Star Witch

  Barry’s shoulders drooped. ‘That’s the million-dollar question. Certainly not this series. Not now. Preparations are already underway to ship this lot of contestants home. The only silver lining is that they’ve all signed binding non-disclosure agreements.’ He raised his eyebrows meaningfully at me as he said this. I shrugged. I was probably going to be a corpse in a few hours so what did it matter? I’d tell the devil if I saw him. I doubted he’d care.

  ‘Give me your car keys,’ I said, without further preamble.

  Barry reached into his pocket, automatically doing as I’d instructed. Then he paused. ‘Hang on. Why should I do that?’

  ‘Because you were my producer, Barry. You were supposed to be looking out for me and I almost died.’ That was something of an exaggeration but I needed transport.

  ‘Are you going to give them back?’

  ‘Sure.’ I couldn’t have sounded less convincing.

  Amy nudged Barry and he exhaled resignedly. ‘Fine. Here you go.’

  ‘Great. I need my phone back too.’

  ‘It’s in our room with the rest of your things,’ Amy said. ‘I took them all back after…’ She swallowed.

  ‘Thanks. One final thing – has anyone seen Armstrong?’

  Moonbeam let out a humourless smirk. ‘He got back just before you did. You walked right by him.’ He pointed over to the bar.

  I followed his finger. Slumped in the corner was the familiar figure of Enchantment’s director. He no longer looked despotic or even fully conscious. The best word I could think of to describe him was crumpled. I’d have felt some sympathy for him if I could have found the time.

  ‘Thanks,’ I muttered, pocketing the keys. ‘I’m going out for a few hours. Amy, if I’m not back by the time dawn breaks, call this number.’ I scribbled down the Ipsissimus’s direct line onto a napkin. ‘Tell him I’ve disappeared, then all of you need to get as far away from here as possible.’

  Even Moonbeam seemed to register how serious my tone was. ‘Why? What’s going to happen?’

  ‘Nothing you need to worry about yet. But tomorrow morning…’

  He drained his pint and stood up. ‘Screw that. I’m collecting my mother and we’re getting out of here.’ He stalked out.

  ‘Don’t worry, Ivy,’ Amy said softly. ‘I can do that for you.’

  I smiled my thanks and walked over to Armstrong. ‘Hello buddy!’ I chirped.

  He didn’t even look up. ‘What do you want?’

  ‘Don’t be like that. I’m your superspy, remember?’

  He raised his eyes balefully. ‘You never gave me any useful intel at all.’

  ‘Well, that was hardly my fault.’ I nodded at the barman. ‘I’ll have a vodka,’ I said. ‘This gentleman is paying.’

  ‘Make that two,’ Armstrong grunted.

  Hmm. He already looked well on his way to the Land of Toilet Hugging as it was. I’d better make this quick. ‘You told me when we started that this area was chosen because of historical links to magic. I need to know what exactly.’

  ‘What does it matter now?’

  ‘It’s important, Morris.’

  He scanned my face. ‘It was a family. Apparently there were several witches. Things didn’t go well for them and most were burned at the stake.’ He made a vague attempt at looking apologetic. ‘Those were the times.’

  ‘Which times exactly?’

  ‘Around the turn of the nineteenth century.’

  It seemed almost inconceivable that their magical bloodline had continued since then without anyone noticing but I had to be sure. I swallowed. I really didn’t want to know the answer but I had to ask – everything hinged on it. ‘What was their name?’

  ‘McAllan.’

  The barman set out the drinks in front of us. With shaking hands, I reached down and picked up the first one, downing it in one with barely a shudder. Then I took the second glass and did the same. Armstrong just frowned.

  ‘I’ve got to go,’ I told him. ‘Pack your bags. It’s time to get out of Dodge.’

  Without waiting for a reaction, I spun on my heel just in time to see Tarquin enter. He strutted in, his shoulders back and his head held high. The few crew members dotted around, including Barry and Amy, gave him a ragged round of applause. I rolled my eyes.

  ‘Tarquin!’ I called. I strode over and barred his way before he could start massaging his own ego with his adoring public.

  He grinned. ‘Hey, Ivy.’ He bowed dramatically. ‘You’re welcome.’

