by Helen Harper
He shook his large head. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘But I can’t trust that you’re telling the truth.’
‘You know I’m not a witch,’ I pleaded. ‘You know from my ID that I’m just a taxi driver. I don’t know what else I can do to prove that I’m not like them.’
‘Tough. I’ve already let you escape once. I was kind then but I can’t afford to be kind now. You had your chance.’
I sagged. ‘Fine,’ I whispered. ‘In truth, anything will be better than remaining here with these bastards. But … are we the same? Do we hate them in the same way? Is that why you’re killing them?’ I kept my head low and subdued my body language. I was already defeated; I was already prepared to die.
‘All witches are evil. All witches are unnatural.’ Blackbeard said the words as if by rote. He’d been taught to believe this. More fool him.
‘Why did you kill the coven?’ I asked. ‘Why not come straight here first? Raphael, the witch I was with on Dartmoor? He learned about you because you destroyed that coven. Without their deaths, no one would have known you existed. Why them?’
He gave me a blank look. ‘They were there and I needed the practice. I had to know if I was capable of murder. Not everyone is.’ He rubbed his ear where Eve had bitten it, then pulled his hands away and gazed at the blood as if seeing it for the first time. ‘It’s a lot easier than I thought it would be. I knew that having ended them, I could end anyone.’ He raised his massive shoulders in a shrug, as if surprised by himself and his ability to kill, in the same way that I would be surprised if I discovered some money wedged underneath a sofa cushion. ‘How did the witch find out about them anyway?’
Ah ha. Maybe I’d piqued his curiosity. A glimmer of hope rippled through me. I had to manage this properly; I had to give a good enough answer to keep him talking. The closer I stayed to the truth, the more believable I’d be. ‘I told you. Some kind of black magic. I think…’ I hesitated. ‘I think he’s been talking to corpses and they talk back.’
‘Unnatural,’ Blackbeard muttered.
Tell me about it. ‘Why didn’t you just burn all their bodies at once? Why not get rid of them in one go?’
He checked his watch. ‘How many questions are you planning on asking?’ His voice wasn’t irritated, just curious as if he wanted to be sure he could adjust his schedule if necessary. At that point I realised that he wanted to talk; he was desperate to share his exploits with someone who would listen. He’d spent so long hiding his actions that all he wanted to do now was to spill his secrets to the world. And the more I could delay him, the better chance I had.
‘Only a few more,’ I said. ‘I just want to understand.’
He nodded. ‘Well,’ he said, ‘it’s kind of hard to burn seven bodies in one go. They don’t burn quickly and I had limited time each night to do it. I had to keep them in my flat until I could transport them to the crematorium without anyone noticing. And the longer I had to wait, the more I realised I enjoyed it.’ He bared his teeth. ‘Anticipation is a wonderful thing. It’s usually a greater pleasure than the end result. So I drew out disposing of the ashes in the same way.’ He smiled. Chillingly, it was a genuine smile, filled with joy. ‘It was a lot of fun. And each time I got rid of the ash, the feeling built up here.’ He thumped his chest. ‘The need. The desire.’
‘The desire to kill?’
His eyes glowed. He thought I understood, that I ‘got’ him. I’d get him alright, just not in the way he thought. ‘That’s it exactly.’
‘You planned everything so well,’ I said. ‘The secret room in your flat was a stroke of genius.’
‘I had to be in control, to make sure that when those bastards came after me they did it on my terms. Not on theirs.’ His face twisted. ‘This was Plan B, though. Plan A was even better but I had to change it because of you. You knew I’d killed that coven so I had to alter everything.’
I tried to keep my expression blank. All those media embargoes and all that tiptoeing around – and I’d already given the game away when I met Blackbeard in the pub car park. Eve was unconscious. Perhaps I’d manage to keep that little titbit to myself.
‘Uh, sorry,’ I stammered.
He shrugged. ‘It’s good to be tested. And I always had my Plan B ready. That’s why I had that fake glass wall made. I wasn’t sure anyone would be smart enough to spot it was a fake but I hoped they would. Then they’d follow my fake trail and I’d be safe to do what I wanted.’ He gestured round. ‘As you see.’
