Spirit Witch

  ‘You were conceived there,’ George said, choosing not to hear a single word that Sophia had said. She briefly closed her eyes while Winter’s mouth dropped open. ‘We weren’t quite married at the time so we checked in as Mr and Mrs Smith. We thought we were being very clever.’ He glanced at me. ‘Those were the times we lived in. Things are much better for lovebirds like you two these days. It’s a very different world.’ His eyes dropped to my stomach. ‘When is your baby due?’

  Sophia gasped in horror while Winter began to cough. Even Brutus seemed to be laughing his feline head off. I didn’t smile, however; I just stared at him.

  ‘Didn’t mean to offend you,’ George said. A little voice in the back of my head told me he was telling the truth. Whatever. The chill was still descending down my spine as I thought about what he’d said.

  I reached into my pocket and took out my phone. Very slowly, I found the number I needed and held the phone to my ear. George glanced askance at Winter. ‘Is she calling a cab already? We’ve not even sat down to our starters and your mother’s got her famous Yorkshire puddings ready for the mains.’

  Winter finally managed to stop coughing. Something about my expression must have alerted him to the seriousness of the situation because he suddenly looked concerned. ‘Ivy?’ he asked.

  I shook my head at him as Tarquin answered. ‘Tarq,’ I said. ‘I need you to tell me one thing.’

  ‘Ivy, darling! How are you? Are you busy? Because I’m still trying to finish off that paperwork and there’s no movement yet with our murderer, so there might still be time for me to hoof it over there before the fireworks begin.’

  ‘Has anyone actually seen him?’

  ‘You mean Hal Prescott? No. Not since that initial sighting yesterday. He knows he’s under surveillance, though, and that he can’t go anywhere. The entire hotel is surrounded. He’s in his room. I think the bomb squad is preparing to go in but—’

  I interrupted him. ‘Under what name did he check into the hotel?’

  ‘Pardon?’

  I tapped my foot. Winter stilled completely and watched me. ‘The hotel in Uffington,’ I repeated. ‘What name did he register when he checked in?’

  ‘Hal Prescott, of course. What other name would he use?’

  I swallowed. ‘I need you to double check. Are you absolutely sure he used his real name?’

  ‘Yes,’ he said, sounding hurt. ‘I have the paperwork right here. He checked in yesterday morning at 11.32am. He…’

  I hung up the phone and looked at Winter. ‘Blackbeard is not in Uffington. If he was, he’d have used an assumed name like he did last time. He’s still a step ahead of us and he’s still toying with us. He’s set us up, Rafe. It’s the only explanation.’

  Winter’s blue eyes met mine. ‘If he’s not there, there’s only one place he’s likely to be.’

  I nodded. ‘The Order.’

  Winter made for the door. ‘Mum, Dad, thanks for the tea. We have to go.’

  ‘Come on, Brutus!’ I yelled, running after Winter. Given my limbs were still stiff and unyielding that wasn’t a particularly easy feat.

  Brutus let out a yowl. ‘Mouse!’

  It was our secret, pre-arranged signal designed to cause havoc and offer me an escape. His timing sucked. ‘Not now, Brutus!’ I yelled over my shoulder.

  There was a faint mutter, ‘Bitch,’ then he came careening out after us. We had to get back to Oxford. Right now.

  Chapter Nineteen

  While I drove, Winter called just about everyone he knew. Unfortunately half of his ex-colleagues were already in Uffington and had their phones turned off so they didn’t get distracted. The other half proved equally elusive. It seemed that no matter how hard Winter tried to reach them on the phone, they were screening his calls; he was either persona non grata or they were incredibly busy. Truthfully, either was possible. It was a requirement that all phones were checked in at the front of every Order building to avoid untoward accidents caused by magic and technology mixing when they shouldn’t. It was a highly unlikely scenario but, if they did mingle, the ensuing explosions and catastrophic disasters would make Blackbeard’s efforts to spread horror look like a five year old dressing up for Halloween.

  ‘Phone the Ipsissimus,’ I said, with my foot down to the floor. ‘If his phone is with him, he’ll take your call. He can’t wait for you to make up your mind and go back to the Order.’

