by Helen Harper
‘The vial,’ I breathed. I slapped myself on the forehead. What an idiot. I’d spent all this time trying to work out what was in it when I should have known all along.
Winter nodded. ‘The vial. It was indeed a death-drawing spell. But death drawing in the sense that it kept Belinda looking young and fresh. Villeneuve added to it and improved it from time to time but he increased its power to the point where, if it were destroyed, it’d never be renewed. Now that she’s not wearing it, well, let’s say that her appearance is somewhat … altered.’ He gave me a wry glance. ‘By smashing the vial and releasing the entire spell at once, your boyfriend saved her life. That will go some way towards mitigating the trouble he’s in for creating a vanity spell off the books in the first place.’
‘He’s not my boyfriend.’
Winter met my eyes. ‘I know.’
From outside the trailer there was a sudden scratching sound. I leapt half out of my skin. Winter, almost as alarmed as I was, opened the window and peered down. A heartbeat later, Brutus jumped inside. When he saw me, I like to think that he relaxed slightly.
‘Good?’ he enquired.
I gave him a small smile. ‘Good.’
His tail went up and he sauntered over, rubbing his head against my legs. ‘Good.’ There was a pause. ‘Food?’
I rolled my eyes. ‘No.’ I glanced at both Brutus and Winter. ‘So we still have a necromancer to find. What about Bellows?’
Winter’s mouth flattened into a grim line. ‘He’s being questioned as we speak. So far I don’t believe he’s admitted to anything. He’s a bastard, to be sure but I don’t think he has the power to pull off raising the dead.’
I sighed. ‘No. Neither do I.’
Brutus raised his head. A moment later there was knock on the partition wall and the Ipsissimus stuck his head round, a tentative smile on his face. ‘How’s the patient?’
Somewhat taken aback that the Order Head had made the journey all the way up here, I stared at him dumbly for a second before answering. ‘Er … good. I’m okay.’
‘Pleased to hear it. You had us worried there for a second.’
I eyed him sceptically. Was that worry because I’d been knocked out by his own witches and he was concerned about the ramifications? After all, the whole episode had probably been caught on camera.
‘I won’t press charges,’ I said, only half-jokingly.
The Ipsissimus’s smile grew then he glanced at Winter. ‘Perhaps you should go and check on Morris Armstrong. He seems convinced that the show can still go on.’ He wrinkled his nose. ‘Obviously that’s ridiculous.’
‘I think someone else can handle Armstrong,’ Winter replied. ‘I’ll stay here and make sure Ivy’s alright.’
‘I’m alright,’ I protested. ‘I keep telling you.’
‘Go and speak to him,’ the Ipsissimus repeated, this time in a firmer tone of voice that clearly brooked no argument.
I thought that Winter was still preparing to refuse him and I doubted that would go down well on his CV. There really was no need for him to stay around, as much as I wanted him to. I reached out and touched his arm. ‘It’s fine, Rafe. Go.’
Winter gazed at me for a long moment before eventually nodding, albeit with considerable reluctance. He hesitated then dipped his head, his lips brushing against mine. ‘Don’t do anything foolish, Ivy.’
I tilted my head up and kissed him back with more feeling. Winter’s mouth opened in surprise and I took full advantage as the pain still running through my body was replaced by a different kind of ache. He tasted of minty toothpaste and masculinity. Yeah, I knew how ridiculous that sounded, but as my senses swam I had no other words to describe it.
There was a cough. Winter pulled away and glanced at the Ipsissimus who was studiously avoiding looking in our direction.
‘I should go.’
‘Yes, Adeptus. You should.’
Winter threw me one last long look filled with meaning and left. The Ipsissimus stuck his head out the door and barked at the rest of the witches, whoever they were, to leave also. Only when he was sure they were gone did he look back at me.
‘What gives?’ I asked. I really didn’t have a good feeling about this. The man had a burning desire to talk to me alone so, whatever it was, it was bound to be important. And no doubt something I didn’t want to hear.
‘Can your familiar be trusted?’
Still at my feet, Brutus let out a small growl.
