by Helen Harper
‘The Order never goes against the police, Ivy. We always do what they say, even when we don’t agree with it. It’s the only way the two organisations can work together.’ Winter sniffed. ‘But I’m not with the Order any longer. If we can free ourselves and combine our magic, we can create a sleeping spell strong enough to knock out everyone here and that’ll give us time to get away. Even if Blackbeard and the owner arrive, it’ll be a couple of hours before this lot come round and can answer any questions. We should have enough time to regroup and decide upon a plan of action.’
I’d created a monster. ‘Or wait outside for Blackbeard to show up and go with our original plan of taking him down right here.’
‘Yes,’ he said drily, ‘because that’s working out so well this far.’ Sarcastic bugger. ‘Okay, let’s do that.’
I felt really bad about the security guard but sleep would probably be the best thing for him. It would give him a chance to recoup his strength. I’d keep telling myself that. ‘Can you wiggle free?’
Winter snorted. At least three of the police officers who were standing around waiting for orders swung their heads towards him, their eyes narrowing. ‘Piece of cake.’
Two of the policemen peeled off and moved towards us. ‘Then hurry.’
Winter laughed softly and I felt the bonds loosen instantly. Damn, that was good. ‘On a count of three.’
‘One. Two.’
The nearest policeman glared at us. ‘What are you two up to?’
Together we chanted, ‘Three.’
Magical power billowed up inside me, expanding outwards and suffusing the room. I felt Winter’s magic mingle with mine until you could barely tell the difference between the two strands. The spell coalesced and the magic danced – and the mingled policemen dropped like flies.
‘Wow,’ I whispered.
Winter stood up and turned, pulling me to my feet and gazing into my eyes. ‘You felt that too?’
‘Yeah.’ I licked my lips and we smiled at each other gleefully, as if we were Bonnie and Clyde. There was definitely a thrill in breaking the law, even if it was done with the best of intentions. I drew in a shaky breath. Then we got moving.
Taking a moment out, I checked on the hapless security guard and pulled off the policeman who was now snoring on top of him. I turned the guard carefully onto his back, adjusting his head so that he’d be comfortable and wouldn’t choke on his own tongue. My eyes drifted down to his badge. Alan Hopkins. So that was his name. Sorry, mate.
‘Ivy,’ Winter said, ‘if you’re wishing that you were fast asleep like this lot, can you do it from outside when we’re in place and ready for Blackbeard?’
For once the thought of sleep hadn’t even occurred to me, even though my head was still pounding. I guess Winter was affecting me much as I was affecting him. I flashed him a quick smile and we darted out.
My trusty taxi was sitting exactly where I’d left it, although now it was concealed by the police cars parked haphazardly outside the crematorium. Brutus had apparently slept through the entire ruckus. I’d have thought that our spell had affected him as well, except that he let out a tiny miaow when we got inside, followed by a half-hearted demand for food. I reached back and gave him a quick scratch behind his ears and he immediately fell asleep again. Oh, to be a cat.
We didn’t have to wait long. Dusk had now fallen and the headlights of the approaching vehicle could be seen for miles. Winter and I hunkered down and waited. I couldn’t decide whether I wanted this to be Blackbeard – Hal Prescott – or not. It would be good to get this over and done with but I wasn’t feeling my best. I had my doubts about Winter, as well. His right eye was puffing up and the skin around it was turning a vivid purple colour. He was probably in as much pain as I was. But if this really were Blackbeard, we couldn’t afford to hide in the corner and lick our wounds. We would be forced to act.
‘We’re heroes,’ I said aloud.
Winter shot me a look. ‘With massive egos.’
I shrugged. ‘False modesty is a waste of time. Besides, look at us. I’m covered in sick and you’re covered in blood. We’re both covered in bruises and could do with some serious medical attention. But we’re still here and we’re still going to take on Blackbeard. If we can find him.’
Winter’s response was quiet. ‘What other choice is there?’
The car pulled into the car park and came to a halt. ‘Hush,’ Winter cautioned.
I nodded and slid further down in my seat. ‘Stay down, Brutus,’ I said unnecessarily.
