by Helen Harper
I breathed a sigh of relief. It felt like a massive weight had been taken off my shoulders. An involuntary chortle of glee escaped my lips and I raised my hands, my fingers sketching a rune. The nearby fireplace roared into life, the flames dancing and writhing in an unnatural manner.
‘Man, that felt good.’ I examined my hands. ‘I hadn’t realised how much I needed magic until I couldn’t use it.’
A faint smile crossed the Ipsissimus’s face. ‘Yet you did not hesitate to deny yourself that which you so desperately desired. You are to be commended, Ms Wilde.’ He looked me up and down. ‘Perhaps Adeptus Exemptus Winter is rubbing off on you in ways both seen and unseen. It is obvious that you are affecting him.’
‘You keep calling him that,’ I said. ‘But he’s not in the Order, Ipsissimus. He’s no longer Adeptus Exemptus.’
‘He will change his mind.’
I shook my head. I wasn’t so sure about that.
The Ipsissimus leaned towards me. ‘We need him to change his mind. He is vital, Ms Wilde. To everything.’
‘I don’t understand.’
He pursed his lips. ‘The recent events in Scotland have forced me to reassess many things. I need to stop pussyfooting around and ensure I have an appropriate successor in place. I did not believe Raphael was ready for that role, but the way he left the Order behind because of his loyalty to you…’
Whoa there. I held up my hands. ‘Don’t bring me into this. He left on his own terms.’
‘Ms Wilde, until you came along he lived, breathed and ate the Order. Many of our witches do. But to be Ipsissimus is to take on board heavy responsibilities. Without a strong and steady network and a life outside work, it is impossible to succeed. The pressure is too great. And that is not all. If one is wholly absorbed in the Order, one can lose sight of the bigger picture. Now that Raphael Winter – Adeptus Exemptus Raphael Winter – has you, he possesses that bigger picture.’
I felt uncomfortable at having this conversation without Winter present. The Ipsissimus kept on dangling juicier and juicier carrots in his bid to get Winter to return but somehow I didn’t think Winter would give two hoots about what was on offer. All the same, my curiosity got the better of me. ‘But you’ve said it yourself. He’s Adeptus Exemptus and that’s only Second Level. There have to be at least a couple of hundred witches who are ranked higher than Rafe.’
‘Two hundred and thirty-three, to be exact,’ he said. ‘Most of whom are tied to their specialisms and who are unable to see the wood for the trees. Adeptus Exemptus Winter has already proved he can manage upwards as well as down. You have more magical talent than he does, after all. His ego doesn’t interfere with that fact and he is more than capable of getting the best out of you.’
‘I’m one person, Ipsissimus Collings, and I’m in love with him. He gets a lot of leeway as far as I’m concerned. The Order, however, is thousands of people, most of whom probably hate him for being better than they are and for leaving when he could have stayed. Rafe doesn’t want it.’
The Ipsissimus’s answering gaze was frank and earnest. ‘And maybe that’s why he should have it. He has already shown he has more integrity than ambition. Besides, I’m hardly at death’s door. There is plenty of time for Raphael to take the necessary examinations and move up the hierarchy.’
‘Not if Raphael doesn’t want to,’ said Winter from the doorway. He looked pissed off. I wasn’t really surprised. ‘What exactly is it going to take for you to leave me alone?’
‘Come back,’ the Ipsissimus entreated. ‘Just think about all the good you could do.’ He reached inside his coat pocket and drew out a scroll.
I sucked in a breath. The last time the Ipsissimus had given me a scroll, it had been an incantation which had almost caused my death.
Winter’s expression was flat. ‘What is that?’
‘The paperwork that will bring you back in, Raphael. Your promotion. And more. I’ve already signed it. All you have to do is add your name and we can forget everything that has happened in the past. It’s time to move on.’
Winter crossed his arms. ‘No. I don’t know how many times you expect me to say the same thing.’
‘You belong in the Order. You know you do. You thrive on what we can offer you.’
‘I’m doing just fine.’
