It was hard to see at first, but once his eyes had adjusted to the dim light, he caught the outline of a human figure. A female figure with a decidedly angry looking face. The kind of face that looked permanently cranky.
“Hey!” Tim called as she attempted to brush past him.
“Get out of my way,” she spat at him.
Tim didn’t budge. “That’s not very polite now, is it?” He grabbed hold of her arm.
“Get off me,” she snarled, wiggling her arm to try and shrug him off.
“No, not until you tell me where you were going.”
The woman stamped her foot on the concrete stair. “Let me go! This is assault.”
Tim smiled. “Well, call the police!” Tim considered letting her go until he realized she looked vaguely familiar. He had to get a better view.
After glancing around and scouring his surroundings for a light switch, he spotted one at the top of the first flight of stairs. “Come on, this way.” He grabbed hold of her wrist and led her up the stairs.
“Where are you are you taking me?!”
The light came flooding around them. Tim looked at her closely and gasped. “Come on.”
“What? Where are you taking me?” she demanded again.
“Back the way you’ve just come, no doubt.”
He dragged her kicking and screaming back into the flat.
Chapter Sixteen
McMillan’s Flat, Market Square, Bicester
When Timreached flat 2B with Vixen, he found the door was slightly ajar.
Tim looked over his shoulder and grinned. “You must have forgotten to close it on your way out.”
Vixen scowled at him and hung her head.
He nudged the door, led her inside, and then swung his arm back to shut it with a bang. “Hello?”
Scarlett’s elbows felt like metal rods digging into her thighs as she lifted her head from her hands. “Tim?”
All eyes turned to watch her run past Cliff to the door. “Tim. It is you! I thought as much. What are you doing here?”
He grinned. “I believe you lost something—or someone.”
“Yes, Vixen—honestly, she’s a right nasty—”
Vixen coughed.
“Piece of work. I was going to say, nasty piece of work. Well, whatever. Come on, come in.”
Scarlett could hear Vixen mumbling to herself about it being her boyfriend’s flat as she led them to the living room. Tim took a wooden chair from the dining table and told Vixen to sit. She stomped her way across the room, mumbling and cursing under her breath.
“I see you’ve met Vixen then?” Tabitha said, looking at Tim, who had made himself comfortable in an armchair.
Tim nodded. “Found her running down the stairs. I recognized her face from the records.”
Vixen coughed. “Hello, I am still here you know!”
No one spoke or turned to acknowledge her.
Tarquin leaned forward to take the floor. “So the question now is, what are we going to do about her?”
A bout of mumbling spread through the living room, coming to a halt when Vixen gave a loud and exaggerated cough. “Hello!”
Tim rose to his feet. “One minute.” He walked to the corner of the room, dragged Vixen to her feet and took her to the bedroom. Everyone listened from the living room as she cursed and threatened him with all kinds of depraved acts.
The raised voices silenced and Tim reappeared, clapping and rubbing his hands together. “Sorry about that little distraction,” he said, resuming his place in the armchair.
Scarlett looked at him curiously.
“What did you do?”
“Just stuck her in the closet with a chair in front of it,” Tim said cheerily.
Cliff snorted audibly.
Turning to the rest of the group, Tarquin declared, “well, we need to figure out what to do with our friend in the bedroom.”
Raven was the first to reply. “Well, she did it, didn’t she? Let’s take her to the police, let them do their job. They can lock her in a cell and throw away the key, for all I care.”
Scarlett pursed her lips. “Yes, she did do it and we all know that. But, how are we going to convince the police? Are we going to say we conducted a spell and saw back in time? They’d laugh us out of town.”
Tabitha nodded. “Well, you’re right about that.”
“And something else. Right now, as we speak, they think that Raven is the guilty party. She is the missing girlfriend after all.”
“Well, we’re going to have a job on convincing them,” said Tabitha. “But, I’m sure we can do it.” She paused to give it a moment’s thought. “We just have to find a way.”
Roughly five minutes of silence followed as everyone struggled to come up with a credible idea. It was Tim that spoke first. “May I make a suggestion?”
Tabitha nodded. “Go ahead. Please do.”
“I could put her in the back of the car and take her to the military facility.”
Tabitha looked unsure. “Would that work? Could you just take her in unannounced?”
“Well, I‘d have to do a bit of fixing first, but no, it shouldn’t be a problem.”
Raven grinned. “So what will happen once she gets there?”
“She’ll be assessed and then taken upstairs. You know how it works.”
“She’ll be given the treatment they gave me and Ronnie?” asked Raven. “With the cells and the cattle prods?”
Tim frowned, glancing uncomfortably at the other witches in the room. “Well, at first. Ultimately, we have very specific protocols for what we do with witches…” He trailed off purposefully.
Raven grinned. “Brilliant! Sounds perfectly reasonable to me.”
Up until that point, Scarlett had never once imagined that Raven might be out for revenge herself. “I have heard a few stories about cats having long memories when it comes to revenge.”
Everyone laughed, except Raven, who just shook her head and sat down on the floor in front of her.
