The Lazy Girl's Guide To Magic : The Complete Series

by Helen Harper

  I folded my arms and drew myself up, while puffing out my chest and feeling an angry ripple shudder through me. There could only be one reason why the Angel had gone missing: somebody was trying to scupper Winter’s reign as Ipsissimus. Despite everything that had gone before, he still had his detractors. Well, they hadn't banked on me by his side. I would not let anyone hurt him. I didn't want pus-filled pustules on my skin or fiery volcanoes exploding on top of me, but those were beside the point. I was going to find the Angel, find who took it and save the day, dammit. Besides, if I could become the hero of the hour then surely I'd be able to wriggle out of this Santa’s grotto disaster in which I was extricated.

  ‘You look angry,’ Winter observed.

  ‘I am angry! But don't worry, I will find this Angel and I will stop the curse, whatever it may be. And I will make sure that no one, witch or otherwise, even thinks about ruining my first Christmas with you. I want you and me alone on the sofa watching It’s A Wonderful Life and eating turkey and chocolate. Not necessarily turkey and chocolate at the same time but it’s something we could think about. Both are good.’ I didn’t even pause for breath. I was on a roll. ‘There will be mistletoe. There will be snuggles. There will not be evil witches causing curse-filled mishaps and interrupting our holiday.’ I glared at him for full effect. ‘Got that?’ I demanded.

  Winter held up his hands and took a step back. ‘You're a scary lady, Ivy Wilde.’

  I raised an eyebrow. ‘Scary?’ I scoffed and scrunched up my nose. ‘You ain't seen nothing yet.’

  Chapter Five

  I was halfway to the train station when I realised that I’d been so diverted by Winter that I had forgotten to check the train timetable. There were some days when I really missed being a taxi driver.

  Despite my pleas to the contrary, my driving licence had been revoked as a result of speeding. I tried to point out that speeding was out character and that I preferred to take things slowly; in fact, the only reason I’d been speeding at all was to stop a serial killer in his dastardly tracks. My words fell on deaf ears, however, and I was now forced to rely on public transport or the goodwill of others to get around. Normally it wasn't an issue; it was easy for me to prevail upon witches of various Levels to drive me to where I wanted to go. But this time I was going it alone. If this really was a plan to destabilise Winter, I didn't want any witnesses when I smooshed the perpetrator into the December-frosted pavements. And smoosh them I would.

  Unfortunately, when I finally arrived at Oxford’s railway station the train I wanted was already pulling out of the station. Letting out a small shriek of alarm, I did the only thing that I could.

  On the far side of the embankment, and just beyond the platform itself, stood several pretty trees. Given that this mission was a result of a Christmas tree having almost fallen on top of me, I didn't feel bad about sending out a surreptitious rune in the direction of the nearest oak and causing its trunk to snap so that the tree careened onto the train tracks with a heavy thud. There. Magic might not affect the technology of trains but that didn’t mean I didn’t have plenty of tricks up my sleeve to get them to do what I wanted.

  A moment later the train came to a juddering halt and it dawned on me that it had been pulling into the station rather than leaving it. All I’d succeeded in doing was delaying its departure. Oops.

  There were several gasps of horror from the hovering commuters and two station guards rushed over and gazed in dismay at the blocked railway line. I coughed awkwardly and sidled up.

  ‘I don’t understand,’ the older one was saying. ‘There’s not been a breath of wind all day.’

  I winced.

  ‘Those trees were planted by the great engineer, Isambard Kingdom Brunel!’ the other guard said. ‘They’re part of our heritage! They’ve stood there for close to two hundred years. I can’t believe one has fallen down.’

  To be fair, there were still two left. All the same, I felt distinctly crappy. I cleared my throat. ‘Uh, I can help.’

  They both turned to me and I noted a flicker of recognition in the older guard’s eyes. ‘You’re that witch,’ he said. ‘The one shagging the new Hippopotamus.’

  ‘Ipsissimus,’ I said helpfully.

  He frowned slightly. ‘That’s not a word. The leader of the witches is the Hippopotamus.’