The Ipsissimus took a step forward. ‘As far as this investigation goes, you have no place in it,’ he said gently. ‘Because you’re on the outside. You’re not in the Order and you’re not in the police. I could force you to stay away from anything related to this Blackbeard fellow.’
‘Try it,’ Winter growled.
‘But that’s just it! I don’t want to do that. We need your expertise, Raphael. We want you on our side. But you know as well as I do that there will be more doors open if you are in the Order – and more doors slammed in your face now that you are not. There is only so much I can do. Return to the fold and you can take charge of this. You can find Blackbeard and bring him to justice. You can second Ms Wilde to your team and have the might and power of the Order behind you. You know it makes sense.’
Winter crossed his arms over his chest. Despite – or perhaps because of – his anger, he looked incredibly sexy. I’d happily have jumped him right then. Maybe I should have kicked the Ipsissimus back out to his car.
‘You need Ivy’s ability to talk to the dead,’ Winter snapped. ‘You don’t need me.’
‘You’re wrong about that. If you think things in the Order should change then tell us and we can look at implementing those changes. You know this is right. You know your place is with us.’
‘I’m not staying away from the Order because I’m sulking or because I want you to make me a better offer,’ Winter said. ‘I can do just as much good on the outside as I can on the inside. Except on the outside there will be less bureaucracy and less chance that innocent people will be hurt in the hunt for your supposed greater good. There’s nothing wrong with independence.’
Even I could see that the Ipsissimus was growing desperate. ‘We’re all on the same team.’
‘Good,’ Winter declared. ‘So let’s work together and find Blackbeard. We’ll get justice for the Dorset coven and we can do it by working together. I just won’t have that piece of paper stating I’m in the Order.’
The Ipsissimus splayed out his hands in defeat. ‘Do I have any choice?’
Winter shrugged his wide shoulders. ‘I suppose not.’
‘Then that will have to do.’ The Ipsissimus gave us both a benevolent smile. But even I could hear the unsaid ‘for now’, which was tagged on the end of that sentence.
Chapter Ten
Clare Rees lived – or had lived – in a nondescript little terraced house in the picturesque town of Weymouth in Dorset. We found it with no trouble and, even more helpfully, just as we reached the door Clare herself reappeared, gazing morosely at the pavement. ‘They don’t care,’ she said.
I looked at her askance. ‘Who?’
‘My family,’ she said. ‘My family don’t care that I’ve gone. They’re just getting on with their lives as if nothing’s happened. My mum is still helping out at the Salvation Army, my dad is still going to all his local darts matches with his drinking buddies. They’re laughing and joking. They don’t care. My sister, the person who I was closest to in the whole world, is planning a round-the-world trip for three months. She’s not seen me since May and yet she doesn’t care. No one’s so much as mentioned my name. It’s like I don’t exist. What the hell is going on?’
By now Winter was getting used to my sudden silences as I listened to my phantom friends. He stopped and waited while I gave Clare a sympathetic look. I could well understand what she was going through. When I die, I expect copious weeping. In fact, not just weeping but renting of clothes and gnashing of teeth. I want my funeral to take place in Westminster Abbey and to include at least two renditions of Tragedy – the Steps version and the Bee Gees one. While I lounge back in final rest, everyone else can
do the hard work. I will demand elaborate outfits with lacy black veils for both the men and the women. Maybe I’ll force my remaining family members to perform a contemporary dance number to express their dismay at my passing. Considering how often I seem to be close to death these days, this is probably something I should sort out. I ought to make a will and make my last wishes clear. Tomorrow. Or maybe the day after. Next week at the absolute latest. It is important to be prepared, after all.
‘You could look on the bright side,’ I suggested to Clare. ‘At least they’re getting on with their lives. They’re not wallowing in misery or letting grief ruin what’s left of their days. In fact, they might not even know that you’re dead.’
She wrinkled her nose as if I were spouting nonsense, probably because I was.
‘Yeah, screw that,’ I said. ‘They’re bastards who never deserved you in the first place.’ At least that raised a small smile.
Winter cleared his throat. ‘I’m going to hope that’s Clare and that she can tell you there’s a spare key hidden somewhere.’
