by Helen Harper
‘There’s no evidence—’ I began.
‘I said perhaps. And you’ve accused everyone else we’ve met so far. Why not him?’
I shrugged; it just didn’t seem very likely. In any case, Oscar Marsh clearly wasn’t going to wake up without further help. I glanced round the room. Unless I was going to chuck the dregs of flat beer into his face, there wasn’t much that would help. Frankly, the man already smelled badly enough.
‘I’ll find the kitchen and get some water,’ I said gruffly. I turned on my heel.
There was a small galley kitchen towards the front door. It was surprisingly clean but Oscar Marsh probably didn’t do much cooking if he lived on a liquid diet. I was beginning to feel irritated. The Order obviously knew he had problems; there were plenty of things they could have done to help him.
I opened cupboards until I found a cup, took it to the sink and turned on the tap. Winter was shouting at Marsh in the other room. I paused and listened. It still didn’t seem like the man had woken up.
Glancing down, I reached over to turn off the tap. That was when I spotted the small, charred fragment of paper caught in the plughole. I set the cup to one side and carefully pulled it out. It was little more than a few inches wide and had obviously been burnt but there were still a few words visible.
I squinted at them and my veins ran ice cold. I guess I’d been wrong about Marsh. Leaving the water where it was, I went back to Winter. He was crouched down by Marsh’s head, poking him. ‘Winter,’ I whispered. He didn’t react. I tried again. ‘Rafe!’
The urgency in my voice reached him. He turned round and glanced at me. Grimly, I held out the tiny piece of paper. ‘I probably should have worn gloves,’ I said apologetically, realising that I had probably contaminated the evidence.
Winter stood up and took the paper. It took less than a second for its meaning to sink in. His face shuttered and something indefinable flashed in his eyes. Without another word he spun round, marched back to Marsh and hauled him upwards by the scruff of his neck.
Even Winter’s violent tug didn’t immediately wake up the witch. He emitted a groan. When Winter shook him, he finally opened his eyes, bleary confusion in their murky brown depths.
‘Wh – what?’ Marsh gabbled.
‘Philosophus Oscar Marsh, you are under arrest by proclamation of the Hallowed Order of Magical Enlightenment,’ Winter spat, using official Order language. ‘Any attempt to use magic to provoke, conceal or avoid taking responsibility for your actions will be held against you, regardless of your guilt or innocence. You are entitled to legal representation and to apply to the non-magical courts for consideration.’
Marsh still didn’t seem to understand what was going on. I didn’t blame him: one minute he was comatose in a puddle of his own spit and the next he had a furious Adeptus yelling at him. Then my gaze drifted downwards and I noticed that among the other stains on his grubby T-shirt there was definitely blood. My sympathy vanished in an instant.
‘What have I done?’ He blinked rapidly as if trying to remember.
‘You stole the Ipsissimus’s sceptre and Volume 9 of the Cypher Manuscript. Finally,’ Winter hissed, ‘you murdered Adeptus Exemptus Diall.’
Marsh just gaped at him. ‘I don’t think…’ He moaned. ‘I have a really sore head. Could we do this some other time?’
Winter laughed coldly in his face. ‘Not likely. Your time is up.’
Chapter Twenty
By the time we finally left with the hapless Marsh in tow, his house was swarming with witches. I had to resist the temptation to point out gleefully to Winter that I’d been right about the smell; the poor Arcane Branch pair who’d been tasked with sorting through Marsh’s rubbish had already found the remnants of a kebab and some half-eaten chips smothered in now-rancid curry sauce.
I was sitting with our charge in the back of the Order van as he was driven back to headquarters. There was a peculiar odour in the air; I’d have said it was Marsh but the only things he smelled of were stale chilli sauce, alcohol and sour sweat. Nobody said a word during the journey. It wasn’t until we ended up in a small room in the Arcane Branch building that it seemed appropriate to speak.
We took our seats opposite a pale and sweating Marsh who was now dressed in a paper jumpsuit. ‘Do you know,’ I said to Winter, ‘this is the first time I’ve been here? I’ve been working for you for weeks and I’ve never stepped into this building.’
Winter look at me strangely. ‘It’s only been a few days. It’s hardly been weeks.’
