Biggins cleared his throat. ‘All assignments have to be completed in tandem. You have to be together and work together when you are investigating.’
I closed my eyes; this was even worse than I thought. I inhaled deeply. ‘It’s simple then. Winter, you take a sabbatical until the binding is removed. We both stay in Oxford to avoid anything untoward happening.’ I nodded to myself. ‘Job done.’
Winter glared at me. ‘First of all, you will address me as Adeptus Exemptus Winter.’
I raised my eyebrows. He was at the very top of the Second Level. I wondered whether he ran his own Department; it was certainly possible. He seemed rather young to have such power but what did I know?
‘Secondly,’ he continued, ‘I am not taking a sabbatical. You obviously know something about how the Order works and it appears you have a working knowledge of magic. We will work together and,’ his lip curled in distaste, ‘somehow get through this.’
‘Nope. Not happening.’
‘Now, listen—’
I pulled myself up. ‘No, Adeptus Exemptus Winter, you listen. I have a life. I don’t want to be in the Order. You can’t make me work with you. Plus,’ I added, pulling out my trump card, ‘you can bet your life-savings that the Order doesn’t want me.’
Biggins undid his cloak as if it were starting to constrict him. ‘What did you say your name was?’ he asked.
I smiled. ‘Ivy Wilde.’
He flinched. ‘Oh.’
My smile grew. ‘Oh indeed.’
Chapter Three
Biggins skittered off to make his report to the Order and to find out if there was a way to undo the binding spell; boy, I’d like to have been a fly on that wall. Meanwhile I put down some food for Harold and took Winter to my own flat. As I opened the door and realised that it was colder inside than it was out in the draughty corridor, I remembered that I still hadn’t called a damned plumber. That sucked – but at least it was a problem I had a chance of fixing.
Winter’s gaze swept across my living room. No prizes for guessing what he was thinking. There might be an absence of bee pollen but this wasn’t the gleaming place that Eve’s was. I picked up my bra from the back of the sofa and absently twirled it on one finger. He stared at me. Screw him. I wasn’t going to apologise for my clothes lying around my home.
‘So,’ he said, averting his eyes from my offending underwear, ‘I’m going to assume that you’re not in the Order because you couldn’t pass beyond Neophyte. You have the intelligence but not the magic.’
‘Guess again.’
He pointed at my thumb. ‘You’ve recently been bitten by a rodent of some kind,’ he said smugly. ‘That means you’ve not even mastered Myomancy.’
I held up the offending digit. ‘This is proof that I’m a Myomancy expert,’ I told him serenely. ‘It’s a bad omen. And look, here you are: the living embodiment of bad luck.’
‘A bite isn’t an omen.’
‘It is if you’re as adept as I am.’
He snorted. ‘Yeah, right. What can you actually do?’
I might have told him if the tone of his voice hadn’t been so incredulous but I didn’t need to prove myself to him. He needed me a hell of a lot more than I needed him. ‘What can you do?’ I returned.
‘I’m an Adeptus Exemptus. I should have thought my capabilities were obvious.’
The fact that I didn’t answer was answer enough.
Winter half-shrugged as if my silence was evidence that I was useless and changed the subject. ‘Why are you wearing wellington boots? Are you expecting a flood?’
‘I’m wearing them to guard against the pathetic tears of Order geeks like you.’
Anger flared in his eyes. ‘Let’s get one thing straight, Ms Wilde. I’m in charge here. Until we get this mess straightened out, you will follow my lead and do as I say. You will stop the insults and watch that smart mouth of yours. You will not test my patience.’
‘Was that one thing?’ I asked, cocking my head. ‘Or about five things? Do they not teach arithmetic at the Order these days?’
It was probably fortunate for both of us that Brutus chose that moment to saunter in and flop at my opponent’s feet. ‘At least you have a familiar,’ Winter grunted, avoiding my eyes in an apparent bid to reduce the antagonism between us.
‘This is Brutus,’ I told him.
My cat rolled onto his back and gazed upwards. ‘Pet,’ he demanded.
