by Helen Harper
‘He has to be burning the coven witches somewhere.’
‘True.’
‘And he doesn’t appear to be involved with, or have visited, any other crematoria.’
‘True.’
‘And this place, Dignity Valley, is in the ideal location with transport links to both Dorset and Dartmoor.’ He paused. ‘Not to mention Oxford.’
‘True.’ I scratched my head. ‘Far be it from me to be the voice of reason and to suggest that our evidence isn’t concrete, but there’s still no definitive proof that this is the place. It’s all circumstantial.’
Winter’s eyes met mine. ‘I know,’ he said quietly. ‘But you feel it, don’t you? As if we’re on the right track.’ He shook his head slowly. ‘I’ve never put much faith in instinct before, it’s always been about cold, hard facts. You’re affecting me in more ways than either of us realise.’
My mouth suddenly felt dry. ‘I hope that’s a good thing.’
‘It couldn’t be better.’ His gaze held me. ‘You don’t have to be afraid of me, Ivy. I would never hurt you or put in you in harm’s way.’
‘I’m not afraid of you, Rafe,’ I answered honestly. ‘Sometimes the things you say can come across as a little scary but I’ll never be scared of you as a person.’ I gave a crooked smile. ‘Besides, I can look after myself.’
‘If you could look after yourself, you would eat healthily, go to the gym and sort out your own damned grout,’ he said.
I smirked. ‘Love you too, baby.’ I leaned across and planted a kiss on his lips. From the back seat, Brutus sighed loudly. Yeah, alright. ‘Time to go and catch a killer.’ Or so I hoped.
It was early evening by the time we pulled up outside Dignity Valley. Considering its business was effectively death – and I had yet to meet a ghost who wasn’t a ball of tension – it looked remarkably peaceful and serene. It wasn’t just the lush green surroundings or the clean modern lines of the buildings, which somehow fitted the country landscape. There was an overall atmosphere that felt wholly relaxing. Perhaps animals were simply more accepting of their fate than humans, though I hadn’t met any ghostly dogs or cats yet so I couldn’t say for sure. In any case, Dignity Valley, despite the nature of its everyday events, did not seem a likely venue for a serial killer. Or mass murderer. Whatever.
Brutus opened a lazy eye then closed it again, immediately going back to sleep. Winter and I climbed out of the taxi and walked up to the main entrance.
‘Maybe I should be wearing a disguise,’ I suggested. ‘You know, in case we bump into Blackbeard.’
‘Good disguises take a lot of time and effort.’
I considered this. ‘It wouldn’t have to be a good disguise. I could dress up as a clown and pretend to be looking for a children’s party. That wouldn’t be hard to do.’
‘A clown? At a pet crematorium?’
I shrugged. ‘A bit avant garde, I admit.’ I glanced at him. ‘Blackbeard would recognise you too, so you should wear a disguise as well.’
‘I am not dressing up as a clown, Ivy.’
I wrinkled my nose. ‘No, a clown wouldn’t suit you. I was thinking of something more distracting. Tarzan, perhaps. That would be easy to manage. You just need to strip off and I’ll fashion you a quick loincloth to wear.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous.’
I kept my expression blank. ‘You can go starkers, if you’d prefer.’
Winter pressed his lips together. ‘You know we’re here tracking down a vicious, evil bastard who has destroyed at least seven lives and who would destroy many more given half the chance?’
‘This is what we humans do. We have a sense of humour and we make the best of everything. If you can’t laugh, what’s the point of living?’
Winter’s eyes travelled slowly up and down my body, heat flaring in his gaze. ‘I can think of one or two things.’
Beaten at my own game, I swallowed and looked away. If I looked directly at Winter much longer, I’d be tempted to jump him right here in the car park. ‘Let’s find that vicious, evil bastard, shall we?’ I said instead.
A smile tugged at Winter’s mouth but he nodded in agreement.
The glass-fronted façade of Dignity Valley was nondescript. It could have been the front of any office or business. Perhaps there was a factory somewhere churning out identical buildings so that everywhere in the land leisure centres, police stations, DIY depots and dead-pet disposal services looked exactly the same.