‘Under the flowerpot,’ she muttered.
I pointed down. Winter bent over and retrieved it. Clare watched him with a downturned expression until he put the key in the lock and sudden fear flashed across her face. ‘What is it?’ I demanded. ‘Clare? What’s wrong?’
Winter froze.
‘I live alone. I’ve had other things on my mind and I’d forgotten that I was in a rush before I left for the last time. I think my dirty underwear might be strewn across the floor.’
I gave her a wise nod. ‘It’s the best place for it,’ I agreed. ‘You just have to be careful to keep it in localised piles otherwise you can trip on a loose bra strap in the middle of the night, go flying and end up in casualty with several contusions and a broken tibia.’ I paused. ‘Or so I’ve heard.’
‘I don’t want him to see my smalls!’ Clare half yelled.
‘Huh?’ I glanced at Winter. Oh. ‘Don’t worry. We virtually live together now. He’s seen much worse from me.’
‘Ivy, please. Just let me check. There has to be something sacred left to me. I have to have some privacy.’ Her panic was so palpable that there was nothing I could do but nod.
‘Wait, Rafe,’ I said softly. Clare stepped through the door, her spectral form passing through its solid oak veneer as if it were air. ‘Clare just needs to check on something.’
Winter gave me a confused frown but he did as I asked and took his hand from the door.
‘There’s not much dignity in death,’ I said, doing what I could to explain. ‘Clare won’t be on a metal table with her body exposed to uncaring eyes. She won’t be in a battered locker or jiggled around in a coffin. But that doesn’t mean that the next days aren’t going to involve strangers rooting through her life and passing judgment.’
‘She can’t stop that from happening, Ivy,’ he said. ‘And she can’t throw away any embarrassing pornography or secret letters or anything like that. She can’t physically touch anything.’
I stroked his arm. ‘She knows that. I think she just wants a moment to herself to come to terms with it.’ I raised my eyebrows. ‘Where are your embarrassing pornography and secret letters? You might as well tell me now before I stumble across them post-mortem.’ Winter rolled his eyes and snorted. I grinned. ‘You can find mine hidden at the bottom of…’
Clare’s head emerged from the door with wide-eyed alarm. ‘Ivy! Something is wrong!’
I whipped round towards her. There was a panicked note to her voice that went beyond anything I’d previously heard from her, something that suggested dire straits and horrendous consequences. Almost unconsciously, my arm shot out in front of Winter as if to protect him from what might be about to happen while I waited for Clare to explain.
‘There’s something strange attached to the door,’ she said. ‘I don’t know what it is and I definitely didn’t put it there. Someone has been inside my house and has messed around.’ Her voice rose further. ‘In my home, Ivy.’
Whatever she was talking about, it didn’t sound good. ‘Take a deep breath, Clare.’ As soon as I said it, I realised how silly it was telling a ghost to breathe but Clare didn’t seem to notice. Her hands had now also emerged through the solid door and were fluttering around in increasingly frantic movements. ‘Stay calm and tell me exactly what you see.’
‘It was that bastard, wasn’t it? The one who killed us. He’s been here. He’s messed with my stuff. He’s rooted through my things and seen everything there is to know about me. It wasn’t enough that he killed me and my entire coven, he’s taken my home and my life too!’
‘Clare,’ I soothed. ‘It’s okay. Just tell me what you can see. What’s on the door?’
She rubbed her face with both hands. ‘A wire.’
I nodded. ‘Okay, good. There’s a wire,’ I repeated aloud for Winter’s benefit. ‘Where is the wire exactly?’
Clare’s head disappeared momentarily as she went to check. ‘It starts at the bottom.’ She gestured to about a foot off the ground. ‘It runs horizontally from here to here,’ she said, motioning to either side of the door frame. ‘Then it stretches up to the top here.’ She indicated with her finger. ‘And there’s something hanging there. It looks like…’ She hesitated and stared at me.
‘Looks like what?’
Clare’s eyes were wide. ‘Like a grenade.’
