himself around my legs. ‘Bitch,’ he said again.
I crouched down and scratched him behind his ears. ‘I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘I didn’t mean to leave you behind. I didn’t think we’d be away overnight. I did miss you a lot.’
Brutus sniffed and gave me a head butt. He let out the tiniest purr.
‘You shouldn’t have done that in here, though. We all live here. It’s not just your home.’ Remembering how my old geography teacher had managed to make me feel guilty when I’d used magic instead of brain power to complete my earthquake project, and had got not just the entire school but the entire town evacuated because of dangerous tremors, I pasted on a suitably serious but sad expression. ‘I expected more from you. It’s not that I’m surprised, Brutus. It’s that I’m disappointed.’
His head drooped as if in apology. ‘Miaow.’
I wiggled a finger in my ear. ‘Pardon?’
Brutus slowly looked up at me, his yellow eyes wide and limpid. ‘Brutus sorry.’ He rubbed himself against my leg once again, although this time there was a hint of desperation to the action. I nodded, satisfied. Brutus understood that what he’d done was wrong and that he shouldn’t do it again. It was the best I could ask for. He tilted his head to one side and blinked slowly at me. For a big cat, he could do cute when he wanted to.
‘I wouldn’t have stayed away if it wasn’t important,’ I told him. ‘And you had Eve. You like her. And Princess Parma Periwinkle.’
His tail began to flick dangerously from side to side. ‘Love Ivy,’ he said.
My heart melted. Eve was right, he’d missed me. Abandoning all pretence that I wasn’t his slave, I did the one thing that I’d promised myself I wouldn’t. ‘Before I go looking for the pee which you’ve left behind, would you like some food? Some tuna treats?’
Brutus purred. Yeah, no surprise there then.
I got him what I’d promised and, while he gobbled the treats down at breakneck speed, I flicked out a quick rune to dim the natural light in my flat. With my other hand, I created a rune for blacklight. It was the fastest way to locate where exactly Brutus had peed. There were probably just a few spatters somewhere in the corner. I just had to… My mouth dropped open.
Winter, wandering back in, stopped in his tracks and stared at the wall. ‘Is that…?’
I folded my arms and nodded grimly. The little shit. ‘Brutus!’ I yelled.
He came sauntering back in, having finished his treats in record time. No wonder; if I’d seen this, I’d have denied him tuna until his next life. He sat down in the middle of the floor, washed his face then glanced up to admire his handiwork. There, across my entire wall, sprayed in cat pee was the word ‘bitch’.
In the corner, the old cobweb-covered woman appeared. She craned her neck, took in the full effect of what Brutus had achieved and started to cackle loudly. I sighed. I was being driven out of my home by ghosts and cat piss.
‘Screw this,’ I said to Winter. ‘Let’s go catch ourselves a serial killer.’
Although I was still pissed off at him – and making sure he knew it – Brutus appeared determined to come with us. Rather than leave him to destroy my flat completely, I let him. Winter seemed more amused than anything. When Iqbal beamed delightedly at the sight of my furry frenemy and made a fuss over him, I glared, Winter smiled and Brutus purred.
‘You’re not going to believe this,’ my old friend said. ‘But I’ve finished my first draft.’ He twirled in delight. ‘Sixty-three thousand words.’
Impressed, I reached across a tottering pile of books and gave him a hug. ‘That’s brilliant!’
He nodded. ‘Yes, I am brilliant. I will accept any and all accolades.’ He bowed.
‘I don’t know why he’s making such a big deal about it,’ sniffed a white-coated man with crazy hair springing out in all directions. ‘It’s not very good.’
I flicked the ghost a look. ‘Don’t be mean,’ I said sternly. After seeing what Brutus had achieved, I wasn’t in the mood for dissenters.
Iqbal stared at me. ‘Who are you talking to?’
‘Well,’ I said, ‘while you’ve been busy writing, I’ve been busy having conversations with the dead.’ In a loud stage whisper, I added, ‘They’re not very interesting. And they don’t know as much as they think they do.’
The Einstein-esque ghost scoffed loudly. ‘Oh yeah? Well you didn’t know there was a mass murderer on the loose, did you? We told you that. He’d have carried on without any of you realising, if it wasn’t for us.’