‘Fake glass?’ I asked. ‘Not mirror?’
‘Real mirrored glass is costly and difficult to break.’ He stroked his beard. ‘The stuff I had was the same as they use in films for actors so they don’t get hurt when they jump through windows.’ He sounded very proud.
If it wasn’t a real mirror that I’d broken in Blackbeard’s flat, I didn’t have seven years’ bad luck coming my way. This day was looking better and better. ‘Thanks,’ I said, meaning it. ‘I appreciate knowing that.’
‘You’re welcome.’
A mass murderer with manners. I swallowed. ‘There is one thing I should mention,’ I said. ‘One thing that leaves you a little bit screwed.’
He raised his black, bushy eyebrows. ‘What’s that?’
‘I lied. I’m a witch.’ I smiled. ‘I’m a witchy witch with witch blood running through my veins and magic in my soul.’
Apparently I was a better liar than I thought. ‘No, you’re not,’ Blackbeard said. ‘If you were a witch, you’d have tried to bespell me the first time we met.’
It was my turn to shrug. ‘I had my reasons for avoiding magic back then. And I have to avoid it now, of course, because it won’t affect you. This will though.’ And I reached up with both hands and yanked on his beard as hard as I could.
He screamed: apparently trying to rip off someone’s chin really hurts. I held on with left hand, avoiding the swinging knife, and let go with my right hand so I could reach upwards. I jabbed two fingers into his eyes, jamming them into his eye sockets. I didn’t blind him permanently – he jerked away too quickly for that – but he wouldn’t be able to see much for the next few minutes. There was still hope.
He flailed around, still clinging on to that damned blade. Until I got him to drop it, we were all in danger. I danced round, lunging for his hands and trying to grab the knife handle so I could wrestle it from him. Blinded as he was, he still worked out what I was doing and slashed the weapon at me again, this time managing to cut my cheek. I yelped. Then Blackbeard’s free hand snaked out, grabbed a hank of my hair and dragged me over.
‘You little bitch,’ he hissed. ‘You thought you could fool me? You thought you could best me? I might well die this day but I’m going to take you with me. And as many of your little witch friends as I can manage.’
There was a loud thud. For a moment, Blackbeard stood stock still then he keeled over, knocking me to the ground in the process. Behind him stood Tarquin, holding a bloodied rock in both hands.
‘I did it,’ he breathed. ‘I’m a hero.’ He looked at me with what was supposed to be a disarming smile. ‘I saved your life and saved the day.’
Arsing hell. I scrambled away from both Blackbeard and Tarquin and rolled over. Maybe that damned glass had been a real mirror after all.
‘I saved everyone!’ Tarquin shouted. ‘I killed the serial killer!’
I lay on my back, panting like a dog. From the wall of the crèche, I heard Eve groan. ‘What the hell?’ she said. ‘What happened?’
‘I won!’ Tarquin shouted. ‘I’m the best!’
Warm, sticky blood coated my skin where Blackbeard had cut me but I could already feel it congealing. I was going to live. More importantly, so would everyone else. Although maybe I could still grab hold of Blackbeard’s knife and slide it into Tarquin’s ribs when no one was looking.
A shadow fell across my face and I squinted upwards. When I saw Winter’s familiar sapphire eyes frowning down at me, I gave him as wide a grin as I could man
age. ‘Ipsissimus Winter,’ I said. ‘How lovely to see you. I would get up but I’m not sure my legs can hold my weight.’
He put his hands on his hips. ‘You bloody idiot. What the hell did you think you were doing taking on Blackbeard single-handed?’
‘Eve helped. I wasn’t on my own.’ From the side, Tarquin continued to crow. ‘Besides, the real hero is over there.’
Winter rolled his eyes and snorted. ‘Dragging Eve into your foolish schemes is not likely to help your cause. At the rate you keep flinging yourself into danger’s path, I’m going to have tie you up to keep you out of harm’s way.’
‘I’m sure we’ve had this conversation before,’ I said. ‘I quite like being tied up. You must have spotted my furry handcuffs by now, Rafe.’ I wasn’t lying; it was a lot of fun abandoning yourself to someone else. Especially if they were Raphael Winter and they were going to do all the hard work. So to speak.