Winter leapt about three feet backwards. ‘Your familiar just spoke.’
‘Yeah.’
‘Pet,’ Brutus hissed again.
‘He wants you to stroke him,’ I said. Winter stared at me. He really did have the most intense blue eyes. I shrugged. ‘I’ve had him for a long time. Back when I was younger and more enthusiastic, I had the brilliant idea that I could develop and market a way for people to talk to their pets and have them talk back. After a lot of trial and error, I came up with the right series of runes and, hey presto. Bruno can talk.’
‘It worked?’ Winter gazed from me to the cat. He seemed to still think I was throwing my voice à la street magician.
‘In a manner of speaking. Yes, he can talk but he only has a vocabulary of about twenty words and most of them aren’t very nice. I abandoned the plan to make millions from the spell when I realised that people would finally realise their cats are selfish little bastards who only care about themselves. There would have been mass feline abandonment if they heard what their pets really have to say. It seemed prudent to keep the magic to myself.’
Winter blinked. ‘I see.’
‘Pet,’ Brutus repeated. ‘Bitch.’
‘Don’t be offended,’ I said. ‘He calls everyone that.’ I winked at Brutus and turned on my heel. Clothes would probably be a good option right about now.
***
I took my time getting ready. Winter could wait. Plus, my hair was pointing in all directions, sticking up like I’d been electrocuted; smoothing it down into something more manageable wasn’t easy.
I debated whether to wear my one and only suit, then figured that the Order probably wouldn’t give a flying shit what I was wearing. I’d still be me underneath the clothes. Instead I sniffed the crotch of yesterday’s jeans, decided they smelled okay and pulled them on, along with a faded white T-shirt emblazoned with the words ‘Monkey Magic’ from that old television show. Ha! Let them make of that what they would. I completed the ensemble with my neon-green bomber jacket. At least my nemesis wouldn’t lose me in a crowd.
When I strolled out, Winter was perched on one end of the sofa while Brutus was on the other with his hackles raised. They appeared to be having some kind of standoff. ‘I don’t think your familiar likes me,’ Winter commented.
I bit back a retort about my cat’s good taste in favour of keeping the peace. I could be restrained if the situation called for it. ‘Brutus,’ I said, ‘go and check out Mrs Burridge for me.’
Brutus gave me a look that suggested his plans for the day involved curling up in a corner and snoozing; spying on the old lady upstairs, who insisted on dabbling in runes and herbs even though she didn’t have a whisper of power inside her, was a waste of his time. Fortunately, on this occasion he elected not to show me up. He got up, stretched and wandered off.
I put my hands on my hips and eyed Winter. ‘Well?’ I asked. ‘Are we going? I’ve got things to do, so the faster we get this sorted out the better.’ I neglected to tell him that those things included lying on the sofa, eating a family-size bag of salt-and-vinegar crisps followed by copious amounts of chocolate, and occasionally reaching for the remote control.
He raised an eyebrow. ‘Is that what you’re wearing?’
I gave him a twirl. ‘Why yes, it is.’ Just because he was wearing an immaculate suit that was probably tailored to fit him and him alone, didn’t mean the rest of us had to dress like we were meeting the Queen.
He sighed heavily. ‘Fine. Let’s get a move on.’
I led the way, taking him down the
corridor to the lift. I pressed the button to call it and he stared at me in astonishment. ‘The stairs will be faster.’
‘I’ve hurt my ankle. I need to avoid strenuous exercise.’
‘You’re fine.’
‘You don’t know that.’
Exasperation filled his eyes. ‘I’m an Adeptus Exemptus. You’re in perfect physical condition.’
I brightened. ‘Do you think so?’
Winter’s mouth tightened fractionally. ‘What I mean is that you are not in pain and you are suffering from no health defects beyond an incredible lack of fitness. You could also lose some weight.’
Oh, tell me that he did not just go there. ‘Lose weight?’
Winter belatedly realised the danger he was in. ‘If you wish to achieve the sort of peak physical condition required of a Second Level witch, it might be prudent. Our work can involve a lot of running and considerable effort.’