  I stared at him. ‘For what?’

  ‘Saving the day, of course.’

  Never mind that all he’d done was smash a glass vial whilst others tried to deal with the real issue of the zombie. Or that his little spell had sent our investigation wildly off track. I forced a smile and did what I could to get him to listen. ‘Pay attention,’ I barked. ‘I have to go out. Winter is at the police station talking to Trevor Bellows. You need to get yourself there.’

  He frowned at me and flipped back his hair. ‘I think I’ve done enough for today. I was going to have a drink and relax. Adeptus Exemptus Winter can look after Bellows.’

  I gritted my teeth. ‘Bellows isn’t the real villain. He is a villain but he’s not the one threatening the stability of Scotland.’

  ‘Huh?’

  Somehow, it didn’t surprise me that Tarquin was out of the loop. ‘Just get to Winter. Make sure he stays there and doesn’t come looking for me. This is hugely important, Tarq.’ I needed some way to make sure he did as I asked; I couldn’t afford for Winter to come after me. ‘There’s no one else here I trust to do this. Are you clever enough to keep Winter in one place?’

  Tarquin drew himself up. ‘What? Of course I am! If I’m clever enough to create a spell to keep ageing at bay, I can certainly hold one Arcane Branch investigator back. Ha! It would be a piece of cake.’

  I pushed up onto my tiptoes. ‘Are you sure? Winter is pretty canny…’

  Tarquin rolled his eyes. ‘He is no match for the might of the Tarq. I’ll do it now.’ He turned on his heel and exited while I let out a breath. He’d been easier to manipulate than I expected. My challenge had at least ensured that he’d not asked why I needed Winter to stay with Bellows. As long as my sapphire-eyed soulmate didn’t come near me, everything would be fine. Probably.

  I darted up to the room I shared with Amy, quickly changing into warmer clothes – because it’s important to be snug when you’re facing certain death – then I grabbed my phone and left again. There was just one other thing to take care of.

  ‘Brutus!’ There was a faint rustle from some bushes to my right but nothing else. ‘Brutus, this is urgent. I wouldn’t interrupt your night-time stalking if it weren’t.’

  I heard another rustle and then the cat in question appeared with a poor mouse hanging from his mouth. I gave him a frown and he opened his jaws, letting the creature to escape.

  ‘I wish you wouldn’t do that.’

  He gave me a look filled with feline ferocity. ‘Food.’

  ‘Try the hotel kitchen.’ I crouched down and scratched his ears. ‘I need you to listen first, though. I’m going out to find Gareth McAllan. I’m certain he’s the necromancer. It’s not very likely that I’ll come back.’

  For once, Brutus appeared to listen. I took a deep breath. ‘I’m sorry,’ I said, meaning it wholeheartedly. ‘It sucks for you. Wait in my room. Winter will show up in the morning and then you can go with him. He’s a good guy and I’m sure he’ll let you hang out. Besides, you like his familiar, don’t you? Princess Parma Periwinkle? You’ll get to spend more time with her after I’m gone.’

  A flood of unshed tears rose up in my throat. ‘You’ll be fine. Just do what Winter tells you and everything will work out. I love you to pieces, you miserable bugger, and I’m so happy to have known you.’

  Brutus blinked. ‘You go? Where?’

  ‘I’ll try Gareth’s farm. If that fails, he’ll probably be at the cemetery.’ Preparing for his next raisi
ng. I shuddered.

  Brutus sniffed and head-butted my hand. Then he turned round and sauntered away. If I were honest, I had hoped for a little more.

  Rubbing my eyes, and trying not to feel too hurt, I stood up. Using the remote control key, I located Barry’s car and strode purposefully over to it. Everything was starting to add up – and not in a good way.

  I’d been blinded by the events on set at Enchantment and the extraordinary Oscar-winning acting skills of Gareth McAllan. I knew it was strange that sheep seemed to figure so heavily, even though up here they outnumbered humans by about twenty to one. My hallucination happened after I’d touched the sheep out by the river; Mazza’s hallucination happened after he’d killed the sheep on Dead Man’s Hill. The sheep really were bewitched. Just not in a way I’d considered. Maybe they figured into the spell for bringing the dead back to life. I had no idea. But where there were sheep, there was also Gareth.

