by Helen Harper
Brutus, slightly braver now that none of the stuffed creatures had twitched, ventured out towards the horned cat, sniffing warily. He raised a paw and struck it sharply on the head then backed away again, as if more disturbed by the stuffed cat’s lack of response than that it looked like Dr Frankenstein’s favourite pet. Why anyone ever thought that taxidermy was a good thing was beyond me. I loved Brutus to bits but if he died before me, he was either going in a hole in the ground or…
I shot to my feet. ‘Pets!’
The others stared at me in alarm. Winter’s eyes flicked from side to side. ‘Who are you talking to this time, Ivy?’
‘You! I’m talking to you! Look,’ I said, feeling an ecstasy of urgency flood my veins that was most unusual. ‘The police have investigated the crematoria, yes?’
‘All the ones with a reasonable radius of Dorset and Dartmoor,’ the Ipsissimus answered.
‘All the crematoria?’ I pressed. ‘Or just the human ones?’
Maidmont looked confused but Winter immediately grasped my meaning. ‘Pet crematoria,’ he said. ‘The temperatures to cremate the body of a dog must be the same as those required to burn a human’s.’
I nodded. ‘And while I’m sure they have strict rules, they’re probably not as rigorously inspected as human crematoria.’
‘There won’t be that many of them,’ the Ipsissimus said. ‘It wouldn’t take long to pinpoint any which Blackbeard might have used.’
‘How would he sneak a human corpse into a pet funeral service?’
I shook my head. ‘Maybe he works in one. Maybe he lives next to one.’ I shrugged. ‘I don’t know. But it has to be worth checking out.’
Maidmont got to his feet. ‘Give me fifteen minutes,’ he promised. ‘I’ll find out if there are any around that area.’
‘They probably won’t be in Weymouth or on Dartmoor,’ Winter said. ‘He’ll be using different locations to avoid detection.’
‘But,’ I added, ‘he won’t want to travel too far for the same reason.’
Maidmont frowned. ‘You do know I’m a librarian? Research like this is my bread and butter. I know what to look for.’
I grinned. ‘Sorry. We trust you, Phil!’ He raised his eyes to the heavens and left.
The Ipsissimus knitted his fingers under his chin and watched me. ‘Are you sure, Ms Wilde, that you wouldn’t like to return to the Order? I really do think you might fit in better than you realise.’
‘She’s sure,’ Winter snapped. Then he looked apologetic. ‘I’m not trying to speak for you,’ he muttered to me.
I gave him a quick, reassuring smile. ‘I know.’
‘Pfffft!’
I jumped as Ipsissimus Grenville’s head appeared next to the stuffed bear’s. Brutus hissed and darted away again. ‘He should speak for you,’ the ghost said. ‘He’s a man. He has a far better understanding of Order matters than you ever could.’
I gritted my teeth. ‘Yes, he does, but only because he used to be in the Order. Not because he happens to be a man.’
Grenville frowned. ‘What do you mean used to be in the Order? Has he been expelled? Did you conspire to have this good man thrown out?’
I didn’t deign to answer that question. I’d already had words once with Grenville about his rudeness and I wasn’t going to repeat myself. Frankly, at this point in time he needed me a great deal more than I needed him.
Ipsissimus Collings looked fascinated. ‘Is that Ipsissimus Grenville?’ He clapped his hands. ‘How wonderful! I’ve been reading his old journals. They’re quite fascinating.’
Grenville harrumphed loudly and floated down from the bear to the Ipsissimus’s face. ‘You’ve been reading my journals? Those are private, sir! In my day a gentleman would never stoop to such an act.’
‘I’ve just reached the part where you went back and perused the diaries of one of your predecessors,’ Ipsissimus Collings burbled happily. ‘And you realised that there was a lot you could learn from the past. Now we can communicate with each other through Ms Wilde, we can learn from you. This is truly a fortuitous opportunity.’
I snorted at Grenville’s expression. His face contorted further and he whipped round. ‘Shut up, woman!’ he thundered. ‘This is all your fault,! Do you have any idea what a mess you’ve created? Just as things finally seemed to be looking up, I’m getting spirits from all over the damn country complaining to me because of what you’ve done!’ His voice was still rising. Whether that was a special gift granted to all ghosts, or whether he’d managed to achieve similar decibels when he was alive, I didn’t know but it was an impressive sound.
