by Helen Harper
Winter didn’t move a muscle. ‘You just broke a mirror,’ he said.
‘Yep.’
‘A very large mirror.’
‘Yep.’
‘That’s seven years bad luck.’
I glanced at him. ‘Not according to you.’
‘I might not have faith in superstitions, Ivy, but you do.’ Winter’s blue eyes swept across the damage. ‘And both the police and Arcane Branch won’t be happy about what we’ve done to their crime scene.’
‘Neither the police nor Arcane Branch have got as close to Blackbeard as we have.’ I sniffed. ‘They’ll just have to deal with it. And I have faith in you. That will have to be enough.’ I pointed. ‘Look. There’s the secret door.’ I stalked up and kicked it open. I didn’t do that for effect – my hands were shaking so much that I didn’t think I could turn the handle.
‘We’ll catch him,’ Winter said. ‘His days are already numbered.’
I just nodded and walked into the claustrophobic darkness in front of us. It was Winter’s spell that lit the small room. To be honest, when I saw what Blackbeard had been concealing, I almost asked him to extinguish the light. If the flat outside was pristine, this was its natural opposite. After the bleakness of the other rooms, it almost hurt to look at it.
Every inch of wall space was covered with something. In some places, he’d pinned up yellowing news articles, all of them related to either magic, witches or the Order in some way. None of the headlines were positive. Other parts of the walls were plastered with sticky notes of all shapes, sizes and colours. Random words and numbers were scribbled on them, some as chilling reminders like ‘track down strong rope’ and others which made no sense whatsoever such as ‘here 6731’.
There were haphazard piles of books on the floor and several plastic bags that seemed to contain clothing. In the furthest corner, there was a towering stack of ornate boxes and urns similar to the container in which we’d found Clare’s ashes. Winter reached for one while I suppressed a shudder. He flipped open the lid and breathed out before showing me that it was empty.
‘There are still three missing coven members,’ he said. ‘Their remains have to be somewhere.’
I flattened my mouth into a thin line. ‘There’s been no sign of their spirits yet. They might not be here.’
Winter started searching through the rest of the collection. ‘Maybe there’s enough of Blackbeard’s null nature lingering here to hold the ghosts at bay. Or maybe he’s taken them with him. We have to check, though.’ His eyes met mine. ‘Their ashes are all the evidence we need against him.’
You could take the witch out of the Order but you couldn’t take the Order out of the witch. He was still thinking like an Arcane Branch officer. The truth was that we already knew Blackbeard was guilty and finding the rest of the coven’s remains would prove nothing. It would, however, give their families some small comfort. All the same, Winter still desperately wanted to do things by the book; he really was as orderly as the Order itself. I hoped he realised sooner rather than later that he belonged with them as much as he belonged with me.
I stepped back to give him more room, inadvertently knocking over one of the book piles as I did so. I was about to kick them out of the way but one of the titles caught my eye. I knelt down and examined it. Well, that answered one question.
‘Check this out,’ I said. ‘It’s a book on pagan black spots and their potential effects. It’s got to be at least a hundred years old.’ I flicked through the pages. ‘And there’s a bookmark in the section on Wistman’s Wood.’
Winter gave me a grim look. ‘He’s planned everything from the get go, hasn’t he?’
I bit my lip. ‘There’s a second bookmark.’ I turned the pages, sucking in a breath when I scanned through the text. ‘Uffington White Horse. That’s less than an hour away from Oxford.’
‘It’s the gigantic horse shape cut into the hillside. Is that pagan?’ Winter asked. ‘I thought it was just an Anglo-Saxon emblem commemorating a battle.’
‘No one knows for sure. But it does say here that nearby is the spot where St George apparently killed the dragon. There’s a bald patch where the dragon’s blood was spilt. It’s said that nothing can ever grow there.’
‘Sounds pretty damned mystical to me,’ he said. ‘Just like Wistman’s Wood.’
‘Yeah.’ I met his eyes. ‘It can’t be a coincidence that he’s made a note of this place. It’s so close to Oxford and the Order headquarters.’
‘Look through the other books. Maybe we can get more clues about what he’s planning.’