  I opened my mouth to argue then decided the effort simply wasn’t worth it. If he thought he was the magical witchsplaining expert in this conversation then that was up to him. ‘Whatever. Look, I can help you with this.’

  Both guards brightened. ‘You can?’

  ‘Sure,’ I said easily, inwardly cursing at landing myself in this situation. I glanced over at the fallen tree and sucked in a breath before performing a quick double-runed spell. There was a vast creak and the tree uprighted itself.

  I focused carefully, using magic not only to return it to its original position but also to transplant back its living cells. There was no guarantee it would work; returning what was essentially dead back to a state of being alive was impossible with fauna and almost impossible with flora. But with the correct concentration and effort, I could just about knit the broken tree back together. Only time would tell if I’d succeeded but, given this was my fault, I had to try even if the spell left me feeling weak and gasping for air.

  ‘That was amazing,’ whispered the older guard, his eyes wide.

  His companion stared at me. ‘Are you okay? You’re looking rather green.’

  I clutched his arm for support. ‘I’m fine,’ I wheezed. ‘I’ll do anything for the environment. And for the railways. It’s for the good of us all.’ It took just about everything I had not to keel over. I raised my other hand and pointed at the train. ‘I’m supposed to be on that.’

  ‘We’ll arrange a first-class seat for you straight away!’ he exclaimed.

  ‘A cup of tea would be great too,’ I murmured.

  ‘No problem.’

  ‘And some chocolate biscuits. They help with the, uh, recovery.’

  He gave me a benevolent twinkle. ‘You can have whatever you like. You’ve really saved our bacon by sorting out that tree. It would be chaos otherwise and you’ve no idea how cross people get when there are delays. It’s our lucky day that you were here.’

  Lucky indeed. I looked up to see a disapproving male ghost wearing what looked like a nineteenth-century suit. Hopefully it wasn’t old Isambard himself. Hastily muttering that I needed to sit down, I avoided his gaze and made my way onto the train.

  The tea and biscuits helped. By the time I arrived at Banbury half an hour later, I’d managed to stuff several small packets into my pockets and was feeling more like myself.

  It was just as well that Iqbal’s new workplace was close to the station because I wouldn’t have made it otherwise. There was still a distinct wobbly feeling in my legs but that might have been the sugar hit. All the same, I told myself to stop playing around and start acting like the witch I was supposed to be, not the witch I was.

  I found my old friend in a small windowless office, buried under what seemed to be a mountain of paper. I wasn’t the only one whose life had changed dramatically in recent months. With his thesis finally finished, Iqbal had found gainful employment with the Arcane Historical Society. None of us were certain what he did – I didn’t think that even he knew – but he’d landed on his feet. While it might be annoying that the society members maintained arcane standards and avoided technology as if they were witches themselves – which was why I’d had to travel here rather than simply telephoning – Iqbal’s office was deep in the bowels of the building so he was rarely disturbed. He managed to spend most of his days reading. In fact, he was so intent on whatever ancient document he was attempting to decipher that he didn’t notice me until I called out a chirpy hello. Then he leapt up out of his chair in shock, almost tripping over the nearest pile of dusty books.

  Clasping his hand to his heart, he stared at me. ‘Flipping hell, Ivy! You scared the life out
of me. Don’t you knock?’

  I shrugged. ‘The door was open.’

  He peered at me more closely. ‘Are you alright? You don’t look well.’

  ‘I had to perform an elaborate spell to get a tree off the railway lines. Essentially I re-rooted it.’ Boom boom.

  Iqbal blinked. ‘Seriously? A tree fell down and you bespelled it alive?’

  ‘I think so.’ I was keen to get off this subject. I reached over, narrowly avoiding his wastepaper basket which didn’t look as if it had been emptied since the Victorians opened this society, and gave him a hug. ‘It’s good to see you. I don’t have long though. I’m on a mission.’

  He grinned at me. ‘Sounds fun.’

  More fun than Santa’s grotto. Death by a thousand cuts would be more fun that that. I held up my hands. ‘Look.’

  He leaned forward. ‘What?’

  ‘My fingers are being worked to the bone.’