‘You’re dead,’ I said. ‘You can see everything and go everywhere. There are thousands of you – and yet none of you can tell me who the killer is or where I can find him.’
‘We’re dead, not omniscient. Anyway,’ he sniffed, ‘I’m supposed to tell you that Ipsissimus Grenville wants to see you.’
‘He’ll have to wait,’ I growled.
Iqbal glanced at Winter. ‘Has this been happening a lot?’
‘You get used to it,’ Winter said. ‘And it’s not all that bad. It keeps her occupied and makes her feel wanted.’
‘Oi!’
He grinned.
Iqbal’s hands rose to his cheeks and he gazed at the pair of us. ‘Look at you. It’s like you’ve just discovered your first spell.’ He sighed happily. ‘Young love.’ The ghost pretended to vomit and I was pretty certain that Brutus rolled his eyes. ‘When do I get my wedding invite?’ Iqbal enquired.
I laughed. ‘Hold your horses.’
‘Have you met your future in-laws?’
‘No,’ I shot back. ‘I haven’t.’
He visibly deflated. Winter jumped right in. ‘But she will tomorrow. We’re all having dinner together.’
Iqbal lit up all over again. ‘See? One minute you’re lounging on your own sofa eating cold pizza in your knickers, and the next you’ll be wearing pearls and baking cupcakes to bring to your mother-in-law.’
Fear widened my eyes. ‘Baking cupcakes? Do I really have to do that?’
‘Of course not,’ Winter said. I began to relax. ‘My mother despises cupcakes. She prefers old-fashioned Victoria sponge cakes.’
I half choked. Domestic goddess I am not. Hastily changing the subject to the reason why we were here, I picked up Brutus to prevent him sending the pile of papers that he was batting at from falling to the floor. I looked at Iqbal. ‘We’re not here to banter about my culinary skills,’ I said. ‘We’re here because—’
‘You need my help,’ he finished for me. ‘Of course. Now that I’ve finished sixty-three thousand thesis words, I will be happy to oblige. It’s either that or I have to start editing the damn thing. I got a lot of leeway from my supervisor because I helped you save Scotland from zombies. Any more worl
d-rescuing operations I can sidle into are very welcome.’
I frowned. ‘Did you help us save Scotland?’
‘I got you information.’
‘Information that in the end had nothing to do with zombies.’
He shrugged. ‘That wasn’t my fault.’
True. ‘Well,’ I said, ‘this time it’s witches we are hoping to save.’ My light-hearted tone dropped several notches. ‘Seven are already dead and we expect there will be more if we don’t catch the bastard who’s doing it.’
Iqbal’s humour and banter vanished in an instant. ‘Go on.’
I disentangled Brutus’s claws from several of my curls while Winter explained. ‘Right now,’ he said, ‘we’re playing the waiting game.’ The frustration in his voice made it clear how annoying he found that. ‘We’re waiting on the police telling us where the coven members’ post is being re-directed to. We’re waiting on the Order working through their files to find out what happened with the coven’s application to become Order witches. And, unfortunately, we’re waiting on Blackbeard making another move.’
‘What?’ shrieked the ghost in my ear. ‘That’s your plan? To wait until he kills more witches? That’s ridiculous! That’s not a plan!’
I winced and stepped away. Even if I secretly agreed with him, technically there was more to it than waiting for further deaths.
Brutus hissed loudly and wriggled out of my arms so he could dart into the corner where it was apparently safer. ‘Why didn’t you tell me you could see ghosts?’ I asked him as he shot behind another dusty pile of books.
Brutus bobbed his head up from behind the literary parapet and flicked me a look as if to say I was being stupid and that I’d never have believed him. I sighed. Yeah, he was probably right; it wasn’t worth getting into now.
Iqbal coughed pointedly. ‘Well,’ he said, ‘there is definitely one thing I can help with. It came up in my research for my thesis. If you’re going to explore the history of magic in the British Isles then you also need to explore the absence of magic too.’
Both Winter and I leaned in. ‘Go on.’
‘Nulls,’ he said. ‘People who are entirely unaffected by magic. It doesn’t matter what you throw at them or how powerful a witch you are, they’re immune.’