Winter sighed but there was a glint in his eyes at my words. Then he looked around soberly. ‘You shouldn’t have done this. It’s not your job to save me, Ivy.’
‘It wasn’t Ivy who saved you. It was me!’
Before Tarquin received a sharp slap, someone had the sense to pull him away. I breathed out and raised myself onto my elbows. ‘Someone’s got to try and rescue you, Rafe. Especially with all these young witch women throwing themselves at you like you’re some kind of rock hero. I need to stamp my mark. Unfortunately, Tarquin beat me to it.’
A look of exasperation crossed Winter’s face. ‘Can you stand up?’
I pretended to make the effort. ‘Oh,’ I groaned. ‘I don’t think so. You’ll have to carry me.’
‘Fireman’s lift it is, then.’
Whoa. ‘I’m getting up! Bloody hell.’ I used his hand to bring myself upright. Then I looked around; there was a great deal of blood. And mess. ‘The Order aren’t going to bill me for this, are they?’
‘Don’t worry,’ he said drily. ‘We have insurance.’
Just as well. I stumbled slightly, falling against him. Maybe I did need some help. ‘Ipsissimus Collings,’ I began.
‘We’ve found him.’ Winter’s voice was grim. ‘He put up a hell of a fight.’
I bit the inside of my cheek to keep the tears at bay. It almost worked. ‘He was a good man.’
Winter nodded. He didn’t say anything but I knew it was only because he couldn’t trust himself to speak. I put a hand on his arm and squeezed.
The air in front of me shimmered and Clare’s face appeared, although it was remarkably transparent. Just like Ipsissimus Collings before her, she was already being called away. Her time here was up. Funnily enough, she didn’t look in the least bit sorry about it.
‘Thank you, Ivy.’ She turned her face and glanced away as if someone was shouting her name. A smile spread across her face. ‘I have to go but I had to say thank you. All of us thank you.’
‘You’re very welcome,’ I whispered. ‘I’ll make sure no one forgets you or the rest of your coven.’
She blew me a kiss then there was the now familiar flash of bright light. The witches around us gasped. Even Tarquin fell momentarily silent.
‘And just like that,’ I said quietly, ‘she was gone.’
There was a loud snort. ‘How many times do I have to tell you, woman? There’s a queue! We need to be orderly about this!’
I smiled at Ipsissimus Grenville. ‘Would you like me to help you now? You can pass over next. You’ve been here for long enough.’
His eyes widened fractionally then he wrung his hands and looked away. ‘I would like that.’ He sighed. ‘But I will stay until all the others are taken care of.’
I raised an eyebrow. ‘All of them? That could take years.’
‘Yes.’ He nodded to himself. ‘But you’ll do it. We both know you will. I have full trust in you.’ I blinked. ‘Besides,’ he continued, ‘you’ll probably need my help.’
‘You’re not going to let me get any peace, are you?’
Grenville roared. ‘My dear! Peace is for wimps!’
‘I’m a wimp,’ I pointed out.
Winter pressed his lips against my temple. ‘No, you’re not.’
‘I’m not like you,’ I protested. ‘I’m not even like Tarquin.’
‘Thank goodness,’ he murmured. ‘Besides, we all know you’re much better.’
Arse. At this rate everyone would know all of my secrets. I’d have to work harder at being lazier. Much, much harder.
Epilogue
There was a shaft of sunlight hitting the bedroom floor. At this time of day, Brutus always found it something of a dilemma. Was it better to lie in the shade but on the comfort of the bed, or to lie in the sun but on the hardness of the floor? Both spots had a lot of merit and it was a difficult choice. However, this was the sort of problem he enjoyed toying with; lately, there had been challenges of far larger import – none of which he had appreciated in the slightest.
He’d just about made the decision to choose the sunshine when the door opened and a witch walked in. Excellent. Brutus immediately flopped onto his back and rolled around in the manner that humans seemed to adore. The witch crouched down and gave him a fuss, just as Brutus wanted. He could definitely get used to this kind of lifestyle. The more minions at his beck and call, the better.
