by Helen Harper
‘I’m doing well,’ I told him. I risked a glance back. The scary half-faced woman had vanished. Breathing deeply, I swallowed and wasted no time in getting to the point. This place was seriously creeping me out. ‘But I need a bit of help.’
Maidmont’s eyes widened. ‘Of course! I’ll do anything you want. You’ve become a bit of a hero around here. It would be my honour to help you. Although,’ he added anxiously, ‘you don’t want me to set fire to anything again, do you?’
I forced a smile. ‘No. It’s … er…’ I scratched my neck awkwardly. ‘I could do with some help with research.’
He beamed. In fact, I’d say that he positively glowed. ‘Yes. Yes! What in particular? I came across a wonderful old book tucked away just this morning that details the healing properties of rabbit dung when mixed with…’
‘Er, no,’ I interrupted hastily. The bunnies could keep their poo. ‘I need to know about the side-effects of necromancy.’
Maidmont’s face immediately dropped. ‘Necromancy?’ He shook his head in dismay. ‘Oh no, Ivy. No, you can’t. I know what you did up in Scotland and I know you stopped that boy. But you can’t dabble in that kind of magic. It almost destroyed him – and you. You can’t think…’
‘Hush,’ I said. ‘I don’t want to perform necromancy. I don’t want anything to do with it. But something weird has been happening to me.’ I dropped my gaze. ‘I’m seeing strange things and I need to find out if there’s something wrong with me. Even better, if there’s a way to stop what’s happening.’
Maidmont drew himself up. ‘Strange things? What kind of strange things?’
I shifted from foot to foot. ‘The details aren’t important. But any information you have about any side-effects…’ I paused and swallowed ‘…and if I’m liable to become a danger to myself or to anyone around me, would be – helpful.’ Understatement of the year.
‘Danger?’ He shook his head vigorously. ‘Unless you’re performing necromantic magic, there can be no risk to anyone.’ He gave me a searching look as if to ask if that’s what I was doing. The trouble was that I didn’t know.
‘I’m not deliberately performing anything.’ My voice sank to a whisper. ‘But I might be using necromancy subconsciously. Either that, or I'm going crazy.’
Maidmont seemed relieved. ‘That’s impossible. You can’t accidentally cast spells. Look at the boy who did all this in the first place – Alistair, wasn’t it? He required blood to do what he did. It’s a very deliberate action and takes considerable power.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘I’m positive.’
‘So I’m nuts then.’ I wrinkled my nose. I suppose insanity was slightly better than turning evil and being able to destroy the entire country in one fell swoop. Slightly. The costume didn’t have the same potential, though.
Maidmont arched an eyebrow. ‘Tell me what you’re experiencing.’
I pressed my lips together. ‘I could tell you,’ I said, ‘but then I’d have to kill you.’
‘Not funny. Ivy, I can’t help you look for information until I know what information I should be looking for.’
Damn. I didn’t want to drag the poor guy into this but I needed to know. And not just for my own sake. ‘I think…’ I sighed. I was just going to have to come straight out with it. ‘I think I’m seeing ghosts.’ There.
Maidmont stared at me. ‘Huh?’
Yep. This was kind of how I’d expected the conversation to go. ‘I’m seeing ghosts,’ I repeated. ‘Not like Casper. They’re not wearing white sheets or anything like that. They just look like regular people but I think they’re – dead. Most of them aren’t in the slightest bit friendly. Not that I’d be feeling sociable if I were dead, but I’m just saying. They never ask me how my day is going, they just complain or tut or yell. I wish they wouldn’t. I wish they’d go away. So, Philip, you can see why I’m kind of concerned. I absorbed necromantic magic to stop Scotland from exploding and now I’m communing with the dead. I’d like to know if I’m going to explode and how I can stop them appearing. Or at the very least from tutting. There’s only so much censure a girl can take.’
Maidmont kept on staring at me, his mouth hanging open slightly. There was a shred of green caught in his teeth. It might have been lettuce but I wasn’t sure and this probably wasn’t the time to point it out. ‘Ghosts are tutting at you?’ he asked finally.