‘Of course.’
They eyed each other for a long moment. Surprisingly, it was Brutus who backed down, stalking out of the room with his whiskers quivering.
‘I’ll get straight to the point, Ms Wilde.’
It was about time someone did. I refrained from speaking and simply watched him. He sighed heavily and sat down.
‘We’ve not had a necromancer show their face for almost a hundred years. Frankly, I find it hard to believe that anyone could be stupid enough to think that raising the dead is a good idea. But,’ he shrugged, ‘here we are.’
Something occurred to me. ‘You knew all along, didn’t you?’ I said in wonder. ‘When you sent Winter and me here, you knew it was a necromancer.’
‘I suspected. I didn’t know for sure. And, regardless of his praise for you, you are not here because Adeptus Exemptus Winter wanted you.’
I felt my body tense. ‘Go on.’
‘It is imperative that the necromancer is stopped. Unfortunately, from what we understand, that is easier said than done. Philip Maidmont, the librarian who I’m sure you remember, has been diligently at work trying to discover the best course. There is only one method detailed in the Cypher Manuscripts and it is not going to be easy.’
I snorted. ‘Tell me something I don’t know.’
The Ipsissimus didn’t smile. ‘Fair enough. Necromancy is a powerful art. It can consume the user, adapting and changing almost at will to suit its own needs. Not for nothing is it considered the blackest magic. Once its power is released, it is nigh on impossible to rein it in.’
Frowning, I tilted my head. ‘But it can be done, surely? How was it halted last time?’
‘The Great Kanto Earthquake.’
Huh? A faint smile crossed the Ipsissimus’s face at my obvious confusion. ‘Tokyo, 1923. It started with one necromancer and it ended with a death toll of more than 140,000 people. Not to mention the near destruction of an entire capital city.’
I sucked in a breath. ‘Oh. That’s … bad.’ I was horribly aware of how much of an understatement my words were.
‘Indeed. While we are blessed that our little hell raiser, whoever they may be, has decided to undertake their evil work in a rural setting, we can still expect considerable damage. Necromancy feeds on itself,’ he explained. ‘It thrives on death and it is a demanding mistress.’
I paced over to the window and glanced out. The Enchantment set was like a ghost town. Mazza ambled from one side to the other with a sad expression on his face. I couldn’t see another soul, no matter how badly Morris Armstrong might want filming to continue.
‘Keep going,’ I said grimly. I turned back to the Ipsissimus. ‘There’s a reason you’re telling me all this and not Winter, so you might as well let me know what it is.’
For one fleeting breath, I thought he looked guilty. Then he raised his chin and met my gaze head-on. ‘Indeed. Either the necromancer must be killed before he grows too strong, or the magic must be halted before it can overtake him. Maidmont thinks he has found a way to neutralize the power. There is an incantation which, if performed by a highly capable witch, is likely to stop the magic in its tracks. I believe you possess that capacity.’
‘What’s the catch?’ Because there was always a catch. Always.
At least the Ipsissimus didn’t beat around the bush. ‘The side-effects of doing such a thing are catastrophic. As far as we can tell, the witch who performs the incantation will be forced to absorb the necromantic magic themselves. In all likelihood, it will destroy the
m, body and soul.’
Now we were at the crux of the matter. ‘You want me to do this. You want me to sacrifice myself.’
His answer was simple. ‘Yes.’ He paused. ‘I am sorry. I do like you, Ms Wilde, despite what has gone on in the past. It is a shame that you are not in the Order. I think you could have done great things.’ He met my gaze. ‘Of course, if you can kill this rogue witch in time then the incantation may not be required.’
I swallowed. Killing another human being wasn’t usually in my daily planner. Not that there was ever anything in my daily planner. But if it meant stopping the loss of life on a grand scale, there really wasn’t any choice to make. Unfortunately the same went for the incantation. If it were the choice between destroying myself and destroying half of Scotland, I’d have to step up to the proverbial plate.