This particular establishment was closed. There were no lights on inside and the doors didn’t swoosh open as we approached. That was a shame – I love electronic doors. What’s better than not having to expend the effort to turn a door handle yourself? They are almost on a par with robot vacuum cleaners and the moving walkways you get at airports.
Winter searched around for a doorbell or comms box. I tilted my head to one side and pulled back my hair, drawing a quick rune to temporarily extend my hearing. There was only so much magic could do but I was certain I could hear the faint strains of what apparently passed for music in these parts. I tapped Winter’s shoulder and gestured round towards the back of the building. He nodded and we carefully edged down a well-worn path.
The music, some godawful screeching with a heavy bass line that was totally at odds with the peaceful surroundings, was coming from a fire door that had been propped open round the back. Winter and I exchanged glances and immediately snuck in.
Avoiding the source of the music, we veered left, following a drab beige corridor round a corner and into an enormous room stacked full of urns and boxes. Suddenly I was glad that Brutus had chosen to stay sleeping in the taxi rather than come with us. He’d never struck me as the kind of cat who would enjoy picking out his own urn, although no doubt if he did he’d demand the top-of-the-range, gold-plated version just to enjoy emptying my bank account. In reality, when it was time to use the thing, he’d be dead and he wouldn’t care what kind of vessel his remains ended up in. Of all the things the ghosts had complained about, none of them had mentioned being irritated by their physical holding arrangements.
Turning around again, Winter headed for a closed door halfway back down the corridor. The difference as we entered this new area was marked: these walls weren’t a dull, dirty colour but a calming light purple. There were three small offices to the right, none of which were locked. Winter stepped into the first one and lifted a photo frame from the small wooden desk. He glanced at it, returned it to its place then shook his head.
I headed into the second office. There weren’t any helpful family photographs in this one but there was the lingering scent of heavy perfume. Unless Blackbeard had a penchant for sickly florals with lilac undertones, this room had nothing to do with him either.
Winter checked the final room, exiting almost as quickly as he entered with a gruff, albeit muted, denial. If Blackbeard did work here, he didn’t have anything to do with the management team.
We headed towards the front and the deserted reception area. The name tag on the desk was for an Alison Hibbert. No luck there, then. We continued, popping into family rooms no doubt designed for heartbroken pet owners to wait in. Apart from tastefully placed fake flowers, and leaflets to help people through the grieving process, there was nothing here. Maybe instinct didn’t count for much after all.
Winter beckoned me over. ‘There’s nothing here that’s of any use,’ he whispered.
I nodded. ‘We should look for filing cabinets and personnel files. Maybe we’ll get lucky and there’ll be photographs of the employees.’
‘As a last resort, we’ll have to confront whoever is still here playing that music in the back. But until we know more about who Blackbeard is and who his friends are, I don’t really want to do that.’
I gave him a sloppy salute. He was used to this kind of gig and knew what he was doing. ‘Maybe we should search the smaller outbuildings,’ I suggested. With any luck, we’d bypass the furnaces. The thought of them gave me the creeps.
We went back the way we’d come, taking as much care to stay quiet and remain unobtrusive as we could. The music now had a more muffled quality, as if the sound had been turned down. Relaxing a little, I picked up my feet and moved a faster. That was my first mistake.
Slightly ahead of Winter, I turned the corner towards the back door entrance and froze. Silhouetted against the darkening sky was a large man, standing at the threshold and smoking. I barely had a second to take him in before I pulled back and grabbed Winter’s arm, gesturing frantically. Because of the light and the fact that he’d been turned away I hadn’t seen the man’s face clearly – but there was definitely a shiny bald head and a bushy black beard.
Winter’s eyes darkened to a stormy blue and he dipped his head forward to look. Almost immediately he drew back in, his features and his body tense. We shared a glance of grim determination – coupled with a tiny edge of satisfaction. Although I’d felt the same as Winter and my gut had been telling me that Blackbeard’s trail would lead here, I hadn’t expected to find the man himself.