Placing her hand on Raven’s head, a thought turned Scarlett’s expression solemn. “Okay, joking aside, there’s a serious point to be considered here.”
Tarquin looked at her quizzically. “What’s that?”
“I just think there’s a bit of a moral dilemma here. Is it right to forge some paperwork and have her subjected to a whole load of depraved acts, just because it suits us?”
Raven stood up. “Well, I have no problem with that. Suits me fine.”
Tarquin echoed Scarlett’s words. “I think Scarlett has a point here. Even though we all know she’s guilty, is it right to put her through all this? Even criminals have rights.” He paused for moment and sighed. “Although it is unfortunate for Vixen, ultimately, I don’t think we have much choice. She is a murderer after all and this is a small injustice compared to having Raven be punished for something she didn’t do.”
She shook her head. “I disagree. I won’t allow it to happen.” Though Scarlett valued her friends more than anything, she felt a sense of justice burn brightly inside her. Something told her that if they went ahead with this, and she didn’t do her utmost to stop them, she wouldn’t be able to live with herself for a long time.
On the other hand, she’d come to think of Raven as a close friend and she’d done everything within her powers to convince people of her innocence. She’d stood by her, despite the mountain of evidence that had stacked up against her. She’d maintained her faith in her friend, even when everyone else had begun to doubt her. If she didn’t stand by her now, then what was it all for? Would a true friend go to such lengths to prove someone’s innocence, only to back out when the going got tough?
It was a face-off between her loyalty to her friends and her belief that justice should be served no matter what. The question was, which of these underlying beliefs meant the most to her?
Raven brushed against the side of Scarlett’s leg. “Come on Scarlett, don’t back out now. Not after everything you went through to prove
my innocence.”
Scarlett continued to stare at the floor, deep in thought.
Raven persisted. “You know me, Scarlett. You know that I’m fundamentally a good person. Can you say the same about Vixen?”
“Justice doesn’t care about who is the nicest person. First impressions can be deceptive,” Scarlett said matter-of-factly.
Tim nodded. “First impressions are usually deceptive.”
Raven scampered back to the other side of the room. “This is a conspiracy, that’s what this is.”
Tarquin spoke up. “I think Raven’s right. I think we should let Tim take care of it.”
Scarlett gasped. “Well, I‘m surprised at you, Tarquin. And here’s me thinking you were a man of principle.”
“I am a man of principle, Scarlett, but… ”
Scarlett submerged herself into her own internal battle. Her friends were all certain that they should turn Vixen in, and she really didn’t want to go against them. Nor did she want to be the one that would be, ultimately, responsible for sending Raven to prison.
Loyalty was a big part of her, something she’d always prided herself in. If she went against Raven now, something about her would be forever different. She might even end up an outcast, without any friends at all.
The trouble was, her sense of justice was just as important to her. If she pushed it conveniently to one side, she might still have her friends, but she wouldn’t be the same person. She might end up hating herself.
It was obvious that something had to give. The question was, which of the two alternatives was going to be the least damaging?
The talking stopped, allowing Tabitha to make another contribution. “There is something else that no one’s thought of. Something that’s been overlooked.”
Tarquin leaned forward. “What’s that?”
“Vixen is a witch. A pretty powerful one too, by all accounts. So even if you were to lock her up, there’s no guarantee that you’ll be able to contain her. And when she gets out, she’ll be after her revenge. On us all.”
Tim looked at her. “But she’ll be in a secure cage, designed for people like her. Surely it will be able to hold her.”
Tabitha shook her head dismissively. “No, I don’t think you’ll be able to stop her breaking out, no matter how secure the cage is. Not long term.”
Another round of intense thought followed, while everyone tried to think of yet another solution to their problem. Scarlett, however, had her own agenda to sort out first. Vixen was a witch. A nasty, twisted one, at that. She could do all kinds of damage to a whole bunch of people. She might even be practicing black magic.
If Vixen was behind bars they’d be eliminating a risk to the public at large, but Scarlett remained unconvinced that any cage would even hold her. If she was going to succeed in persuading the others though, she was going to have to come up with a credible alternative of her own.
With the issue finally sorted in her mind, Scarlett moved on to the question of how best to contain her. “Can’t we use another spell? To stop her running off and making a nuisance of herself?”
Tabitha looked up, then smiled wearily at Tarquin. “A spell? Another one? Well, I suppose we could give it a try.” She shot another glance at Tarquin who placed his hand on her arm. She smiled at him. “Tarquin, what do you think? Do you have the strength for one more?”
Tarquin nodded. “I’ll need some time, I’m rather drained.”
Tabitha sighed. “Me too, old friend, let’s give it a go in a little while.”
For a moment there was silence. Noticing the way everyone appeared to be deep in thought, Scarlett observed that Tim looked like he had something a bit more specific on his mind. “Tim, you okay?”
“What? Me? Oh yes, you know—just thinking things through.”
She nodded. “I think we all were. You look like there’s something specific on your mind, though.”
“Do I?”
“Yes, you do.”