  He had obviously slipped by the Order when they looked into his family. By his own admission, the police had considered him as a suspect. And he was the one to find Benjamin Alberts. I was reminded of the old schoolyard rhyme – he who smelled it, dealt it. Except in this case, we were talking about something far worse than wind.

  I’d been wholeheartedly hoodwinked. Gareth was the culprit; he was the necromancer. Now all I had to do was find him and pray I didn’t end up dead. But if that was what it would take, I’d accept the risk.

  The only silver lining was that Winter was safely out of the way and focused on Bellows. He wouldn’t try any heroics to take my place. He wouldn’t get hurt. He wouldn’t even know until it was too late.

  I massaged my neck and got behind the wheel, the interior light illuminating the inside of Barry’s car. As I started up the engine, I found the contact number I needed.

  ‘Hello! You have reached Julia’s voicemail. Leave a message and I’ll get back to you as soon as possible.’

  Arse. ‘Julia, it’s Ivy. I know there’s patient confidentiality and all that stuff to deal with but I need you to confirm something for me. I’m seriously concerned about Gareth McAllan, the man you referred to another psychiatrist for me. I think he’s a danger both to himself and others. Any insight your friend could give me would be useful. If you hear this message in the next hour then call me straight away. If you’re listening to this in the morning, well, don’t worry.’

  There wasn’t really much else to say. I hung up. It was time to face the enemy.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  It took longer to find the main farmhouse than I thought it would. I circled round the area several times before I finally spotted the narrow lane leading up to it. Passing a few fields, each one containing the shadows of more sheep than I dared to count, I drove up and parked right in front of the door. It seemed sensible to have a quick getaway should I need one.

  I took a deep breath, pulled my shoulders back and got out. My fingers were twitching to perform as many defensive runes as I could while I had the chance. I reminded myself that I might need to conserve my energy and simply played possible scenarios in my head so I was prepared. Then I knocked loudly on the door. Waiting outside wasn’t my usual modus operandi but I was trying to be cautious for once in my life.

  A harassed looking woman with a lined face, who I reckoned was in her forties, answered. I couldn’t see any resemblance to Gareth but she still looked oddly familiar. Maybe she just had one of those faces.

  Without smiling, I introduced myself and got to the point. ‘I need to see Gareth. Now.’

  ‘Gareth?’ Her face scrunched up as if she didn’t have the faintest idea who I was talking about. ‘What do you want him for? Do you know what time it is?’

  ‘It’s an emergency.’ And then, because I thought it might help, I added, ‘I’m a good friend of his.’

  Her lip curled. ‘He’s got friends?’

  ‘If you could just tell him I’m here…’

  ‘He’s not in.’ She made to close the door but I wedged my foot in to stop her.

  ‘Where is he?’

  ‘One of the sheep has run off. Again. He’s gone after it. Fool boy can’t keep them in one place.’ She seemed to take perverse pleasure in his failures. All the same, my blood chilled.

  ‘Where did he go?’ I asked urgently. ‘Which direction?’

  ‘How the hell should I know?’ She rolled her eyes. ‘Now piss off.’

  This time she succeeded in shoving my foot out and closing the door. Wincing in pain, I drew back and stared at it. I could use magic to force it open but, despite the woman’s sour, unfriendly manner, I sensed she was telling the truth about Gareth – at least as far as she understood it. Somehow I doubted he was really searching for another errant sheep; in fact, I’d lay money on him using deepest darkest necromancy right at this very moment. If I were going to stop him, I’d have to move my plump arse faster than it was designed to go.

  With heart-attack inducing speed, I accelerated back down the lane towards Dead Man’s Hill. Maybe they would rename it Dead Ivy Hill after this; that wouldn’t be fair on Benjamin Alberts, or any of the souls resting in the cemetery, but it sounded good. The more I focused on idiotic vanities, the less terrified I felt. That had to count for something.

