by Helen Harper
Then the door closed and Winter and I were alone.
Chapter Two
For several seconds after the Ipsissimus left, neither of us said anything. The silence lengthened, filling the atmosphere with a heavy, uncomfortable feeling.
‘How have you been?’ Winter asked eventually.
‘Good.’ I hesitated. ‘You?’
‘Good.’
There was more awkward silence. I scratched my neck and sighed. This could be going better. ‘How’s Princess Parma Periwinkle?’ I asked, referring to Winter’s daftly named familiar.
‘Fine. Although she will be staying behind in Oxford for the duration of this investigation. She doesn’t travel well.’
‘Mmm.’ I racked my brains for something else to say. ‘Have you changed jobs?’ I enquired finally. Winter’s brow furrowed. ‘You used to deal with stolen property. Murder seems an entirely different proposition.’
He raised his shoulders in a vague shrug. ‘I was reassigned. Obviously I’m still in Arcane Branch but, given that our assignment together involved the death of an Adeptus Exemptus and we managed to solve the case…’
‘…then,’ I finished for him, ‘your superiors have seen your abilities and granted you an even more prestigious position.’ He nodded while I arched an eyebrow. ‘Are you being groomed for Department Head?’ To be in charge of Arcane Branch was to enjoy heady heights indeed.
Winter tapped his foot. ‘There are many talented witches in Arcane Branch. And it doesn’t look like Magus Phelps is retiring any time soon. I’m still only Second Level, Ivy.’
‘Plenty of Department Heads are Second Level.’
‘Not Arcane Branch.’
I pursed my lips. ‘So you’re looking to move up to Third Level?’ It was the highest any witch could go. I had no doubt that Winter would achieve it sooner or later, regardless of his relatively young age.
‘Are you suggesting that I shouldn’t?’ His tone was cool. ‘Ambition isn’t a disease, you know.’
I held up my hands. ‘Heavens forbid I would think such a thing. I think you’d be a good Department Head, Rafe.’ I used his first name deliberately just to see how he’d react. There was nothing more than a faint flicker in his eyes. ‘And I’m sure your skills are more than up to the task.’ He watched me as if he thought I were somehow taking the piss.
Unsure how we’d reached this point, I half grimaced. ‘Are you sure you don’t want anything to drink?’
‘Do you have tequila?’ There was an odd note in his voice. I hardly needed reminding that tequila was what we’d both been drinking before we ended up in bed together.
I sucked in a breath. ‘I don’t have any. But I can go out and get some if you…’
He forestalled me. ‘It was a joke, Ivy. I’m fine.’
I laughed unconvincingly.
Winter sat back down on the same chair, took out a manila folder and opened it up. ‘Despite the production company’s recalcitrance,’ he said formally, ‘we have managed to procure you a position via one of the recruitment agencies they use. You will be working for them for the duration of filming.’
The thought of being on set for Enchantment was almost enough to make me forget the strange awkwardness between us. I had sudden visions of operating a camera or snapping a clapboard and yelling ‘Action!’ It might be work but it also sounded fun.
I grinned in delight and shook out my hair. ‘I’m ready for my close-up, Mr de Winter.’
He gave me a blank look. ‘You will be a runner with duties involving—’
Whoa. Hold on a minute. I interrupted him. ‘What did you say?’
‘You’ll be a runner.’
My shoulders slumped. ‘That was what I thought I heard.’ I shook my head. ‘I don’t think myself and running go together.’ I raised my eyebrows pointedly. ‘You should know that.’
Winter sighed. ‘You won’t actually be running. It’s an entry-level position, which is all we could get you with your lack of experience. You’ll mostly be completing errands for the crew. It works out very well because it means you’ll have plenty of reasons to be in all sorts of places. You can get to know everyone on set and you’ll be well placed to discover any anomalies.’
‘I’m afraid I’m still focused on the word runner.’
‘Ivy…’
‘What?’
He pressed his lips into a line. ‘You’ll be fine.’
I wasn’t so sure of that. ‘There must be something else I could do.’