Screw that. ‘And what work is that exactly?’ I enquired, my tone dripping with ice.
‘Arcane Branch, of course.’
I rolled my eyes. Of course. ‘Well, it’s lucky that I’m neither Second Level nor working with you on anything other than extricating myself from this ridiculous situation,’ I said. Then I crossed my arms and made it clear I had nothing more to say to him.
***
The Order headquarters are nestled between Christchurch Cathedral and Merton College. They like to point out on a regular basis that they’ve been there far longer than the university and that their members possess skills which the typical Oxford student could only dream of. The truth is that the Order simply likes to keep an eye on their academic counterparts and ensure they don’t get too uppity. The Order enjoys a venerable status but in this day and age they know it could be whipped away in favour of the latest breakthrough in bioscience or chemical engineering or whatever.
To be honest, I wasn’t sure why they worried about it. Que sera sera, and all that. With footholds in every major city in the country, not to mention representatives in the House of Lords, I suspect that Order will be standing long after the university has crumbled into decay.
I avoid this part of town as much as I can. Other taxi drivers can reap the benefits of students separating coins from pocket fluff to pay their fares. I’m not going to let the Order keep me out of my town but neither am I going to wave my existence in their faces.
Winter and I strolled down the pavement towards the main doors. Well, I say strolled: I strolled and Winter marched. Still, it did afford me a very enjoyable view of his arse, which was a particularly tight and well-rounded specimen. He might have had a rod jammed up it but that didn’t mean I couldn’t appreciate the way it was put together. I was considering whether he maintained a regime that involved several hundred squats a day when he turned round and caught me staring. For the briefest moment, I thought he looked amused.
‘Do you like what you see?’ he growled.
I shrugged. I’d been caught out; there was no point in denying it. ‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘I do.’
‘And how would you feel if I afforded you the same attention?’
‘Hey, I’m all for equality.’ I turned round to give him the same view of me as I’d had of him. All I heard, however, was a loud scoff and him striding away from me. A girl could get a serious complex hanging around him for too long.
I caught up with him, forcing my legs to move faster so I could keep up. The few students milling around were giving way to more and more red-cloaked Order witches. Considering the wide berth they gave us, coupled with the looks cast in his direction, Winter was both admired and respected. I stifled a smile. Wait until they found out who he was supposed to be working with.
No one had recognised me yet because they didn’t expect me to be here. It was some years since I’d trodden these stones but I still remembered what this place was like; word would get around quickly enough. That wasn’t my ego talking; I was being realistic. There’s nothing like several covens of witches for passing around juicy gossip.
‘Adeptus!’ a voice called from behind us. ‘Adeptus Exemptus Winter!’
Winter stopped walking and I smirked. ‘Always got time for an adoring fan, then?’ I murmured under my breath.
He looked irritated but didn’t say anything. ‘Practicus Lindman,’ he said, greeting the First Level young woman. ‘What can I do for you?’
I stilled. Anthea. I’d not seen or spoken to her in over eight years. She appeared considerably more serious than the girl I used to giggle with over fake IDs and attempts to complete complicated runes to encourage acne-free skin and glossy hair. She didn’t even have the pink dye any more; instead her hair was a shiny brown and held up in a sombre bun.
‘I’m sorry to interrupt,’ she said, without glancing at me. ‘But last week you were talking about the runes for seismic displacement and I wanted to ask if you could help me.’ She held up a piece of paper. I could tell straight away that she’d angled the first two strokes incorrectly. Given the rosy flush across her cheeks, I doubted that she really cared about the runes. This was all about getting the chance to talk to Winter.
His face relaxed and he smiled at her kindly. Huh. Maybe he had a nice side after all. I bet he didn’t tell her she needed to lose weight. ‘It’s quite simple really,’ he said. ‘Do you have a pen?’
She nodded eagerly and pulled one out. He took it and re-sketched the first rune then pointed to her version. ‘Do you see the difference?’