I did my best to keep my feet planted in one spot and not go sprinting as far away as possible. Turning to Winter, I outlined what Clare had described. He nodded grimly. ‘It’s a tiger trap. The second we open the door the grenade will fall and—’
‘Kaboom,’ I finished for him.
‘Body parts everywhere,’ Clare breathed.
I grimaced. ‘I imagine so.’
‘You and him will be blasted apart. It’ll be impossible to tell which bits belong to you and which bits belong to him. There will be fragments of flesh and blood and bone and—’
‘Alright!’ I said overly loudly. ‘Thank you, Clare.’ Winter lifted a questioning eyebrow. I made a point of ignoring it. I already had vivid visuals running through my mind; I didn’t need to compound the issue by describing them out loud. ‘Is there another way in?’ I asked.
‘No.’ She paused. ‘Security is very important to me. I always made sure I lived somewhere with only one entrance. Otherwise someone might have been able to sneak in when I wasn’t looking and…’ She faltered.
Booby-trap her front door with a damn grenade, perhaps? I shook my head in disbelief. Enchantment made more sense than this. It was as if I’d somehow fallen into a Hollywood set – except I was no Sly Stallone.
‘I need to tell the police. And the Order,’ Winter said. ‘If Clare Rees’s house is booby-trapped then the others probably will be too.’
I straightened up. ‘Yes! Get the bomb squad here to deal with this. We can check into a hotel and leave them to it.’
‘Don’t be silly, Ivy,’ he said. ‘We can go round the back and find another way in.’
Uh-oh. The bad, squirmy feeling caused by the suggestion of blown-apart body bits began to intensify. No doubt Winter was going to suggest some convoluted ninja-esque entry. ‘But Clare said there’s only one door.’
A smile crooked up the corner of his mouth. ‘Ivy Wilde wouldn’t let a small thing like a door get in her way.’
You wanna bet? I opened my mouth to argue but Clare’s dejected face stopped me. ‘Fine,’ I grumbled. ‘But when my teeth are being picked out of your splattered brain matter, don’t come crying to me.’
***
Clare didn’t have any garden to speak of but there was a handy alleyway running down the back of the row of houses. It was surprisingly well kept; I guessed that, like her, her neighbours were concerned with appearances and were houseproud. There is nothing wrong with that, of course. Cleanliness is next to godliness, whatever that means. But the trouble with that sort of approach to life is that it never ends. Yes, you can take time to pick
the weeds from the pavement outside and scrub your skirting board and make sure there’s no dust collecting in any evil corners but you had to keep on doing it. If I had to do it all this week and then again next week and then the week after that, why not just leave it till next month? Or preferably next year?
Winter put his phone away. ‘What are you huffing about?’
I did my best to appear innocent. ‘Nothing.’
‘You have that look in your eyes.’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
Winter persisted. ‘Yes, you do. It’s the same look you get when you start thinking about getting off the sofa to do crazy things like answer the door or go out to work in order to pay your bills.’
I drew myself up. ‘Well, you have that look in your eyes too. The one that says you just had to speak to the Order and you secretly wish you were still with them so you could feel important and wanted, and had a nice shiny badge to wave at everyone.’
Winter frowned at me. ‘The Order don’t have badges.’
‘I bet you wish they did though. That way, when you went to talk to someone, you could take it out and flip it open.’ I mimed doing just that. Then I deepened my voice. ‘“Raphael Winter. That’s Adeptus Exemptus Raphael Winter to you. Arcane Branch. That’s Arcane Branch in the Hallowed Order of Magical Enlightenment. I take my coffee black and strong. And I glower at everyone who dares to look at me without receiving permission first. And I enjoy venturing into buildings where there’s a good chance I might get blown up.”’
Somewhere behind me, Clare snickered.
Winter tilted his head, something dangerous glinting in his blue eyes. Then he let his body sag and his shoulders slump. ‘ “Ivy,”’ he mumbled in a higher-pitched tone than normal. ‘“Can’t be bothered to form sentences or to shake hands with you because it’s too much effort.”’ He froze. ‘“Wait,”’ he said with a sudden toss of his hair, ‘“do I smell pizza?”’
I put my hands on my hips. ‘Ha. Ha. Ha.’