Then the witch went back to the door and heaved in a vacuum monster. Brutus shot a wistful glance at the sunbeam and skedaddled. Ivy might enjoy someone else cleaning the house on a daily basis but did they have to do it every damn day? He missed having dust bunnies to chase after, and he was no match for the vacuum monster, much as he tried to kill it when it was sleeping in the cupboard.
With some regret, Brutus abandoned the bedroom and padded off in search of another place. He was tempted to head for the garden; not only would there be plenty more sunny warm spots where he could curl up, there might be the added bonus of birds. He was feeling slightly peckish. Unfortunately, he was also fairly certain that he’d seen Princess Parma Periwinkle stroll in that direction. That was all very well but if she was running an errand for the man, she’d no doubt try to draw him into her plans.
Brutus had long since decided that work was a beast better left to others. There was a reason he had attached himself to Ivy, after all. It had taken a lot of training to make her even remotely adequate as his witch, and she still had a long way to go, but Brutus remained optimistic. If he couldn’t claw her into shape, no one could.
He wound away from the residence and out towards the main Order buildings. There was always fun to be had with the red robes. Initially he’d considered demanding a diamond-studded collar so that everyone would know who he was but collars tended to chafe. Anyway, within three days everyone knew him. If you wanted to remain scratch free, you either carried fishy treats or you stayed far away from Brutus – unless you were particularly dumb. Some humans couldn’t be trained, no matter how hard you tried. The floppy-yellow-haired one heading towards him right now was a case in point.
‘Brutus!’ Tarquin nudged his companion, who was already doing the smart thing and backing away. ‘You know whose familiar this is, of course. We were childhood sweethearts but I was bit too much for her. She couldn’t keep up with my pace so we decided to split up. She was upset about it, of course, Cried for weeks, but it was for the best. There are no hard feelings on my part. I even saved her life when I saved the Order. Between you and me, she’d leave Ipsissimus Winter in a heartbeat if I told her I’d take her back but I wouldn’t do that to him. That’s the kind of good guy I am.’
Tarquin crouched down. Brutus purred and knocked against his hands then leapt up into his arms. It was only when Tarquin had straightened back up again with an overly wide smile that Brutus acted, slashing out one paw and scratching him across his eyelid. Tarquin shrieked and dropped him. ‘You little furry bastard!’
‘You big slimy bitch,’ Brutus answered. He flicked his tail and continued on his way.
He paused in front of the libr
ary, debating whether to enter. The skinny, nervous one was quite adept at petting, not that you’d expect it to look at him, but he often got distracted by witches asking questions or by old books which caught his eye. Brutus liked the man but he wasn’t playing second fiddle to a pile of papers. Not for anyone.
In the end, he continued towards the study. The man would be delighted to see him. One day those other witches would create a warding spell that would keep Brutus out – but Brutus doubted that day would be today.
***
When he reached the man’s office, the door was closed. Brutus sniffed. Doors were made to be open; that was their raison d’être. Fortunately this one did its job, swinging backwards so that the tall, fit female could exit.
‘Thank you, Eve,’ the man said. ‘Will you be round later for dinner?’
She paused at the threshold. ‘Is Ivy cooking?’
There was a faint snort. ‘No.’
‘I could cook if I wanted to!’ Ivy yelled. ‘I have a microwave, you know. I’m just not going to be cooking tonight.’
Eve smiled. ‘Then, yes, I’d love to pop round.’ She glanced down. ‘Hey Brutus.’ She reached down and scratched him under his chin then sneaked a hand into her pocket and pulled out a crunchy biscuit. She placed her finger to her lips and Brutus nodded. He wasn’t an idiot; he was far more likely to get treats from others if he didn’t boast about the ones he’d already had. He snaffled it surreptitiously then made his way in.
Goody. The computer was on. Since becoming Ipsissimus, the man had designated certain areas to be magic free so that technology could be utilised and the Order could become more efficient. There had been some grumblings but the zones were clearly demarcated and there had been no explosions of any sort. Bit by bit, even the worst of the naysayers were beginning to admit that the new blood and new ideas which Ipsissimus Winter brought to the Order could be advantageous. Brutus thoroughly agreed; he leapt onto the desk and sat down on the keyboard. It was always warm and tingly, even if it did make an annoying beeping sound when he jumped onto it.