‘There’s not.’ He checked the sheet in front of him. ‘You will report each morning at 5am.’ I began to splutter but Winter completely ignored me and carried on. ‘Your contracted hours will run until 6pm.’
‘That’s thirteen hours!’
‘You get a break for lunch,’ he informed me, as if that made all the difference.
‘Thirteen, Winter! I know you don’t believe in superstitions but come on! You need to get that changed.’
‘You can finish at 7pm if you prefer. Sometimes there will be night shoots so you may well be expected to stay for longer.’
‘No way. I’m not doing it.’
He looked up. ‘Are you complaining that you have to work for thirteen hours or that you have to work?’
‘It’s slave labour!’ I protested. ‘No one should have to work for that length of time. Even Order geeks probably don’t…’ My voice faltered when I saw the expression on his face. I gritted my teeth. ‘Fine.’ I’d just have to seek out a quiet corner where I could snooze for a few hours each afternoon. If all I was doing was ‘running’, that shouldn’t be too hard.
Winter took out two pieces of paper. ‘Here are Benjamin Albert’s details. It’s your job to find out more about him and whether his death is connected to the show itself or to anything magical. If you can find evidence of the latter, the Order can get involved. You’ll also need to keep any eye out for any suspicious behaviour, particularly involving the remaining contestants. We can’t have anyone else getting hurt. Check out the crew. I have details here about all of them and basic information on their backgrounds. We’ve not uncovered anything worrying yet – but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist.’
I stared at him. ‘I assume you want me to have time to eat and breathe as well.’
‘Don’t be facetious.’ He pointed to yet another piece of paper. There was a photograph in the right-hand corner. I craned my neck, catching a glimpse of a man in his thirties and who was wearing a witch’s hat of all things. I grinned. I knew instantly who he was.
‘This is Trevor Bellows,’ Winter explained. ‘He’s the magical consultant for the show. Any spells are run through him and he’ll sniff you out in a second if you’re not careful.’
‘I know. I’m a fan of the show, remember?’
‘Indeed. Do you know his background?’
I thought about it. Nope. He was obviously not much of a witch or he’d be in the Order rather than working for Enchantment. He’d always struck me as more of an actor than a magician.
Taking my silence as an answer, Winter continued. ‘This is his official background story, which was released by the production company several years ago. He’s not an Order witch and never has been, so we have no way of knowing what his actual abilities are.’
I put aside the long list of orders from Winter for now and focused on Bellows, glancing down at his meagre biography. ‘He grew up in Tibet? Seriously?’
‘His story is that his parents were seconded there by the British government.’
I looked up. ‘You don’t believe it?’
Winter’s lip curled. ‘We have traced him so far to Slough. It appears that the nearest he’s been to Tibet is getting his photo taken with a yak at a local petting zoo.’
Hmmm. ‘I’m not convinced he possesses much magical ability. I’ve seen him perform a few spells in previous series but they never really amounted to much.’
‘As I said, we have no idea what he’s capable of. I don’t think he can do muc
h either but, until we know otherwise, you should assume that he’s dangerous and has a battery of abilities and knowledge at his fingertips. He has, after all, been the main consultant for Enchantment for years. There must be something to his claims.’
I frowned. ‘The target audience isn’t witches. All the magic is fairly low-level stuff which is designed to provoke loud whistles and create big bangs but isn’t really anything of substance. The challenges don’t require much in the way of magic knowledge either.’ I tapped my mouth thoughtfully. ‘For example, the big show-stopper last season when it came down to the final two contestants was to create a spell to make as many people as possible stop in their tracks and watch. One contestant designed a light show that failed epically because it was high noon and there was too much sunshine for it to make an impact. Most of what she created was simply enhanced fireworks. The other one turned the Thames pink.’ I shrugged. ‘It was more of a murky purple really.’
Winter blinked at me. ‘And you actually watch this? Regularly?’