‘It feels like weeks.’
He rolled his eyes.
Oscar Marsh paid us very little attention. I cleared my throat and leant forward. ‘Oscar,’ I said. ‘Have you been here before?’
The question didn’t seem to register initially. ‘Wh – what?’
‘Have you been to Arcane Branch before?’
‘Uh,’ he scratched his head as if trying to remember. ‘Yeah, a few times.’
‘Why don’t you tell us about them?’ I prodded. If Marsh had priors, I wanted to know about them. Given the luck we’d had so far in procuring any files, I didn’t rate our chances of finding out the information from the Order itself.
‘Uh,’ he said again. It appeared to be a favourite word of his. ‘There was that time I fell into the lake.’
I shot Winter a confused look. He nodded. ‘Do you mean the duck pond round the back of Geomancy?’ he asked.
‘Yeah, yeah,’ Marsh said. ‘No ducks, though. Just lots of green stuff.’
I sat back in my chair. ‘That seems a bit unfair, getting questioned by Arcane Branch simply for a little stumble.’
Marsh’s nose twitched. ‘I turned the water into vodka. I was trying to drink it when I fell in.’
I raised my eyebrows. No wonder there weren’t any ducks around. I didn’t think paddling around in a lake of alcohol would be the favourite pastime of a bird – although it didn’t sound all that bad to me. ‘You don’t like wine?’ I asked.
‘Huh?’
‘Never mind.’ I kept my eyes on him. ‘When else?’
He twitched again. ‘When else what?’
Either the man had the memory of a goldfish or he was good at avoiding answering questions. ‘When else did you visit Arcane Branch?’
‘There was the time I lost the building specs for Windsor Castle,’ he said. ‘I don’t know what all the fuss was about. They turned up.’
Intrigued, I drummed my fingers against the table top. ‘Where were they?’
He shrugged. ‘In a drawer. I’d forgotten I’d put them there.’
‘A drawer where?’ Winter asked.
‘At home.’
Winter sat up even straighter than normal. ‘You took important documents home with you and lost them?’
‘It was only the one time,’ Marsh grumbled. He rubbed at his face. ‘Is this going to take long? I really don’t feel very well at all. I think I might be sick.’
Winter picked up a small bin. ‘Here you go,’ he said without a trace of a smile. ‘Be sick into this.’
Marsh took the bin and hugged it to his chest. I really hoped he held onto the contents of his stomach; I rarely did well with other people’s vomit.
‘So,’ Winter said, all but rubbing his palms together. ‘You have experience of taking documents which don’t belong to you. Why don’t you tell us what you did with Volume 9?’
‘Volume 9?’ Marsh whispered. ‘You mean of the Cypher Manuscripts? You mentioned that before.’
‘Yes.’ Winter folded his arms. ‘I did. Where is it? We know you’ve burnt at least one page. Where is the rest?’
Marsh swallowed. ‘I don’t know anything about it. I’ve never been near the Cypher Manuscripts. I’ve never even looked at them in the library.’
Winter scratched a note to himself; it should be easy to check whether Marsh was telling the truth or not.
The witch continued. ‘I wouldn’t take them. I wouldn’t even know how to take them.
Aren’t they warded?’
Winter’s lip curled. ‘Usually, yes.’ His jaw tightened. ‘But you found a way round that, didn’t you? You circumvented the systems, almost killing Ms Wilde and me in the process. What is it you’re really after, Marsh? Is it power? You might as well tell us. The Manuscript will do you no good in prison.’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about! I’ve never touched it! I told you!’
‘Then why did we find clear evidence that you had in your home?’
‘I don’t know!’
Winter exhaled then abruptly changed tack, softening his voice. ‘What happened with Adeptus Diall? Did he threaten you? Is that why you killed him? We know it wasn’t premeditated, Oscar. Was it self-defence? We can help you if it was. We understand that Diall could be difficult.’
‘Diall’s a prick,’ Marsh grunted. Then he paused and looked up. ‘He’s dead?’ He snorted. ‘Good riddance.’
There was a knock at the door and we all jumped, even Winter. He got to his feet and opened it. There was a low murmur before he beckoned me. ‘You should hear this too, Ivy.’