  Iqbal snorted. ‘You need to get Winter to take you away for a holiday. Somewhere warm and exotic.’

  ‘I think he’s booked one for some time around the year 2050.’ I smirked. ‘Don’t worry though. I’m working on it.’

  He punched me lightly on the arm. ‘That’s my girl. Anyway, what can I do for you? I assume you’re here because you need my help yet again.’

  ‘I need to know everything I can about an object called the Angel of the Order.’

  He bowed with a dramatic flourish. ‘Then, my darling, follow me. You can fill me in along the way.’

  ‘Thanks, Iqqy.’ I reached into my pocket and pulled out some biscuits. ‘And I even brought snacks.’

  We ended up in a long room filled with row upon row of filing cabinets. Instead of opening the first one marked with the letter A, however, Iqbal made a beeline for the Ts.

  ‘Is this right?’ I asked.

  ‘Yes,’ he replied easily. ‘The Society’s filing system is, um, unusual. It takes a while to figure it out.’

  I squinted. ‘So why T?’

  ‘You’re looking for information on an object that belongs to the Order. All Order files are kept under T.’

  ‘T for…’

  ‘Twats,’ Iqbal said, without looking up.

  ‘Hey!’ I protested. ‘That’s not fair!’

  He pulled out a slim manila folder and smirked. ‘My, you really have drunk the Kool Aid, haven’t you?’

  ‘I…’ Damn it. ‘Yes. Yes, I have.’

  He patted me on the shoulder. ‘It happens to the best of us.’ He flipped open the folder and we scanned the first sheet. ‘Well, it’s valuable, alright,’ Iqbal commented. ‘And old.’

  ‘Ancient. It’s been around for even longer than Grenville has, and that’s saying something.’ I tapped a paragraph towards the bottom. ‘I don’t read Latin. What does this say?’

  Iqbal frowned and bit his lip as he translated. I could tell the moment he’d worked it out because he paled dramatically and snapped the folder shut. ‘Maybe you should get Winter to take you on that holiday now, Ivy.’

  ‘Iq…’ I wagged my finger in warning.

  He sighed. ‘Fine. But you’re not going to like it.’ He cleared his throat. ‘If the Angel is removed from the Hallowed Order of Magical Enlightenment, then the earth shall be rent open, fire shall spew forth, the witches shall be afflicted with disease and magic itself will be forever cursed.’

  I absorbed this. ‘So,’ I said slowly, ‘fiery volcanoes and green pustules.’

  Iqbal nodded. ‘Effectively.’

  ‘Maybe it’s talking about a different angel. Maybe there are lots of valuable silver angels hanging around the Order.’

  ‘Sure. I’m sure there are hundreds. Thousands. There’s no chance that this angel is the same as the one that’s gone missing.’

  I ran a hand through my hair and slumped. ‘We’re all doomed, aren’t we?’

  He beamed at me. ‘Yep.’

  Iqbal took me back to the main entrance to show me out. I was just about to take my leave when a familiar figure walked in, shaking out her shiny brown hair. Her face lit up when she caught sight of Iqbal and then her cheeks turned bright red when she noticed me.

  ‘I—Ivy!’ Eve stammered. ‘What are you doing here?’

  The last thing I wanted to do was panic her with tales of the witchy apocalypse. ‘Research,’ I said smoothly. ‘On Christmas traditions.’ Sort of. ‘You?’

  She licked her lips. ‘I’m doing research as well. On witch–human relations.’

  I nodded sagely. ‘Well, have fun. I’ve gotta dash.’

  I nipped out of the door, then darted to the side where I couldn’t be seen and pressed against the wall. After waiting for a beat or two, I peered back in, grinning to myself before using up the last vestiges of magic left inside me to cast a quick rune and create the illusion of a sprig of mistletoe. It wasn’t as if the Arcane Historical Society had any other decorations to boast of. Just to be sure that one of my sneaky friends noticed it, I gave it a little magical shake. Iqbal glanced up and, when the smile spread across his face, I knew. A heartbeat later he was locking lips with Eve. He was at least half a foot shorter than her and they were as much opposites as Winter and me. Apart from their mutual hearts of gold.