‘It’s not about the magic,’ I said earnestly. ‘People want to see showy shebangs but they prefer it when the contestants fail spectacularly and when they fall out with each other. It’s about making good television, not about who can create the best spells, regardless of what the producers might want you to think. It’s highly entertaining. You should watch it. In any case, there’s not enough evidence from the programmes themselves to suggest what Trevor Bellows can do.’
‘Well,’ Winter said with a dismissive grunt, ‘there will be plenty of opportunity for spectacular failures and fallings-out in the Highlands of Scotland.’
‘That’s where the expedition is happening?’
He nodded. ‘I’m still working on a way to regularly debrief you.’ He reached into his pocket and took out a neatly folded map. Jabbing at what looked like a massive mountain, he started to explain. ‘Most of the filming is taking place here but there’s a small village where the crew will be based.’ Winter squinted. ‘Tomintoul. It looks like it’s pretty.’
‘It looks like it’s in the middle of nowhere.’
‘It is supposed to be the wilderness, Ivy.’
I wrinkled my nose. I’d been hoping for the sort of wilderness that involved a tropical island with swaying palm trees and butlers carrying multi-coloured drinks with mini-parasols in them. Up a freezing mountain in the Scottish Highlands didn’t sound like my kind of thing.
‘Anyway,’ Winter continued, ‘in Tomintoul, there’s a small square. Each night, at the stroke of midnight, we will meet there and you can tell me what you’ve discovered.’
‘Wait a minute,’ I said slowly. ‘You want me to start work at 5am. As a runner. I’ll be on duty for thirteen hours. And then you expect me to come and find you at midnight?’ My voice was getting higher and higher.
‘It’s the safest way.’ He checked the map again. ‘Everyone else will be tired out and sleeping by that time, so there’s no chance you’ll be seen.’
‘I’ll be tired out! I’ll need to sleep!’ I shook my head. ‘Nope. I’ve changed my mind. Get the Ipsissimus back here. I’m going to stay at home instead.’ I patted the sofa. ‘I’ll stick to the original plan and watch it from here then report in afterwards by telephone.’
The tiniest smile played around his lips. It was the first time since he’d shown up tonight that he’d looked at me with anything other than irritation, annoyance or downright disdain. ‘You did say you were willing to put in the effort.’
I growled at him. ‘I can change my mind. It’s a lady’s prerogative.’
‘Too late. We’re counting on you now, Ivy.’ There was a faintly mocking edge to his words.
I narrowed my eyes. ‘Have I done something to annoy you?’ I asked. ‘We were getting on well last time I saw you.’ I softened my voice. ‘Very well.’
‘What could you possibly do that would annoy me?’ Winter’s fleeting amusement vanished and he glanced down, pretending to inspect the map again.
‘You keep looking at me like … like…’ I fumbled for the right words. ‘Like I’ve disappointed you or something.’
‘I have no idea what you’re talking about.’ Winter stood up. ‘I should go. There are still lots of preparations to put into place before filming starts.’ He pointed at the folder. ‘And you’ve got homework to do.’
No. I wasn’t going to let this go. ‘Winter, just tell me. If you’re angry that we slept together then I’m sorry. I didn’t do it to try and compromise you or your position.’
His jaw clenched. ‘I am not angry that we slept together.’
Hope flickered. ‘You’re not?’
‘I’m not angry at all, Ivy.’
I remained still. ‘Yes, you are.’
Winter’s expression shuttered. For a long drawn-out moment he didn’t say anything. Finally he took a deep breath and gazed down at me. ‘I just don’t understand why you’re carrying with that Villeneuve fellow after everything he’s done to you.’
I stared at him. ‘Pardon?’
‘It was obvious what was going on tonight when we showed up. The very fact that he’s even living here…’
I felt a flash of sudden understanding – and glorious happiness. ‘I didn’t know he’d moved here until tonight. He got into my taxi and demanded I drive him or he’d make a formal complaint. There’s nothing between us. There never will be.’ I tilted my head. ‘Were you really jealous?’
Thinking about it now, it was clear how compromising the scene had probably appeared, considering I’d been a hair’s width away from Tarquin when the Ipsissimus and Winter showed up. Not to mention that it had probably looked like I’d been whispering sweet nothings into his ear.