I stood up. ‘Don’t go anywhere,’ I told Marsh.
He glared and rattled the chain linking his ankles together. ‘Unlikely.’
I padded over to Winter. He nudged me into the corridor and closed the door. A fresh-faced woman was standing there. ‘We’ve had the preliminary reports, Adeptus,’ she said. ‘The fragment you found is definitely from the Cyphers. We need to double check but it looks like one of the earlier pages.’
That was something; the further on you went in each Volume, the more power and magic there was. Maybe Marsh had only read the first section or two. He certainly didn’t seem to have much power or authority right now – unless he was waiting for the right moment to use the magic against us.
‘Thanks. And the rest?’
‘Adeptus Leith has been in touch. There’s very little they can decipher from Philosophus Marsh’s home. He has some effective wards in place that prevent us from casting a spell to see what he’s been up to.’
Winter nodded, unsurprised. I, on the other hand, felt differently. ‘But if he’s a Philosophus, then he’s First Level. You’ve said that only Second Level witches know how to put those kinds of wards in place.’
‘He stole an entire volume of the Cypher Manuscript, Ivy, and almost drowned us both in a sewer,’ Winter said. ‘I think we can safely assume that he has magical abilities beyond his supposed level.’
I thought of the man on the other side of the door with his bloodshot eyes and broken veins on his cheeks and nose. He didn’t strike me as someone with fabulous magical abilities but Winter was supposed to be the expert. All the same, it niggled me. This didn’t feel right.
‘The blood?’ Winter asked the woman briskly. ‘Do we have a match yet for Diall?’
She shook her head. ‘Preliminary testing tells us it’s definitely not Marsh’s own blood and it’s the same type as Diall’s, but we can’t say anything for sure yet.’ She looked troubled. ‘We’ve turned over his house and there’s no sign of the missing Cypher Manuscript. People are starting to panic.’
The cat was well and truly out of the bag. ‘So it’s common knowledge what we’re looking for?’
She nodded uneasily. Winter hissed in irritation. ‘In that case,’ he muttered, ‘we’d better find it quickly before all hell breaks loose and there are pointed fingers and harsh whispers in every corner.’
The witch’s mouth tightened. ‘I’ll do what I can to keep people calm. We’ll send out a statement as soon as possible.’ She turned and sprinted away. People around here certainly liked conducting everything at breakneck speed.
‘You’re expecting a large number of honourable Order witches to take advantage of this situation and start blaming their colleagues,’ I said to Winter.
He was silent for a long moment. ‘As you have stated on many occasions, Ivy, the Order is filled with ambition. Regardless of your opinion, ambition is a good thing. Everyone should want to better themselves and, yes, I do believe that the majority of the witches here are honourable in their ambitions. But they are also under great pressure to succeed. If a few can cast suspicion on others, they may have the opportunity to advance themselves.’
‘That’s why you need more people like me around.’ I wasn’t joking. ‘People who are content with their lot in life.’
He regarded me thoughtfully. ‘So you’re admitting that you’re glad to be here?’
I held up my palms. ‘Whoa! I didn’t say that. Besides, it’s clear you don’t really need me. What ever happened to good cop, bad cop? You’re the one asking all the questions in there. I wanted to be the tough guy while you played all sweet and nice.’
‘I’ve been trained,’ he pointed out gently. ‘It is probably better if I take the lead. Although it was a good idea of yours to probe Marsh about his other indiscretions.’
I wasn’t sure that describing murder as an indiscretion was appropriate but I wisely kept my mouth shut.
‘We’ll have to check out Marsh’s desk,’ Winter mused. ‘And it would be helpful to find his personnel file.’ He glanced at me sideways. ‘Perhaps you could put some pressure on that old boyfriend of yours.’
‘Tarquin?’ My lip curled. ‘He’s more likely to jump to your bidding than mine.’
The corner of Winter’s mouth lifted. ‘Just use some of that bubbly charm, Ivy. He’ll be eating out of your hand like everyone else in no time.’ Winter turned on his heel and went back into the interrogation room, leaving me with my jaw hanging open. Was Winter out eating of my hand, then? I smoothed back my curls and blinked. Well, well, well.