I didn’t bother suggesting that Winter should do it. He possessed just as much magic as I did, but he was in the Order and I wasn’t. I was expendable. That might have rankled if it weren’t Winter. I would do this for him. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself otherwise.
‘How will we know?’ I asked quietly. ‘How will we know whether there’s still time to neutralize the magic?’
‘He has already raised two undead creatures. If a third one is brought from its grave then it’s too late. But it takes time to maintain that kind of energy, especially between the first few raisings. There may be a day’s grace.’
Except a day wasn’t very long at all. And the Ipsissimus didn’t sound very convincing. ‘You don’t think it’s likely. You think it’s already too late.’
‘I do.’
I sighed. ‘In truth, we might not know if there’s been a third raising, even if we find the necromancer.’
‘It’s death magic,’ the Ipsissimus said. ‘If you can find the bastard in question, spill some of their blood and it remains red in colour, his or her death will be all that’s required. If their blood is tinged with black then it’s too late. If you can’t get close enough to draw blood…’
‘Then the incantation should be performed anyway,’ I finished. The risk would just be too great not to. I didn’t like the odds of coming through this unscathed.
He knitted his hands together. ‘I am glad you see what must be done.’ His expression didn’t change. ‘I need to know if you can do this, Ms Wilde.’
I laughed humourlessly. ‘What’s the choice?’
‘Other than Adeptus Winter? Me.’ He gestured at himself. ‘I’m the only other witch in the vicinity with the capability. The other Third Levels who can do it are making their way here with all due haste, but I don’t think they’ll arrive in time.’ His voice was filled with frustration. ‘We’re in the middle of nowhere.’
He sat down heavily. ‘Raphael Winter has it in him to be Ipsissimus one day and he will be a damn good one. He has both the integrity and the ability. But that day is not today. I’m not convinced that there are any Third Level witches who could manage it either.’
I understood what he wasn’t saying. ‘If you do it and you die in the process, the Order will be thrown into chaos. Things are unstable enough as it is.’
He sighed. ‘Yes. Maybe in a year or two we will have made enough inroads into changing our laws and structures to manage my … abdication. However, I am deeply concerned about what would happen without a strong and ethical successor already in place. After what happened with Adeptus Diall and Price, the next Ipsissimus must be appointed with great caution.’
I nodded. The Ipsissimus wasn’t simply worried about his own skin. I’d already experienced first hand what problems a bunch of ambitious Order witches could create. The wrong person in charge could set the whole place alight – and not in a good way. Those witches needed a strong hand and, despite what had gone on in the past, I did believe the man in front of me was that person.
I pushed back my hair. ‘I can do this,’ I told him. ‘I will do this.’
The Ipsissimus reached over and took my hands. ‘I believe you. It might not come to your sacrifice—’
‘But if it does, I know what to do. Give me the incantation.’
He released his hold on me and reached inside his coat, drawing out a rolled-up scroll. He handed it over without a word; he was sensible enough not to express his thanks. I wasn’t a martyr just yet. I took the scroll from him and stuffed it down my dress. The paper was itchy against my skin but at least the leather corset was enough to manage to conceal the bulge.
‘I need to find the other Order witches. We’re going to try to triangulate our magic to see if we can locate any power surges in the area. It’s a long shot but we have to try something.’ The Ipsissimus passed a hand over his eyes. ‘This is so fucked up.’
Startled by his swearing, I flashed him a smile. ‘Hey, it’ll be fine. We’ll find out who the necromancer is and turn them into a corpse long before I need this. No problemo.’
He didn’t smile back. ‘I’m counting on you.’ He paused. ‘We all are.’
Chapter Nineteen
I gave myself a moment after the Ipsissimus left and then, telling myself that it was only because I had to save the world, I made my way outside. Both Brutus and Winter were there, seemingly in the middle of some kind of argument.
‘She needs peace, Brutus. She needs to sleep.’
‘Food.’
‘I’ll get you food. Just let me check on Ivy and then I’ll find you some tuna or something.’
Brutus yawned and raised a paw in my direction. ‘Food.’