Winter turned away from me. ‘Why would I be jealous?’
A massive smile split my face. ‘I can’t imagine.’ I touched his arm. ‘There’s nothing going on between Tarquin and me. I promise, Rafe. You’d know that if you’d been in touch since last month.’
He grunted in response. I hoped he was going to say something else, or at the very least turn back around and face me. Unfortunately, Brutus took that opportunity to stroll back in.
‘Foooooooood.’
‘In a minute.’
‘Food. Food. Food. Food.’
‘I should go,’ Winter said quickly. He glanced over his shoulder. ‘I’ll see you next week, Ivy. Read through the files before then.’ He hesitated then turned round, leaned down his head and kissed me gently on the cheek. ‘Take care.’
I was left standing in my own living room with my skin burning and my thoughts awhirl. Now what was I going to do?
Chapter Three
I took Brutus with me. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust Eve to look after him while I was away so much as I didn’t trust Brutus with Eve. He was none too impressed at being shoved into his cat carrier like an ordinary cat, although he did cheer up somewhat when I informed him that we weren’t going to the vet. What I neglected to tell him was just how long it was going to take us to get to Tomintoul. All these witches around and not one of them had ever managed to make a broomstick fly. One day, perhaps.
In any case, so that I could maintain the fiction that I was a poor non-witch willing to work nonsensical hours for the minimum wage I took the train, ostensibly travelling on my own. It was a long trip up to the north of Scotland, with several changes. It was nice to just sit back and relax. With the cart coming by every hour or so selling all manner of junk food, not to mention tea so strong you could stand up a spoon in it, I decided there were far worse ways to pass my time. Until, that was, someone came along and sat beside me after we’d passed Crewe.
I’m not averse to people. While I’m aware that my apathetic tendencies can sometimes be mistaken for misanthropy, I’m really not that bad. I’d not be much of a taxi driver if I were. However, when I end up sitting next to a man who spreads out his legs almost as wide as they’ll possibly go, squeezing me against the window, before falling asleep with his head dro
pping uncomfortably onto my shoulder, I happen to get rather tetchy.
I twice attempted to shove him away from me but, despite my best efforts, he stubbornly remained put. Even worse, when I sharply nudged him the second time, he just started to snore. It wasn’t a delicate little wheeze either. No: this man sounded like a warthog on a mission to wake up the devil.
Brutus appeared equally disgruntled by his presence, edging out a sharp claw from inside his cage to swipe at the space-hogging fiend. He had as little effect on the man as I did which, given just how sharp my familiar’s claws were, was quite something. I shook my head. This simply wouldn’t do. I’d have knocked my lukewarm tea off the little tray table onto his lap if it didn’t seem like a terrible waste of a good drink.
What I really needed was something organic. I’d dabbled in herblore for a week or two after my magical binding was removed, not because I enjoyed that particular strain of magic but because Winter was rather fond of it. In the end, however, it became too irritating when I never had the herbs I required to hand and I soon abandoned my efforts.
I dug around in my jacket pockets on the off-chance that there were a few sprinkles of something still lingering around. Unfortunately they were empty apart from a twisted sweet wrapper. Then I caught sight of the crisps trodden into the floor under the seat in front of me. Not perfect but, if I got lucky, they’d be one of the more pungent flavours. I was hoping for cheese and onion. The discarded corner of an egg mayo sandwich or a few lost scampi fries would be better, but the train was just a bit too clean for that. I’d have to work with what I had.
I stretched out one toe, arching it past Brutus’s carrier and snagging a few of the crumbs. Bringing them closer to me, which was no mean feat given just how little space I had to work with, I began drawing out the rune I required.
It didn’t take long for the magic to do its job. I’d barely finished the rune when the most godawful reek began to rise. Rotten vegetables with an extraordinary odour of foul fish. It appeared whoever had been sitting here before me had gone one better than cheese-and-onion crisps – they’d been munching on prawn cocktail flavour. Not my snack of choice but it was perfect for this scenario.