I ambled over to Human Resources, taking advantage of the time on my own to shuffle instead of march like a soldier. There was no need to rush; Tarquin wasn’t going anywhere. When I arrived, the frowny receptionist seemed keen to put me off now that I wasn’t with Winter until I brandished his name around, together with insubstantial but dire threats about the might of Arcane Branch, and she let me pass.
Adeptus Price’s door was open. I peered inside but he didn’t seem to be there. I made a beeline for Tarquin’s desk. His floppy hair was bobbing around as he tapped furiously at his keyboard. He was probably playing Candy Crush – that’s what I would have been doing.
He didn’t notice I was there until I was standing right over him. It wasn’t Candy Crush; he was filling an application for Arcane Branch. I smirked. Too late.
‘Hey, traitor,’ I said chattily.
Tarquin grimaced, the expression giving his normally handsome face an ugly slant. ‘What do you want?’
I perched on the edge of his desk, making myself at home. There was a bag of mint humbugs next to the computer screen so I helped myself to one. It was a mistake because the sweet immediately attached itself to the underside of several of my teeth, making it difficult to talk. ‘I want Oscar Marsh’s file,’ I said. My words were indistinct but I thought he got the gist.
A sneer crossed Tarquin’s face. ‘Ah, yes. It’s all over the campus, you know. Why on earth would Marsh, of all people, want the Cypher Manuscripts? He couldn’t read even the simplest volumes.’
‘Just hand over the damn file,’ I said, unwilling to gossip with Tarquin.
‘We’ve been through this. His file was checked out. Your partner didn’t want to say who took it. It’s your problem, not ours.’
‘Let me see the logbook again,’ I demanded.
Tarquin grinned. ‘Make me.’
I shrugged. ‘Okay.’ I pulled back my shoulders and raised my voice, ensuring that everyone in the HR office could hear me. ‘I am here from Arcane Branch, investigating the most serious matter that the Order has experienced for decades.’ That was probably true; I couldn’t say for sure. Whatever: it sounded impressive. ‘If you continue to obstruct this grave investigation, I shall have no option but to arrest you and assume that you…’
‘Fine!’ Tarquin snapped.
I
smiled. Winter might think I could charm the pants off Tarquin but all that was actually needed was the threat of public humiliation.
He pushed back his chair, sending it flying into the poor woman sitting behind him, and stomped over to the Records section. I tailed behind him so closely that I stepped on his heels. He glowered but didn’t say anything. Ha! He was learning.
Tarquin grabbed the logbook and thrust it at me. ‘Here.’
I took it and found the page that Price had shown us earlier. I tracked my finger along the line: it was definitely Oscar Marsh’s file that was noted and the signature, which was almost illegible, could belong to Tobias Worth-Jones. It would be possible to alter the logbook using magic but I had the feeling that such a spell would be more trouble than it was worth. The logbook was probably warded against such magic. Worth-Jones’s signature didn’t look as if it would be easy to replicate free hand and Winter didn’t seem to think there was anything untoward about his casual denial of involvement.
I adjusted my grip on the book while Tarquin looked on, amused. The darn thing was bloody heavy. As I moved my thumb, I realised that the page opposite was indented from the writing on the other side. I flipped back, then forward, then back again. No magic at all: Worth-Jones had been implicated through an action that even a child could manage.
‘What is it?’ Tarquin asked.
‘You lot are incompetent,’ I said. ‘Don’t you pay any attention to who wanders in and takes files out?’
‘That’s Rebecca’s job,’ he answered, gesturing irritably at the receptionist.
Always passing the buck, that was how people like Tarquin worked. Everything was someone else’s fault. I sighed and pointed to the previous page. ‘Look. Here is Tobias Worth-Jones checking out the file for someone in his department. See?’
Tarquin reluctantly looked over my shoulder. ‘Yeah? So?’
He was a plonker. I turned back to Marsh’s entry. It matched perfectly. ‘Someone went over his signature, pressing down so that it would appear on the next page. Then they traced over it and made it look like Worth-Jones had taken away Marsh’s file. It was probably a bonus that his handwriting is so appalling.’