  Winter’s mouth flattened. ‘He was the first person I tried.’

  Oh. Well, that sucked. I threw out names, one after another. Winter left messages all over the place but there wasn’t a soul picking up. When Eve didn’t answer, it was clear that everyone we knew in the Order was either at Uffington or buried in meetings. Winter even tried Tarquin. His phone rang but he didn’t pick up; that was probably my fault for hanging up on him mid-sentence earlier.

  It was clearly time to take drastic action. ‘Take my phone,’ I said. ‘Call Iqbal.’

  ‘He’s not in the Order, Ivy. He’s not even a witch.’

  ‘No,’ I said. ‘But he can get to the damn Order and find out what’s happening.’

  ‘Okay.’ Winter dialled and I waited with bated breath. When Winter started speaking, my body sagged with relief. Finally someone was answering their damned phone.

  ‘He’s in Manchester,’ Winter said. ‘He’s even further away than we are.’

  I let out a strangled scream. I never should have broken that bloody mirror. There had to be some way of contacting the bloody Order, even if we had to set signal fires or send out carrier pigeons. There had to be a bloody way.

  ‘Try the magic hotline,’ I said finally. ‘You’ll be able to get through to someone on that number.’ It was a helpline designed for non-witches to use when they required magical intervention. It was notoriously inefficient but we were running out of options.

  ‘Good idea.’ He nodded and found the number. After a moment or two, he swore violently.

  ‘What’s wrong?’

  He turned the phone onto speaker. A tinny voice chimed out: ‘…press three if you believe you have triggered an omen. Press four if you have discovered a family member has magical abilities. Press five if…’

  I passed a hand over my forehead. Good grief. ‘Screw that,’ I said. ‘Call the police. Tell them it’s an emergency and get them to the Order.’

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Winter’s expression grow even grimmer. ‘They won’t go. It won’t matter what I say to them, the police won’t interfere with anything that happens on Order grounds without direct orders from the Ipsissimus.’

  ‘So pretend to be him! He won’t mind! Not given the circumstances, anyway.’

  ‘There’s a code word. Only the Ipsissimus knows it.’

  Bloody hell. Order geeks didn’t half like making life difficult for themselves. Plonkers.

  Winter pressed nine. Apparently this was for emergencies, although a few beats later the same recorded voice happily informed us that we were thirteenth in the queue but that our call was being taken very seriously. The melody for I Put A Spell On You kicked into action.

  ‘Thirteenth,’ I muttered under my breath. ‘Of course we are.’

  Winter opened his mouth, ready to tell me yet again that my superstition fears were nonsense, but clearly thought better of if it. No wonder, given our current predicament. Instead, he switched subjects while I continued to speed back down the motorway towards Oxford. Three speed cameras had already flashed us; that wouldn’t go down well for my career as a taxi driver. I sighed. Whatever.

  ‘What made you check?’ he asked. ‘About what name he’d registered under at the hotel?’

  I ignored the angry gesture from the motorcyclist in the lane next to me as I overtook him and answered. ‘It was always too easy. It’s been niggling away at me that we know how clever Blackbeard is. We know what he’s achieved so far. Would he really allow himself to be surrounded by both police and witches?’ The heavy weight that had settled across my
shoulders when I hung up on Tarquin increased. ‘I should have thought of it earlier. I should have asked about it earlier.’

  ‘Less than twenty-four hours ago, you were lying unconscious on the floor of a pet crematorium. Not to mention the fact that you’re still recovering from Scotland.’

  ‘I can’t use either of those as an excuse.’

  Winter looked at me sternly. ‘This is not a one-man band, Ivy. It’s not even a duet. There are hundreds of people involved in this operation. It’s not your fault if we all believed he was in Uffington.’

  I bit my lip. ‘It feels like it is.’

  The taxi’s dashboard flashed an orange warning light. Arse. ‘We need petrol,’ I hissed in irritation.

  ‘There’s a service station coming up. Don’t worry,’ Winter said. ‘We’re getting closer to Oxford. We’ll be there soon.’

  ‘Let’s just hope it’ll be soon enough.’

  The song still chiming out of Winter’s phone came to an abrupt halt and the recorded voice broke in again. ‘Your call is very important to us. You are now number fourteen in the queue.’