I shrugged at him. ‘I don’t have any. I’d suggest you go to your new friend for some but I suppose he’s still being interrogated.’
Winter turned in surprise then gave an irritated frown when he saw me. ‘You need to lie down. I can handle the investigation.’
I smiled at him. ‘I’m not going to let you steal all the glory, buster. Not after all this work.’
He wasn’t appeased by my light-hearted answer. ‘I won’t have you collapsing on me, Ivy. You look bloody awful.’
‘Well, thank you very much.’
He gritted his teeth. ‘It’s not a criticism.’
I crossed my arms. ‘It sounded like it.’ I couldn’t let Winter bundle me back off to bed. Not now. ‘You keep complaining that I’m too lazy. Now I’m taking action and you’re still complaining. I can’t win.’
He drew in a breath as if unsure of himself. ‘I’m worried about you.’
I waved an airy hand around, hoping I didn’t look as nauseous or exhausted as I felt. ‘I’m absolutely fine.’ I pulled my shoulders back. ‘We can’t hang around. We have to find who’s behind this.’
Winter’s eyes narrowed. ‘You must have hit your head. This definitely isn’t the Ivy Wilde I know.’ I let out a fake laugh, which only served to increase Winter’s suspicions. ‘What’s going on, Ivy? What exactly did the Ipsissimus want?’
I had a ready-made answer – and one which I was sure would prevent Winter from probing further. ‘He asked me to join the Order. Said that I’d done enough to prove myself and that I’d be welcomed in with open arms. I wouldn’t even have to begin at Neophyte again.’
He stared. ‘And you want to do this? I thought you were determined not to go near the Order with a barge pole.’
‘I am. And that’s exactly what I told him. He said that if I helped you find the necromancer and put a stop to his crimes, he would leave me in peace.’
Of course there was no logic to what I’d just said. That was why I reckoned it would work. If I came up with a more rational reason for not hiding under a duvet when I’d been given permission to do just that, Winter would continue to question what I was doing. Instead, he’d spend so much time puzzling about it that he’d stop asking.
Just in case, I rushed ahead. ‘We need to go and speak to Bellows. If Belinda and her vial have been ruled out, he’s the only other person who’s got any reason to be dodgy.’ My mouth flattened into a grim line. ‘And from those photos, he’s dodgy as hell.’ I s
wung a side look at Winter. ‘Has Belinda said anything about them?’
He was silent for a moment, as if he still wanted to ask more about the Ipsissimus and my reasons for springing up from my sick bed. Fortunately, his inner investigator took over. ‘Our focus was on the vial. The photos, distasteful as they are, don’t seem pertinent to necromancy.’
‘No,’ I agreed. ‘But they are pertinent to being a bastard.’ I still didn’t think Bellows was the bastard witch we were looking for but there were few other options at this point. ‘Where’s Tarquin?’
Winter stilled. ‘Why?’
‘He’s obviously good friends with Moonbeam. I imagine he has insights into all this which we can only guess at.’
Winter was only slightly appeased. ‘Unless he’s gone with the others, Tarquin’s probably around here somewhere. Many witches are. They’re using tracking spells to see if they can work out where the zombie came from.’ His expression was grim. ‘Not to mention making sure there aren’t any more of the damn things anywhere.’
I frowned. ‘Gone where with the others? What others?’
‘Other than Armstrong, everyone else in the crew has been shipped back to Tomintoul. No matter what Armstrong wants, it’s pretty certain that Enchantment is finished.’
‘Rampaging zombies are just a bit too much even for reality television?’
‘It appears so.’
I sniffed. After what had happened to Benjamin Alberts, they were lucky that no one else had died. Yet. All the same, it was a bit of a shame that my television career was probably over before it had barely started. I wondered if they’d use the footage of me after I died saving the world. I shouldn’t have played the bitchy role like Barry wanted me to; post-mortem montages of yours truly would be much more effective if I looked like I was a nice person. Oh well.
Then a thought struck me. ‘Wait a minute,’ I said slowly. ‘Everyone involved with Enchantment apart from Armstrong is back in Tomintoul?’