She cocked her head. ‘I do! Thank you so much! Would it be too much trouble to ask you…’ She looked at me mid-sentence and her voice faltered. ‘Ivy?’
I gave her a little wave. ‘Hi, Anthea.’
She swallowed and stared. ‘What are you doing here?’ She flicked a glance at Winter and her meaning was clear: what are you doing here with him?
‘Just a little misunderstanding,’ I said airily. ‘How have you been?’
She blinked several times. ‘Good. I’ve been good. I’m Practicus now. It won’t be long until I’m ready to think about moving up to Second Level.’
‘Fantastic.’ It was obvious from my tone of voice that my heart wasn’t in it.
She got the hint. ‘I should go.’
‘Wasn’t there something else?’ Winter asked.
She threw another nervous look towards me. ‘No, it’s alright. I can see you’re busy.’ Before he could respond, she all but sprinted away. I wondered who she’d tell first.
Winter was patently curious. ‘There’s definitely more to you than meets the eye, Ms Wilde.’
‘Call me Ivy, Adeptus Exemptus Winter,’ I said. I didn’t need to stand on ceremony the way he did.
‘Biggins recognised your name too,’ he continued, ignoring my pointed comment. ‘What’s your real story?’
I did my best to look blasé. ‘I was here as a Neophyte,’ I told him. ‘And then I wasn’t.’
‘Why not?’
I met his eyes. He didn’t seem to want to know the salacious details of the story, he was just vaguely curious. I shrugged. He’d find out soon enough without my help. ‘I was expelled from the Order.’ He stared. ‘For cheating.’ I paused. ‘And assault.’
Winter didn’t move a muscle.
‘But,’ I added, ‘I think the official reason was conduct unbecoming to an Order witch.’ I grinned and punched his arm. ‘So you’re really lucky having me as your new partner.’
Winter didn’t say anything. With luck, I’d done enough to avoid any further questioning on the matter. One could only hope.
Chapter Four
The remainder of our journey passed unimpeded. If I’d thought I’d feel nostalgic coming back here, I was surprised to find that it didn’t bother me at all. I liked my new life; I didn’t need the Order around me to feel fulfilled.
We dropped off all our tech items at the front door so they didn’t interfere with the magic inside. For Winter that involved a phone, a watch, an earpiece, a confusing cube-like object, a Taser, a charge
r and various other accoutrements. All I had to leave behind were my battery-operated car keys.
As a highly placed Second Level official, Winter had access to a good portion of the ancient headquarters. The higher up you are allowed to go, the more important a witch you are. He might not have been able to enter the topmost floors, which are reserved for the few Third Level members, but we could roam around most of the building. When we ascended to the seventh floor, far beyond where I’d been permitted to go during my time here, I knew things were getting serious.
‘Wait here,’ Winter said curtly as we reached a solid-looking oak door. ‘I’ll announce our arrival.’
I imagined him striding into the room with a bugle and tooting a high-pitched tune. I stifled a grin and received a frown in response. He entered, leaving me to cool my heels in the corridor. At least up here the chances of anyone I knew hovering around were slim. Bumping into Anthea was bad enough.
I took the opportunity of some alone time to slide down onto the floor and sit cross-legged, leaning my head against the wall. I reckoned I’d already had my allotted fresh air for today. It was time for a rest. I was just getting comfortable when the door opened again and yet another red cloak beckoned me inside.
Sighing at the imposition, I got to my feet and went in. The room was remarkably grand, not that I should have been surprised knowing this lot. There was a long table, polished to within an inch of its life, and several figures seated round it. To my surprise, Ipsissimus Collings, the Order’s leader was at the head. Things must be serious if he was involved; the only other time I’d met him in person was the day he’d expelled me. His expression was as grim today as it had been then.
He stood up and gestured me forward. I stood next to the ramrod-straight Winter who was facing the group. Biggins joined us from the side. It was starting to feel like the Spanish Inquisition.
‘Ms Wilde, thank you for joining us today.’ There wasn’t the faintest hint of censure or accusation in the Ipsissimus’s tone. That was a good start.