The car’s engine was switched off. Although it was difficult to tell what make it was given the poor light, the car was certainly large and expensive. That engine hadn’t growled, it had purred. Dead pets paid well.
Winter and I held our breath but we needn’t have bothered. Only one figure got out of the car and it definitely wasn’t Blackbeard. Whoever this was, they were clean shaven, with a full head of hair and a far slighter build. Daddy, then. But where was his bearded bastard of a witch-killing son?
We waited until Prescott senior vanished into the main building then I turned on the taxi engine and drove us out of there, turning left at the crossroads.
‘Maybe we should have stayed,’ Winter said. ‘Blackbeard is bound to show up sooner or later.’
‘So are more police,’ I pointed out. ‘Prescott isn’t going to hang around and wait for that lot to wake up, is he? He’s going to call in the cavalry. We need to skedaddle.’
Winter shook his head as if what we’d just done was only just starting to sink in. He passed a hand over his forehead. ‘What a mess.’
I reached across and patted his arm. ‘Look on the bright side. You can’t get fired.’
He didn’t seem entirely appeased.
I flicked on the indicator to turn right. A heartbeat later, I changed my mind. ‘Do you see that?’ I said.
‘See what?’ Winter grunted. His former life was probably still passing in front of his eyes.
‘That building in front of us. It’s pretty swanky, right?’
He glanced over. ‘I suppose.’
‘And it looks new?’
Winter peered more closely out of the window. ‘Yes.’
I grinned. ‘Raphael Winter, you are a very lucky man. If I weren’t such a conscientious witch, we’d still be up the creek without a paddle. I’ve just found us a boat engine. If Mahomet won’t come to the mountain…’
He was still confused. ‘What on earth are you going on about?’
My grin widened. ‘While you were snoozing, Alan the security guard mentioned that Blackbeard, aka Hal Prescott, lives in a swanky new apartment building. That, my friend, is a very swanky, very new apartment building. And it just happens to be a few miles from the family crematorium. Handy, huh?’ I threw him a sidelong look. ‘What’s that gut instinct telling you now?’
Winter sat up straight and flexed his fingers. ‘Ivy Wilde,’ he breathed. ‘I’m head over heels in love with you.’
I beamed.
Chapter Sixteen
We were on a clock; it wouldn’t be long before the police were dispatched to this address. Somehow I didn’t think you could send half a squadron to sleep and not expect every stone not to be turned by the police officers who were still awake. If they had any common sense, they’d come here eventually. In any case, even if time weren’t of the essence, I’d lost patience with working surreptitiously. Winter obviously felt the same. We didn’t even discuss the matter; we simply strolled through the front doors, ignoring the well-placed CCTV cameras and walked up to the sleepy-looking security guard at the front desk.
‘Hal Prescott,’ I said. ‘Where is he?’
The guard blinked and stifled a yawn. Then he took in our vomity, bloody, bruisy appearances and sat up straight. ‘Er, who are you?’
It was Winter who answered. ‘Adeptus Exemptus Raphael Winter from the Hallowed Order of Magical Enlightenment. We need to find Hal Prescott immediately.’ He leaned forward. ‘It’s a m
atter of life and death.’
Our less than salubrious appearances must have added credence to Winter’s words. The guard was more than eager to help us out. ‘Of course, sir,’ he said. His cheeks turned bright red. ‘I mean Adeptus Exceptus. Exemptus. Shit. Sorry.’ He coughed. ‘Shit.’
‘Don’t worry about it,’ I said. ‘Civilians often struggle when confronted by us for the first time.’
He nodded vigorously, obviously relieved that I’d given him reason to act like a stumbling numpty, and turned to his computer. Unfortunately, his relief didn’t last long. After a few frantic key taps, his brows knitted together anxiously. ‘I’m afraid, Mr Prescott isn’t here. He’s informed us that he’ll be away for the next week at least.’
A whole week? My stomach dropped. Whatever Blackbeard was planning, we could be certain that it would be catastrophic. His supposed interview as part of Clare’s coven was on Tuesday; that left at least five more days for him to cause even more havoc and kill even more people.