  I allowed myself a tiny inner squeal of happiness. If this was the end of the world as we knew it, at least we’d all die happy.

  Chapter Six

  Given that initially I’d been trying to stop someone from making life difficult for Winter and that I was now attempting to avert an actual apocalypse, I was feeling remarkably chipper. Maybe it wasn’t just my giddiness at seeing Eve and Iqbal get it on; maybe I was also being infected by the holiday spirit. I might not have worn the Santa suit for long but it could have rubbed some Christmas magic onto me. I wouldn’t put it past Maidmont to have imbued the fabric with some kind of happy-making spell. If that were the case, of course, then it was even more miserable being St Nick than I’d already experienced. The real Santa certainly had a cushy enough life though – I wouldn’t mind only working one day a year. Assuming I wasn’t swallowed by the earth. Perhaps I’d suggest it to Winter later.

  With that thought in mind, I made my way back hastily to the Order, avoiding any more interaction with trains or trees at the station. I had good reason now to involve as many witches as possible in locating the Angel. Certainly Abigail and the other Neophytes who’d been dressing the tree knew about the Angel’s disappearance so they were already panicked. I didn’t have to worry about worrying those who were already worried. I turned that over in my head a few times; it made sense to me.

  Munching on another biscuit as I walked, I followed the nearest pale-faced witch. Before too long I found myself faced with a large group of them.

  ‘Ivy!’ Abigail dashed over to me. ‘You’re still here! We’ve been searching and we can’t find the Angel anywhere.’ She pointed behind her. ‘Adam found its box but it’s empty apart from some odd gunk.’

  Smoothing my features to make myself appear as brisk and business-like as possible, I glanced over at the box and then at Abigail. ‘Odd gunk?’ Odd gunk was never innocent.

  Adam, another Neophyte who looked about the same age as Abigail, pointed. I squinted. There was a small clump of something brown, dried and crusty. It wasn’t much and it wasn’t pretty. I leaned over to get closer and gave it a cautious sniff. There was a faint fishy odour but I couldn’t detect anything else.

  ‘Perhaps,’ Adam interjected helpfully, ‘the thief left this as a calling card.’

  ‘A little pile of dried goo?’ I could think of more elegant ways of leaving your mark. ‘Was the box open or closed when you found it?’

  He bit his lip. ‘Open.’

  ‘So this odd gunk might be mouse droppings.’

  He shook his head. ‘No. Mouse droppings look more like grains of rice.’

  I gave him a long look. ‘First of all, mouse droppings were just an example of how anything could have fallen, or been deposited, into the Angel’s box. S
econd of all, how do you know so much about mouse poo?’

  Adam’s eyes lit up. ‘We’ve been using it in our herblore studies. Apparently if you combine mouse droppings with some dried rosemary and—’

  I held up my hands. I really didn’t want to know. ‘Has anyone done a tracing spell?’ I enquired. ‘You know, to see who’s been near the Angel recently and provide a shadow of what’s past?’

  The expression on Abigail’s face told me what I didn’t want to hear. ‘Several of us. We even combined our magic to give it a shot. Nothing came up. And of course we have no way of knowing when the Angel was stolen. It might have been the first week of January for all we know.’

  It wasn’t likely, given that the curse had not kicked in yet, but it was a nice thought. I gave her a reassuring smile. ‘I’m sure it will turn up but let’s put all our efforts into finding it. Where is the Angel normally kept when it’s not on top of a tree?’

  ‘The Antiquities department.’ Abigail paused. ‘We’ve been over it from top to bottom. The Angel’s definitely not lurking in some corner.’

  I considered this. ‘Is anything else missing?’

  Abigail’s eyes went wide. ‘Like what?’

  ‘I don’t know. But perhaps the Angel was just the subject of a random theft. If that’s the case, other things might have been stolen too.’

  She straightened. ‘We didn’t think to check. I’ll send a group back over there now.’

  ‘Good.’ I tapped my mouth thoughtfully. ‘Have most witches heard of the curse?’