I nodded and started to crouch down. I was halfway to the floor, however, when my legs gave way completely and I ended up sprawled on my arse. Winter opened his mouth to say something and was forestalled by several loud shouts coming from further back in Blackbeard’s flat.
‘It took the cavalry less time than I expected to make this connection,’ Winter muttered.
‘Blackbeard’s dad was probably worried about his son,’ I said. ‘Either that or he suspects him. His own flesh and blood is a mass murderer – he must have some inkling about his son’s true nature. Maybe that’s why he really hired the security guard.’
Winter nodded and walked to the door, his palms splayed outwards to indicate he was unarmed. Unfortunately it didn’t seem to do much good; he was immediately body-slammed backwards.
‘Hey!’ I protested. Before I could get to my feet, however, a blank-faced, armed police officer waved a gun in my face.
‘Stay down,’ he snarled.
‘But…’
‘Secure the area!’ He made some complicated gesture with his hands; if he’d been a witch, they would have conjured up an effective rune. Instead of a spell, however, another suited and booted officer appeared, yelling for me to lie face down on the ground. For a split second I was tempted to cast a spell and get rid of this lot but I knew that it was probably wiser to cooperate. That was a very big gun and I’d already been in one more fight tonight than I’d planned. There are only so many times a girl can get knocked out before she ends up back in hospital. Right now I didn’t have time for that, which was a shame because hospital beds were pretty darned comfy.
There was the crunch of glass as several more officers stormed the area. Actually, forget about Blackbeard’s father; this was down to breaking the mirror. Seven years’ bad luck, I thought morosely. Starting right here.
We might still be in middle England but these officers were a lot warier and better trained than their counterparts at the crematorium. The first thing they did was to bind Winter’s and my hands behind our backs with clever knotting that prevented our fingers from moving. Even most witches weren’t that canny. I stopped admiring them when they yanked me sharply to my feet and all but dragged me back into Blackbeard’s living room and flung me on his sofa. Down. Up. Down. I wasn’t a yo-yo. They ought to make up their minds.
There was the faint ping of the lift opening followed by the most godawful yowling and screeching. It got louder and louder until three red-robed Arcane Branch witches appeared with Brutus in a cage.
‘We have secured the familiar,’ the nearest one said. This was followed by a nervous glance towards Winter, who’d been dragged over next to me. He might be tied up for the second time tonight but these witches were still scared of him. We could work with that.
Winter had obviously had the same thought. ‘Adeptus Minor Green,’ he said, in his best shiver-inducing voice. ‘Ms Wilde and I are both here for the same reason as you – to track down the killer of the Dorset coven. This is his place of residence. We entered it expecting that—’
‘Shut up.’ Despite his harsh command, Green’s voice still quavered. It didn’t help that Brutus was throwing himself against the bars of the cage and shrieking feline misery at a level of decibels that would normally require ear protection.
‘Brutus,’ I said, hoping for once he’d listen to me. ‘Just be quiet for now. Please?’
He paused for
a moment, his yellow eyes gazing at me from behind the metal bars. ‘Bitches.’
When he realised who had spoken, the burly police officer nearest me let out a high-pitched shriek that was even louder than Brutus had managed. Impressive. Brutus shut up and stared. Before things got completely out of hand, I tried to speak up. ‘Look, guys, we’re all on the same side here. Let’s—’
‘Don’t say another word.’
‘But—’
‘I mean it,’ the policeman threatened. ‘Say just one word and you’ll regret it.’
‘Sir—’
‘I told you!’ he screamed in my face.
Alrighty: perhaps he was being serious about the no-talking thing. Winter nudged me with his elbow, which was pretty unnecessary. I had the message, loud and very clear.
Chapter Seventeen
There was no waterboarding or strip searches. No mention of a lawyer or even a single question. Winter, Brutus and I were simply dumped unceremoniously in a cell together and left to cool our heels.
Unfortunately, we were not alone. I’d been enjoying the spiritual peace and quiet, so it was alarming to see how many ghosts were hanging around. I guess word had got out that they had a captive audience.