  I wasn’t foolish enough to drive up the same track where Winter and I had gone previously on the bike. I parked as close to the graveyard entrance as I could and sprinted through the heavy gates, ignoring the ominous shape of the mountain looming over me. The one small mercy was that the cemetery was at the bottom of the damn hill rather than the top. All the same, I was panting by the time I reached the first of the gravestones.

  I doubled over, trying desperately to catch my breath and imagining Winter in my ear snarking at me for not doing anything to keep fit. That was when I heard footsteps.

  Staying low, I edged round the neatly manicured pathway. There was a slight rise over to the right – and there was definitely a figure walking towards it, silhouetted against the night sky and with hands in pockets and slumped shoulders. I scanned round. This was no zombie; neither were there any other signs of nightmarish creatures. All the same, I half expected to hear Vincent Price’s voice booming about darkness falling across the land. Somehow I didn’t think I was going to be treated to an impromptu Thriller dance.

  I decided that the element of surprise was the best thing going for me. Taking my time, I moved forward following a circuitous route to where the figure, presumably Gareth, was standing. He still hadn’t seen me. That was good.

  I licked my lips and swallowed, wishing my tongue didn’t feel quite so furry. I should have had a last supper. Even condemned criminals got that much.

  A gust of wind blew my hair, plastering it across my face and temporarily obscuring my sight. At the same time, an owl hooted. My fear increased; as far as harbingers of death and disaster went, that was one of the best. Winter might scoff at my superstitions but look at what had happened to Belinda after smashing that mirror.

  I drew in a ragged breath. There was nothing wrong with being scared; that was only natural. It didn’t mean I should turn away and run. Nobody visited a graveyard in the dead of night unless they were kids on a dare or they were planning something evil. Gareth might be young but he was no kid – and as the few clouds obscuring the moon passed, his face was momentarily illuminated. He’d stopped moving and was standing stock still, staring down at one of the graves.

  The intelligent thing would have been to cast a rune to knock him dead right there and then. I might never have drawn one to cause immediate death before but that didn’t mean I didn’t know how. But I was no stone-cold killer, more’s the pity; I couldn’t strike him down without giving him the chance to speak first. I’d probably end up regretting it but I needed to be sure.

  I wasn’t going to give him the opportunity to attack me, however. I wasn’t completely stupid.

  I skirted round until I had a clear line of sight. As I watched, he withdrew one hand from his pocket and r
an it through his hair. A strangled whisper drifted over. ‘You little idiot.’

  Rather than trying to decipher who he was talking about, I prepared. If I could do this while drawing blood at the same time, I would know how far I’d need to take this. A double-handed rune to bring him down, swiftly followed by a second to cut would do the trick.

  I bit down hard on my tongue, tasting my own blood. It was now or never. I raised my hands. A half second later, my phone rang.

  Gareth whipped round. He took a few running steps towards me, his eyes squinting as he tried to see who and where I was. I fumbled for the bloody phone, doing everything I could to silence it whilst staying in the shadows. As it mercifully stopped ringing, Gareth shouted, ‘Alistair?’

  Eh? Who the bejesus was Alistair? I frowned, flummoxed. Did Gareth have a partner? Were there two necromancers instead of one? Horror poured through me. I could stop one but I doubted I’d have any chance against two. There wasn’t any further time to waste.

  Knocked off my equilibrium, I breathed in and cast the runes I’d originally intended. The ground shook, a localised disturbance directly under his feet. Gareth fell forwards onto his hands and knees. As my phone started ringing again, I jabbed out the second rune, turning the very air molecules against him and slicing open his cheek. Gareth cried out, one sharp howl of pain. I had to trust in my magic. It was too dark to see whether I’d actually drawn blood.

  I dragged myself forward. The combination of the spells I’d cast, along with the last vestiges of the spell that had slammed into me earlier, was taking its toll. I felt mind-numbingly exhausted.

  ‘Sleep when you’re dead,’ I muttered to myself. Not my normal catchphrase, of course, but given that I might soon be in that state, it seemed apt.

  Ignoring the incessant ringing of the phone, I reached Gareth, my hands extended and more than ready both to defend myself and finish him.

  He arced his head up towards me, pain mingled with something indecipherable in his eyes. Whoever he’d been expecting, it wasn’t me. His mouth dropped open. ‘Ivy?’