  My knuckles turned white around the steering wheel. Throwing the phone out of the window would really not be helpful right now.

  I slowed down, indicating left to pull off the motorway. At least the service station wasn’t too busy and there wasn’t a queue at the fuel pumps. As soon as I stopped the taxi, I leapt out to fill it up. There were still another sixty miles to go until we reached Oxford and the Order Headquarters. It was barely midday on a Sunday; the roads would be quiet. But we had no idea what Blackbeard was planning, or when he was going to try and pull it off.

  From the other side of the forecourt, a man in top hat and tails raised a hand in greeting. I rolled my eyes and pretended not to see him I really didn’t have time for another damn ghost, not right now. They could have my full attention, such as it was, when Blackbeard was out of the way. Until then, they’d have to wait.

  ‘Coooeeee!’

  I stared at the pump, willing the numbers to move faster and for my tank to fill just that little bit quicker. Another twenty seconds and we’d be ready to go again. Come on. Come on.

  ‘You’re Ivy, right?’

  Tralalalalala. The petrol finally stopped flowing. I hastily re-hooked the hose and put the taxi’s fuel cap back on.

  ‘Hello?’

  I can’t hear you. I reached into my back pocket to pull out my purse to pay and strode towards the main booth.

  ‘Clare Rees asked me to find you.’

  Arse. I halted abruptly, causing the person behind me to smack into my back. I turned and glared at her, as if it were her fault that we’d collided, then looked at the ghost. ‘Is there a problem?’

  ‘No, no!’ he trilled. ‘Quite the opposite, in fact.’

  I gritted my teeth. If Clare had sent a fellow phantom here simply to say hello, I’d kill her whether she was a ghost already or not. ‘Then, why,’ I asked, ‘are you here?’

  ‘Well,’ he said, flipping his white silk scarf over his shoulder and considering the question, ‘I’m not entirely sure. I must say, I’m very glad to be here though. I perished on the Titanic so I could have ended up either in New York or here.’ He shuddered. ‘Or at the bottom of the ocean. Can you imagine having to haunt a bunch of fish for the rest of eternity?’

  I stared at him then I began to turn away. Sod this malarkey.

  ‘Oh,’ he said. ‘You mean here as in this place. Whatever it is. I’m looking for you because Clare Rees wants you to know that the rest of her coven have appeared.’

  I spun back round then immediately regretted it as I almost toppled over. I definitely needed a holiday to regain my equilibrium. I’d had three days’ hard graft. That was more than enough for this month. Or this year.

  ‘Ivy!’ Winter called from the car. He tapped his watch and I nodded to show I understood.

  ‘Give me a minute. Can you pay for the petrol? I need to talk to this guy.’ I gestured at the overdressed spectre.

  Unfortunately, a man who was most definitely not dead – but who looked like he had the sort of hangover that made you wish you were dead – passed in front of me and frowned blearily. ‘What? Were you at Jill’s party? Because what happened with that bush wasn’t my fault.’

  ‘I wasn’t talking to you,’ I said.

  He glanced over his shoulder. There was no one there apart from Mr Titanic who, of course, my new acquaintance couldn’t see.

  I rolled my eyes. ‘Just piss off.’ Politeness was all very well when you didn’t have dead people and mass murderers and potential Order destruction on your plate at the same time. I could see him thinking about retorting but in the end the hangover won out and he continued on his way. It was probably just as well.

  I returned my full attention to the ghost. ‘Where are they?’ I asked. ‘Where are the other coven members?’

  ‘Visiting their families, I believe.’ He sniffed. ‘The newly dead often find it hard to let go when they realise they’re no longer physically viable.’

  ‘I meant where are their remains?’

  His eyebrows lifted. ‘Oh yes. Apparently I’m to tell you that they’re in a hotel room in a place called Uffington. There’s a lot of activity going on outside. Something to do with magic? Or police?’ He shrugged. ‘I don’t really know.’

  My stomach sank. ‘Is that it?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  He bowed. ‘It was my pleasure, my dear. Toodle pip.’ He vanished.

  I returned to the car at the same time as Winter. ‘All paid,’ he said. ‘Was that another ghost?’