‘I heard,’ a plump woman shouted, ‘that you don’t care about Grenville’s list. That you’re helping less worthy spirits to pass.’ She put her hands on her hips. ‘Well, I died before my time. Anaphylactic shock. I’m not even supposed to be dead, let alone cursed. My son was barely seven when he said he wished I’d never find any peace in death and that was only because I asked him to clean his room.’
‘That was your own fault, Martha!’ bellowed another woman, who had a knife sticking out of her back. My eyes were drawn unwillingly towards it. ‘You deserved it.’
‘Don’t listen to either of them,’ advised an elderly man. ‘I’ve been stuck here for over three hundred years. Grenville’s list makes perfect sense. I’m near the top. Just help me and…’
‘You bastard!’ The two female ghosts rounded on him. ‘You only died last month! He’s lying.’
I put my fingers in my ears, closed my eyes and sang, ‘Lalalalalalalala.’ Then I opened one eye. Damn it – they were still there although they’d stopped arguing in favour of staring at me as if I were mad. Brutus and Winter had the same expressions as the ghosts pasted on their faces. ‘Look,’ I said. ‘I will help you out when I can. But can’t you see that I can’t do anything right now? I have bigger problems to worry about.’
‘Bigger problems?’ the plump ghost shrieked. ‘Bigger than death?’
‘You’re already dead,’ I said through gritted teeth. ‘I’m sorry, but there it is. I can’t change that. There are others who are still alive who might soon be dead like you if we don’t stop a killer in his tracks. I will help you pass over but not today. Come back at a later date.’
‘You have to promise. You have to promise to help us.’
I sighed. ‘I promise.’
She pouted. ‘But…’
‘Let’s go, Martha,’ said the other woman. ‘Another time.’
‘Yes.’
‘You won’t help us today.’
‘No.’
‘But you will another time.’
‘Yes.’
There were several grumbles but they all vanished. I breathed out and turned to Winter. ‘This sucks,’ I told him flatly.
He ran a hand through his hair. ‘Yeah.’
‘We could magic our way out of here,’ I suggested.
‘There are witches here. They’d stop us in heartbeat.’
Actually, they wouldn’t. Both Winter and I were stronger than any of them, even in our weakened states. I picked at the drying vomit on my top and flicked it off, vaguely disgusted with myself. He was no doubt blaming our incarceration on his flagrant rule-breaking. That showed what he knew.
‘If I hadn’t broken that mirror, we wouldn’t be here now,’ I said.
‘Bitch,’ Brutus muttered. Just this once, I was tempted to agree with him.
‘The mirror had nothing to do with it,’ Winter said.
‘Seven years, Rafe. Seven more years of this.’ I lay down on the narrow bed and closed my eyes. ‘I’m going to sleep. Wake me up in 2024.’
Winter put an arm round me. When I didn’t twitch, he sat on the edge of the bed. I scooted over to give him room and he lay down. It was a tight fit but he was snuggly and warm. I grinned to myself. By comforting me, he’d stop worrying that all this was his fault. It was a win-win situation. I relaxed and took advantage of the peace and quiet.
‘Food,’ Brutus demanded.
‘It might have escaped your notice, Brutus,’ I murmured, ‘but I’m not in a position to get you any food right now. You’ll have to be patient.’ My nostrils tickled as the smell of tuna drifted over.
‘Aw,’ said the irritatingly familiar tones of Tarquin, ‘you two look so sweet together.’
‘Food,’ Brutus repeated.
Winter and I sighed simultaneously. I opened one eye. Tarquin didn’t just have tuna with him. That looked like pizza. Damn him for being thoughtful.
‘Food,’ Brutus said, clearly hoping this was third time lucky.
I shrugged. My stomach was already growling. If you can’t beat ’em, join ’em. ‘Food,’ I said.
Winter sat up. ‘Foooooood,’ he groaned.
Tarquin looked from Brutus to me to Winter. ‘You know you three are really strange sometimes.’ He offered a disarming smile. ‘But I aim to please.’ He passed through the bowl of tuna and the pizza then, as we started wolfing down the food, he jangled a set of keys. ‘I’m not just here bringing you a late-night snack. I’m here to free you.’ His smile grew. ‘You can thank me later.’