I leaned back further in my chair and lifted my legs, propping my feet on the table. Both Ipsissimus Collings and Winter frowned but they were too intrigued by what Grenville might be saying to admonish me. I made a show of inspecting my fingernails; out of the corner of my eye, I could see that steam was almost coming out of Grenville’s ears.
‘Ivy,’ Winter said, ‘does Ipsissimus Grenville have any insights to offer about Blackbeard? Could he perhaps send some ghosts to search for him? They could prove to be our salvation.’
Grenville didn’t react to Winter’s suggestion. His attention remained wholly on me. ‘Don’t you want to know what you’ve done?’ he demanded.
I started to pick at a hangnail as Grenville started to stamp his feet. Perhaps we all regressed into childhood after we died. Spending the afterlife throwing temper tantrums didn’t seem like the best use of a phantom’s time, but maybe with eternity to contemplate there wasn’t much else to do. What did I know?
‘Maybe he could speak to Clare Rees and the other coven ghosts again,’ Ipsissimus Collings suggested. ‘Ask them if they noticed anything to do with animals, or if they had any pets that died recently. If they used a pet crematorium to dispose of their pet’s remains, that might be how Blackbeard targeted them in the first place.’
I looked up. ‘That’s a really good idea.’
‘I can’t talk to anyone else!’ Grenville yelled in my face. ‘They won’t talk to me any more! And it’s all your fault! Because you’ve screwed everything up, the others all want a new representative! We’ve spent a long time working out a schedule. There is a hierarchy and some people have been waiting here for generations. The queue has been established for over a century and you leapfrog it willy-nilly! That last spirit whose curse you smashed had only been here for a decade or two. He was number 22,633 and you put him at the front of the line! And that idiot who couldn’t keep his penis in his clothes wasn’t much higher. This is what happens when women are given a bit of freedom. They mess everything up!’ He held up his palms towards me. ‘I can’t even bear to look at you. You have no understanding of anything.’ He shook his head and vanished.
Winter raised his eyebrows. ‘Well?’
I bit my lip. ‘I don’t think Ipsissimus Grenville is in a good mood. We might be on our own for a while.’
The door banged open and Maidmont reappeared, clutching a piece of paper. His face was shining. ‘I think I have the place,’ he said. ‘I think this might be where Blackbeard is burning his victims.’
There was a brief mutter from underneath the table. ‘Thank fuck,’ Brutus said. ‘We need to depart this hellhole tout suite.’
I started and looked down at him. Had I really just heard that? He blinked innocently and started to lick his paws.
Chapter Fifteen
‘We should call the police and get them to visit the place,’ Ipsissimus Collings said.
Winter pursed his lips. ‘They don’t know what they should be looking for. It’ll be like sending in a barber to do the work of a plumber. It’s not about using magic, it’s about having the knowledge to follow the right clues and find the right person.’
‘There are Arcane Branch witches nearby, some very talented ones. We could send them in.’
‘But they haven’t seen Blackbeard in person. Ivy has. She’ll recognise him faster than anyone else. Besides, if one of the Arcane
Branch witches gets twitchy and uses magic by accident, they could ruin everything.’
The Ipsissimus grimaced. ‘But if Blackbeard is there because he works there, he’ll recognise you both and the game will be up.’
Winter drew back his shoulders. ‘If Blackbeard happens to be there, he won’t be walking out of that building unless he’s in our custody or a body bag.’
Even I sucked in a breath at that one. Winter had a way of saying things that could send serious shivers of fear down your spine. It was probably the military blood in him, and the way he managed to be so sincere and yet completely matter-of-fact whilst discussing killing another human being.
The Ipsissimus was prepared to continue arguing. ‘You are both civilians. You have no place…’
‘When you put Ivy on Dead Man’s Hill with an incantation to draw a necromancer’s magic and martyr herself, she was a civilian.’ Winter stared at his old boss, his eyes like chips of blue ice. The moment of silence that followed was one of the most uncomfortable of my life.
‘Fine,’ the Ipsissimus finally said. ‘But don’t screw this up.’
Winter was very still. ‘You forget who you’re talking to.’ With that, he turned on his heel and stalked out, Brutus and I close behind him.
It was fascinating to see Winter transform into icy action. It was if he shut down part of himself so he could focus on only one thing. As a testament to his witchy commando mode (and if only he really would go commando under those well-tailored trousers) I even gave him the keys so he could drive. Then the three of us piled into my trusty taxi.
‘Put your seatbelt on, Ivy,’ he instructed.
‘This pet crematorium is only a guess, Rafe. Blackbeard might have nothing to do with the place.’
‘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 marke
d: 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.