  I nodded grimly and told him what Mr Titanic had said. Winter’s expression grew even bleaker while his blue eyes darkened. ‘It’s confirmed then. They wouldn’t have appeared if Blackbeard was in the vicinity. His null nature would have prevented it. He’s definitely not in Uffington but he wants us to think he is.’

  I turned on the engine. I thought I’d been driving too fast before; that was nothing compared to what I was about to do.

  ***

  I half expected to arrive at the Order headquarters and find a scene of bloody carnage. We’d kept the radio on as we drove on the off-chance that a breaking news bulletin would tell us everything we didn’t want to know, but there was nothing. Abandoning all sense of propriety or sanity, I abandoned the taxi in the middle of the road and jumped out.

  ‘Stay with the car, Brutus,’ I ordered. This wasn’t the time to have him loose on a magical campus. We had enough to worry about as it was. Fortunately, he simply yawned in response and curled up to sleep in the back seat. Thank goodness for small mercies.

  Focusing on the nearest group of witches, I grabbed a red-robed Neophyte and pulled her to the side before shaking her. ‘What’s going on? What’s wrong?’

  ‘Huh?’

  ‘Have you seen a man with a black beard and a bald head anywhere near here?’

  Her jaw hung gormlessly as she tried to work out who I was and what I really wanted. The relief on her face when she spotted Winter was almost palpable. ‘Adeptus Exemptus!’

  ‘Ivy,’ Winter said, ‘let go of the innocent Neophyte. She clearly doesn’t know anything.’ I bared my teeth and she jumped but I did as he asked. ‘I’m sorry,’ Winter continued with a professional smile. Now we were back at the Order, he’d automatically slipped back into serious witch mode.

  She gave him a fawning glance as if he’d just rescued her from a wildebeest. ‘I’m Lily. You won’t remember me,’ she said, ‘but we’ve met before. It was only once during orientation, and there were lots of other Neophytes in the same group, but it was a real honour for me.’

  Winter smiled. ‘Lily, of course I remember. You’re the girl from Devon who likes fish and is looking forward to learning more about herblore.’

  Her cheeks turned bright pink. Damn him and his almost perfect memory. I tapped my foot impatiently. Did we seriously have time for this crap?

&nbsp
; ‘Tell me, Lily,’ Winter said, leaning in towards her. ‘Have you noticed anything out of the ordinary about the Order today? It’s very important. Anything you’ve seen will be helpful.’

  ‘Uh…’ She blinked rapidly, obviously desperate to help her hero. ‘There are a lot of Arcane Branch witches absent.’

  Winter nodded quickly. ‘Anything else?’

  Her brow furrowed as she tried to think. This was a waste of time. ‘The cafeteria in the north quarter has green jelly instead of red. I don’t know why.’

  I huffed and rolled my eyes. They ignored me.

  ‘And have you seen the man Ivy described? He’s quite distinctive. A very large build, a big bushy black beard, and an earring with a skull in it.’

  She desperately wanted to say yes but in the end she felt compelled to tell the truth. ‘No.’

  ‘How about your friends over there?’ he asked gently, pointing towards the rest of the Neophytes who were goggling at us.

  ‘I’ll go ask.’ She turned tail and jogged away.

  ‘You can stop that,’ Winter said to me in an undertone. ‘I learnt those skills from you.’

  ‘Skills?’ I scoffed. ‘Getting young women to all but drop their knickers at one flash of your baby blues? That’s not one of my skills.’

  ‘I meant being nice to people to get them to tell us what they know.’

  I crossed my arms. ‘I don’t think Lily knows anything.’

  ‘Wide-eyed Neophytes have wide eyes. They see more than you think.’ He gestured around. ‘There’s nothing wrong here. No one is screaming. There is no blood.’

  ‘Just because Blackbeard’s not acted yet doesn’t mean he won’t.’

  ‘I know that.’ Winter touched my arm. ‘Don’t let the stress get to you.’

  My mouth twitched, ready to continue arguing, but I forced myself to relax. Winter was right: I’d been so worked up about what we were going to see when we arrived that seeing nothing had amped up the pressure inside me. I breathed out. Breathing was good.