“Oh, well, there’s no pulling the wool over your eyes, Scarlett Slater, is there?”
She smiled, but said nothing, waiting for him to continue.
“Whatever we tell them, the police are going to take a lot of convincing to take our story seriously. I was just trying to work out how I was going to present our case.”
Scarlett liked the way he said our case, like he’d been fully amalgamated into the group. “I’m sure you’ll find a way. You always do.”
Tim got to his feet. “I’ve just got to go back to my car and make an important phone call. You don’t need me here right now anyway, do you?”
Tabitha shook her head. “No, you go on, Tim. Make your call.”
Tim left the flat and hurried down the stairs to the main door. For some reason, despite everything he’d seen and done over the course of his work, he found this building creepy. The dark, humid air clung to his face as he raced down towards the exit.
The door swung open and the cold air engulfed him. In no time at all, the humidity was but a distant memory. Walking across to his car, he felt the need to rub his shoulders several times.
The thud of the car door was still reverberating when he extracted his phone from his inside pocket. Phone in hand, and without any external pressure, he gave the matter a moment’s thought.
He was about to phone his superiors and tell them a story for which he had absolutely no concrete evidence. At least nothing he could show them. The only thing he had to go on was his gut instinct, which, despite everything he’d learned, was telling him that Raven was innocent. The problem was, his superiors wouldn’t see it like that. If he just spun them a yarn, which, essentially, was what he was about to do, in the end, it would resurface. He’d have to be at his very best to pull this one off. Perhaps the best he’d ever been.
The question for Tim, therefore, was could he make a convincing case relying on his charm and powers of persuasion alone? Because if he couldn’t, there was no point in making the call. He’d have to pull off a flawless performance.
He looked through the side window at the outline of the moon and the sinking sun. By the time the moon had won the battle for supremacy, he would be back in the flat, waiting for the police or even pitching his case to them, hoping he could convince them to take the theory seriously.
Of course, if he had the civilian police handle this, that would mean one less creature in the Moseley torture chambers of the special facility. He’d have to take his chances. And who knows, maybe Tabitha and Tarquin can do some kind of binding spell to keep her behind bars.
Hi hit send on his phone. It rang a few times before someone responded.
“Hello?”
“Hello, this is Flight Lieutenant Clarke.”
“Good evening, sir.”
“Could you put me through to Wing Commander Gregory’s office please?”
“One moment.”
The line crackled then started to ring. “Hello, Gregory here.”
“It’s Tim.”
“Tim, good to hear from you at last. Was just about to start filing a missing persons report.” He chuckled.
“No, no. I’ve been following a line of investigation, sir. I could do with some police presence.”
“Oh, I see. Well, I don’t suppose there’ll be a problem there.”
“It’s very imp—”
“No, no, I’ll take your word for it.”
Tim felt a rush of self-confidence.
“Give me the address and I’ll send some of the boys ‘round straight away.”
“Very good, sir. Got a pen?”
“Yes. Go on, fire away.”
Tim gave him the address.
“Right, you stay put. I’ll get them to come out right away. Should be no more than ten minutes, tops.”
“Very good, sir. Thank you.”
“Not a problem, Clarke. Not a problem.”
Chapter Seventeen
McMillan’s Flat, Market Square, Bicester
They all sat in silence for a
minute, listening to Tim’s footsteps descend the stairs. Tarquin was the first to speak. “So, what does everyone make of that? It looks like, finally, the situation could be drawing to a close.”
Tabitha looked at him, smiling. “And not a moment too soon.”
Something was bothering Scarlett. She felt like they’d uncovered the surface of the crime, but the foundations were still unresolved. If they didn’t go about this properly, it might come back to bite them in the end. “Just one thing,” she said, glancing at each of them in turn. “How did the military get hold of Raven in the first place?”
Tarquin stroked his chin. “Good point. I think everyone had overlooked that little mystery.”
Everyone nodded in agreement. All except Raven, who shook her head and said, “That’s a mystery to me too.”
Scarlett rose to her feet. “I’ve had an idea.”
Everyone focused on her, waiting to be enlightened.
“Let’s get Vixen in here. See what she knows.”
Raven grinned and sprung to life. “Great idea.” She headed towards the door.
Cliff stood up to follow her. “No, Raven. Come back. I’ll go. I think you’re a bit too—involved and besides, she looks like she has a nasty streak in her.”
Raven turned around and returned to the living room. “You can say that again, Cliff.”
Scarlett tried to picture the scene as she waited, just in case things turned nasty. She tried to get into Cliff’s mind to work out what he would do to defend himself, how he would react if Vixen flew at him, scratching, biting, hissing, and digging her nails into his face. He would most likely fend her off, letting her cut his hands to ribbons as he pushed her onto the bed. But then he might turn his back on her and—
The bedroom door flew open and they all turned toward the source of the commotion. In no time at all, Cliff appeared at the doorway dragging Vixen along with him. “Come on, get in here.” He looked about as close to losing his temper as Scarlett had ever seen him.
Cliff led Vixen to the center of the room, told her to sit and urged everyone to move their chairs around her.
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