I crammed more cheesy goodness into my mouth. Anything to avoid having to speak. Being rescued by Tarquin Villeneuve was almost more than I could bear.
‘The good news is we know where Hal Prescott is. He’ll be picked up before you can say “thank you very much, Tarquin darling”.’
I swallowed. ‘What? Where is he?’
Tarquin shook his head. ‘No, you say “thank you very much, Tarquin darling” first. I am your saviour after all.’
I wiped my greasy fingers on my jeans and stood up, ambled over to him and gazed at him through the bars. ‘Tarquin, if you don’t tell us exactly where Blackbeard is, or what is going on, I will reach through here and throttle you.’ I smiled pleasantly just to show I meant it.
He rolled his eyes. ‘You’re the one behind bars, Ivy. You’re the one who…’
Winter stood and walked up beside me. Tarquin’s voice faltered. ‘Fine,’ he snapped. ‘The investigation team did really well. They found a book in Blackbeard’s flat with a bookmark indicating that he is interested in Uffington. There’s an ancient drawing of a white horse cut into a hillside there which…’
I passed a hand over my eyes. For goodness’ sake. ‘Yeah, yeah. We know that. How do you know where Blackbeard himself is, though?’
‘Because the car registered in his name has been located at a small hotel on the outskirts of Uffington and he’s already checked in as a guest.’ Tarquin’s voice was smug. ‘We have the place surrounded. Blackbeard is ours.’ He rubbed his chin. ‘But I’ve suggested we rename him The Bearded Butcher. I think it will stick. It has a better ring to it than Blackbeard.’
‘Tarquin, wait. You know you can’t use magic against him, right?’
He scoffed. ‘Of course! We all know that. Armed police are going to do the heavy lifting. It’ll be the same team that brought you two in. They’re highly talented and more than ready to save the day. With our input, of course.’
‘“Our” referring to…?’
‘Me. Us. The Order.’ Tarquin’s expression was blank. ‘Who else?’
‘Who else indeed?’ Winter murmured.
‘Tarq,’ I said slowly, ‘this operation is taking place over a hundred miles away.’
He bobbed his head. ‘Yes.’
‘But instead of being there, you’re here.’
‘Everyone else is afraid of you. Once I’ve released you and completed the paperwork, I will be joining the others in Uffington.’
I scratched my head. ‘Hmmm. And how much paperwork is there?’
Winter leaned his head down towards me. ‘Oh, there will be a lot,’ he said. ‘And you have to take great care completing it. It has to be done by hand, you see.’
I smirked. ‘The Order does like everything shipshape and ticked off, don’t they? You’ll be sorting out that paperwork and crossing the Ts all night.’
‘It won’t take me that long!’ Tarquin said. ‘I’ll still have plenty of time to make it to Uffington to help with the final arrest. You two won’t. You’re forbidden from going anywhere near there.’
Whether Tarquin was being kept out of the way or not, that was unwelcome news. Winter stiffened and shoved his hands into pockets, probably so we couldn’t see his fists clenching. ‘What do you mean,’ he growled, ‘we’re forbidden?’
A slow grin spread across Tarquin’s face. It wasn’t exactly malicious; Tarquin was self-serving and wholly selfish but he didn’t take pleasure in others’ unhappiness per se, although he did seem to be getting a certain amount of perverse enjoyment out of this situation. I suspected that was because of my involvement rather than Winter’s.
‘Your reaction is not unexpected,’ he declared. He reached into his pocket and, with a dramatic flourish, produced a mobile phone. He hit dial then turned the phone onto speaker, holding it up so that we could both see the screen. Apparently, we were waiting for ‘Ippy’ to answer.
‘This is Ipsissimus Collings.’
‘Ipsissimus! This is Tarquin. I’m here with Raphael Winter and Ivy Wilde. They seem somewhat perturbed by the order to stay away from Uffington.’
‘Indeed,’ the Ipsissimus said, sounding entirely unsurprised. ‘Pass them the phone then piss off.’
Tarquin blinked. ‘But…’
‘Young man, you have a lot of paperwork to complete. You should probably make a start on it so you can finish it by morning.’