Winter tugged at my sleeve, pulling me further back into the main building. He didn’t speak until we were out of earshot. ‘He’s wearing a uniform,’ he whispered so quietly that I had to strain to hear. ‘He must be a security guard.’
I agreed. ‘And on the night shift, no less.’ It was perfect – if you wanted to secretly cremate bodies without being observed. ‘How do we do this? We can’t use magic against him because it won’t work. And if he’s a security guard, he’s probably armed.’ Not with a gun – this was middle England, after all – but there was a chance he had a Taser or a knife. Even a baton used by someone who knew what they were doing could cause us problems. Hell, for all we knew he could have a bloody submachine gun with him. It was unlikely, but nothing was impossible where Blackbeard was concerned. Besides, I was a plump woman of less than average height and rather dubious fitness. Winter, naturally, was in a better position to attack Blackbeard without a spell to back him up but even he would find it tough. The man was built like an oak tree.
‘You stay here,’ Winter said. ‘Call the police, the Ipsissimus and whoever you can get hold of at Arcane Branch. Tell them to advance here on the double. I’ll make sure Blackbeard doesn’t get away.’
‘You’re fit, Winter, but he has to be twice your size.’
‘I can do this.’
He was an idiot. ‘Actually,’ I said, ‘I don’t think you can. Look, just because we can’t use magic directly against him doesn’t mean we can’t use magic around him.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘We could weaken the building’s foundations to the point of collapse. I know a few spells for that. We bring several tonnes of concrete down onto his head, then he’ll stop moving. He’ll be as flat as a pancake.’
Winter nodded gravely, as if he were taking my suggestion seriously. ‘There’s just one tiny problem with that scenario, Ivy.’ He waved a hand. ‘We’re inside the same building and the only way out is the exit where Blackbeard is standing.’
Ah. Okay. I could concede that point. ‘Fine. But there must be a way.’
‘Well, I suppose we could—’
‘Who the fuck are you?’
Winter and I sprang backwards in shock. Then, without thinking, I let out a war cry and ran headfirst towards Blackbeard. My head smacked into his not-inconsiderable belly and he let out a loud oomph of surprise. He reached down, grabbed a hank of my hair and dragged me upwards. It felt like my scalp was being ripped out. I shrieked in pain and writhed, trying to kick my way to freedom. My feet connected with solid flesh several times but Blackbeard wasn’t letting go of my hair for anything.
While I swung ineffectually round like a doll being held by a giant, Winter leapt towards the pair of us with his fists raised. Blackbeard let out a guttural, inarticulate yell of rage, confusion and fear. The sound reverberated round my skull while I stared dumbly at his face. Arse. Double arse. Triple arse. Arsing hell with an arsing cherry on top for effort. This was very bad.
Unfortunately, before I got the chance to say or do anything, he flung me to the side so he was free to face Winter’s onslaught. I both felt and heard my head crack against the concrete wall. Pain shot through my body, rippling through me in waves that made it difficult to think coherently. I was dimly aware of Winter letting out a howl of rage of his own. I opened my mouth to speak but all that came out was a strange grunt. Blinking several times, I tried to focus but it was no good. My vision was blurred and two Winters and two bearded men were hovering and wobbling in front of me.
Winter threw the first punch, slamming into Blackbeard’s face. His jowls juddered and blood spurted out from his nose, splattering onto the floor in front of me.
‘Wait,’ I tried to croak. ‘Stop.’
Neither of them heard me – and even if they had, I doubt they would have paid any attention. I tried to stagger to my feet but I didn’t even make it to a crouching position before I collapsed again. ‘Rafe,’ I said.
Both versions of him ducked away from two swinging fists. I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to clear my vision. It was making me incredibly nauseous but that was nothing compared to how I’d feel if either of these two got seriously hurt.
‘It’s not him.’
Blackbeard’s doppelganger reached down to his belt to unclip whatever weapon he was carrying. Winter was determined not to give him the chance, however, and shoulder-slammed him, knocking him to the ground. Unfortunately Winter fell with him and both men rolled around on the floor, grabbing, kicking and trying to hit each other. From this angle, it looked like they were making love rather than war but the grunts and yelps of pain told a different story.