‘Do you have a mobile phone number for him?’
More key taps. The guard swallowed. ‘No.’
Winter and I exchanged glances. ‘Then,’ he said, ‘you’re going to have to let us into his flat. We need to search it without further delay.’
‘I can’t…’ The guard tugged at his collar. ‘I don’t think I can do that. You need a warrant.’
Winter folded his arms across his broad chest. ‘You’re right. It’s important to stick to the letter of the law. The trouble is that lives are in danger and we don’t have time to get the warrant we need.’ He paused. ‘Why don’t you just tell us which flat belongs to Mr Prescott? We’ll take things from there. Any measures we take will occur without your permission or your knowledge.’
I was impressed. Winter didn’t treat the guard like an idiot and didn’t deny what we were here to do. He did, however, speak with a smooth command that was difficult to ignore and his words had the clear ring of sincerity. ‘If we do nothing, people will die,’ he said softly. ‘I guarantee it. You have the chance to help us stop that from happening.’
The guard swallowed. ‘Okay. Yes. I can tell you which flat is his. But I can’t know about you going in there, alright? I need this job.’
‘All you’re doing is telling us which number he lives in. That’s all. No one will ever know.’ Winter’s voice dropped. ‘Most real heroes are unsung.’
The guard gave an almost imperceptible nod of his head. ‘Twenty-three,’ he whispered. ‘Mr Prescott lives at number twenty-three.’
‘You’re a brave man,’ Winter said. ‘Thank you.’ He whirled round and headed for the stairs.
‘There’s a lift waiting,’ I said. ‘It’ll be faster.’
I expected Winter to disagree but he didn’t. He simply nodded and joined me, stepping inside the lift and hitting the button for the second floor. The doors closed smoothly and he turned to me. ‘I lied to that guard,’ he said quietly. ‘It’s not something I make a habit of. I’m sorry, Ivy. I don’t usually pretend to be someone I’m not.’
I blinked. For a moment, I wasn’t even sure what he was referring to. Then I realised he’d pretended that he was still with the Order. ‘It was for the greater good, Rafe. You were right. If we can’t find and stop Blackbeard, people will die. The end justifies the means. And you don’t ever have to apologise to me, not for something like this.’
‘I won’t compromise who I am,’ Winter said. ‘The end does not always justify the means. Lose your morals, regardless of the reasons why, and you lose yourself.’
‘You’ve not lost your morals. It was a tiny lie, Rafe. You were Adeptus Exemptus, after all.’
‘It was still wrong.’
I wasn’t so sure. ‘We have to find Blackbeard,’ I said helplessly.
The lift doors opened. ‘Yes,’ he said quietly. ‘We do.’
He strode out of the lift with his long-legged gait, moving even faster than he did normally. It was a struggle for me to keep up but fortunately we found number twenty-three quickly. Rather than have Winter agonise further over breaking and entering as well as lying, I jumped in and cast a rune to open Blackbeard’s door. The adrenaline coursing through my veins was a little too strong, however, and the magic slammed the door open with such force that the damn thing almost fell off its hinges.
‘Are you okay, Ivy?’ Winter asked.
I nodded. ‘Yep.’
‘If you’re not…’
I stepped across Blackbeard’s threshold. ‘I’m absolutely fine.’ Then I marched in, ready to do battle.
If I were interior designer for a psychopathic murderer, I decided, I would probably aim to produce somewhere that looked exactly like this. The floors were dark tiles lined with dark grout. Slit someone’s throat here and you wouldn’t have to worry about staining anything. One quick mop and you’d never know that blood had been spilt. I thought of Winter’s desire to scrub away at my bathroom grouting. Next time I got the chance, I would get a black Sharpie and colour it all in to look like this. Job done.
The walls, from the corridor to the living room and the bedroom beyond, were all painted in a stark white. I supposed that some people would have described the style as minimalist. To my untrained eye, it looked depressing. Coupled with the unsheathed samurai sword hanging on a wall, together with the gleaming twin knife blades hanging opposite, there was more than a pinch of the sinister.