My head felt like it was going to explode. It wasn’t a throbbing ache, it was an all-out, searing pain that made it difficult to think. And I was definitely going to throw up at any moment. I sucked in a breath and concentrated. I had to do something before these two killed each other and I should probably do it now before I passed out.
My rune was sloppy; truth be told, it would barely pass muster in the weakest non-Order coven. As long as it did what I needed it to do, though, that didn’t matter. I intended to douse them in icy water. A good drenching, as Winter well knew because he’d done the same to me in the past, was more than enough to jolt anyone back to reality.
Unfortunately, the blow to my head meant I was thrown off my game. From out of nowhere, a shower of ice cubes rained down not just on Winter and the security guard but across the whole room. Within seconds there were four inches of ice cubes carpeting the floor and I was shivering violently.
Winter managed to extricate himself from the fight and rushed over to me. ‘What are you doing? What’s wrong?’
Thank goodness. I raised my eyes to his, an action that took a lot of effort and energy, particularly as I still didn’t know which was the real Winter. ‘It’s not him,’ I croaked. ‘That’s not Blackbeard.’
He frowned. ‘What?’
I opened my mouth again but it was too late. The security guard raised his hand and thumped Winter on the back of the neck. Winter collapsed, his body sprawled heavily against mine.
‘I’ll try again,’ the guard said, blood streaming from his nose and into his beard. ‘Who the hell are you?’
I’d have answered him if I could. I really wanted to answer him but consciousness was too difficult to sustain and the lights dancing in front of my eyes were taking over. Another surge of nausea rippled through me then I passed out too.
I returned slowly to the world of the living. For the first few seconds nothing hurt and I wondered if I were still alive or if I’d joined the ranks of all those angry spirits. It didn’t take long, though, for the pain to make a comeback – and when it did, it was like being hit with a ten-ton truck.
I could have played dead and used the opportunity to learn more about the situation I was now in; that’s what a Hollywood heroine would have done. Instead I moaned loudly, then I threw up.
Thanks to the fact that I was now trussed up like a chicken, the vomit ended up all down my front instead of anywhere moppable. I groaned again.
The security’s guard face loomed in front of me. At least there was now only one of him and I was no longer seeing double – but I still blinked rapidly. His resemblance to Blackbeard was quite uncanny but, now I was close to him, it was obvious that this was a different man. He didn’t have an earring for one thing, and his ear didn’t have the tell-tale hole where an earring might once have been. His face was older, with laughter lines around his eyes and mouth, and his dark beard was speckled with grey. The real giveaway was the expression in his eyes; it was brimming with suspicion, worry and more than a little fear. It certainly was nothing like the dead emotion in Blackbeard’s gaze.
‘Ivy,’ I muttered to myself, ‘you’ve really screwed up this time.’
‘Ivy? That’s your name?’
I nodded, then wished I hadn’t because moving my head made me feel sick again.
‘Figures,’ he grunted. ‘I had a girlfriend called Ivy once and she was the craziest bitch you’ve ever met.’ He sucked on his teeth and regarded me through narrowed eyes. ‘Apart from you, of course. You’ve already outdone her. Well done.’
Uh, thanks?
‘You’re a witch?’ he asked.
‘Yes,’ I managed.
‘And your boyfriend?’
I could feel Winter’s familiar weight at my back. He was definitely breathing regularly but, given his lack of response, he was probably still unconscious. I weighed up the benefits of lying and decided there was no point; untruths would not aid our cause now. I needed the guard to realise we’d made an honest mistake. ‘He’s a witch as well.’
The guard’s pupils narrowed to pinpricks. ‘What does the Order want with a pet crematorium? And why would you attack me? We don’t do funerals for witch familiars here, you know. We’re not evil, either.’
My brain was sluggish and it took some time to get my tongue to form the right words. ‘I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. We thought you were someone else. Someone really dangerous. It was a genuine mistake.’