‘It’s very … clean,’ I said finally, gazing round the pristine, empty surfaces. How could anyone live like this?
Winter grunted. From the expression on his face, even he seemed to think this place was a step too far.
The kitchen was all stainless steel and more shiny black marble stuff. There wasn’t so much as a kettle on display. Winter began to open drawers and cupboards but nothing seemed to take his interest. I left him to it and ambled over to a wall of smoky mirrors. There wasn’t a single smear anywhere. I shook my head in amazement. If I lived here, it would take less than an hour for them to become permanently streaked with a combination of grease, dust and goodness knows what else.
It rankled that we’d been able to stroll in here so easily. Blackbeard thought very highly of himself. He obviously expected someone to look for the murdered coven members sooner or later, hence the booby traps he’d left on their doors but there had been nothing preventing our entry here. He didn’t think that anyone would be smart enough to catch up to him – or maybe he didn’t care. It wasn’t as if there was much lying around to give us clues about what he was planning next.
Irritated by both the cleanliness and Blackbeard’s apparent arrogance, I exhaled onto the mirror, steaming up as large a section as I could. While Winter’s huffing from the kitchen grew louder, I used the tip of my index finger to draw a smiley face. Whatever happened, I liked the idea of Blackbeard sitting on his perfect white-leather sofa and suddenly realising that someone had been in here and marred his Zen bachelor pad with a cheeky smile.
For effect, I reached over to add two bushy eyebrows. As I did so and pressed down on the mirror, I realised that it felt loose. The mirror moved when I touched it. I knocked on the smooth surface; it definitely sounded hollow.
‘Rafe!’ I called. ‘Something is here!’
He was by my side in an instant. ‘What?’
‘This mirror,’ I told him. ‘It’s concealing something. There’s definitely something behind here. It’s a cabinet or a false wall.’
He stretched out his fingertips, splaying them across the glass. There was a faint clunking sound when he pressed down and he sucked in a breath. ‘There must be a way to open it properly.’
I nodded. It is one thing to use magic to open a door when you can see the mechanism and understand how it works, but you can’t just throw a spell at something you don’t understand and expect it to do what you want. Life doesn’t work like that and neither does magic.
I took a step back and looked around. ‘There has to be a remote control or a button. The glass is too c
lean. There’s no way Blackbeard uses his grubby mitts to open his bat cave. It would ruin his perfect aesthetic.’
Winter pursed his lips in agreement and we started searching. There wasn’t much lying around; in theory, it shouldn’t have taken long to find the secret key.
‘We know his name now,’ Winter said, as he delved in between the sofa seat cushions. ‘You don’t need to keep calling him Blackbeard.’
‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘But Hal sounds like a friendly guy. The sort you’d invite round to a barbecue and let play with your kids. Blackbeard is an evil bastard.’
‘I don’t think we’re likely to forget that anytime soon.’
Indeed. ‘He’s as calculating and clever as he is cold.’ I didn’t think I’d ever come across anyone who was genuinely evil before. Since meeting Winter, I’d met a whole range of plonkers, from selfish and nasty to stupid and self-centred. There had been thieves and murderers and general evil-doers. But while each of them had committed evil acts, there had been a certain method to their madness. They all had motives for doing what they did; I couldn’t condone their actions but I could understand them a little. Blackbeard was different – there was a wellspring of darkness inside him. Yes, he purportedly killed Clare’s coven because he hated witches but I was sure that was an excuse. The man needed to justify his actions to himself but I’d lay money on the theory that he just enjoyed killing.
With that thought bouncing around my head, I straightened up and abandoned my bid to search for a key to open Blackbeard’s den. No, I didn’t know how this door worked but I did know how glass worked.
I raised both hands. ‘Winter?’ I said calmly.
‘Yes?’
‘Duck.’ I flicked out the rune and the glass instantly shattered into a million pieces. I have to admit that the effect was pretty amazing although the sound was bloody loud. So much for my smiley face. Oh well. I rarely did subtle – Blackbeard would definitely know we’d been here now.