I shrugged. ‘Or tsking. To be honest, I’ve never been sure about the difference between a tut and a tsk. I think the last ghost might have been tutting at you for dropping all those books rather than at me.’ I hesitated. ‘But I kind of made you drop the books by surprising you, so I guess she was getting at me by default.’ I forced a smile.
Maidmont still hadn’t blinked. Concerned that his eyeballs might dry out and I’d be responsible for him going blind, I reached out and shook his shoulder. ‘Hello? Philip?’
‘Uh … let’s sit down,’ he said weakly. Then his legs gave way and he sank down onto the floor rather than looking around for a chair. I shrugged; it worked for me. I joined him, crossing my legs and resting my chin on my hands while Maidmont tried to recover.
After what seemed an age, he nodded almost imperceptibly and looked at me. ‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘I’m just a bit – surprised. I believe you, though. I’ve never heard of anything like this before and, working here, I’ve heard a lot of odd things. Why don’t you start from the beginning?’
I gazed into the distance. ‘The very beginning? It started in Scotland. Right after I took the kid’s magic from him, I saw a floating head. It spoke to me.’ I twisted my fingers in my lap. ‘It was Benjamin Alberts, the Enchantment contestant who’d died. At the time, I was in so much pain that I passed out. Afterwards, I assumed it had just been my imagination or something to do with the trauma of what was happening. Afterwards, though, in the hospital when I woke up…’ My voice drifted off.
‘Go on,’ Maidmont said quietly. There was no censure in his tone and his expression suggested nothing except encouragement.
I heaved in a breath. ‘There were lots of them. People, I mean. None of them looked healthy.’ Images of gaunt old men and bloodied children flickered through my head. My stomach twisted with sudden nausea and I glanced at Maidmont. ‘I was on heavy painkillers,’ I said, doing my best to find a rational explanation. ‘Morphine and stuff like that, so everything was a bit dreamy. But they kept coming in and talking to me. I thought they were real to begin with, but it didn’t take long to work out that no one else could see them.’ I gave a short, humourless laugh. ‘I asked one woman, who wandered in and demanded to know where her baby was, if she’d spoken to one of the nurses. Winter was there at the time and he answered me. Then he stepped back and passed right through her as if she were nothing more than air. She looked annoyed, then she just vanished. Right in front of my eyes.’
Maidmont cleared his throat. ‘And what makes you think they’re ghosts and not just hallucinations? Because you had a few of those, didn’t you?’
‘I had one,’ I replied flatly. ‘One hallucination caused by the kid’s magic. And it was of a bloodstain.’ I shuddered. ‘What I’m seeing now is nothing like that. I thought maybe they’d disappear if I pretended they weren’t there. I thought maybe I was going crazy. But I think cats sense them too.’ I told him about Brutus, Princess and Harold and the way they’d avoided Cobweb Lady.
‘It’s been two months since Scotland and they won’t go away. There’s a woman who all but lives in my damned flat. There was a red-robed guy outside, with the bushiest beard and moustache that I’ve seen in my life, who talked like he’d come from another century. His eyes were yellow! Who the hell has yellow eyes? Not to mention the woman here in the library I already mentioned. They’re everywhere, Philip. And they keep talking to me.’ I met his eyes. ‘Am I going crazy? Or is the necromancy I absorbed taking me over?’
Maidmont’s face was still very pale. ‘The man outside, the one with the beard. Can you describe
him in more detail?’
I scratched my head and did my best. As Maidmont listened, the young woman with half a face reappeared. She crouched down and stared at him. ‘He has something stuck in his teeth,’ she declared. ‘It’s disgusting. In my day, librarians paid far more attention to their personal hygiene. No one likes to be breathed on by someone who still has their lunch hanging out of their mouth.’
I ignored her and continued talking. When I finished, Maidmont nodded and stood up, brushing invisible dirt off his robes. ‘We should go,’ he said. There was an unusually decisive air about him.
My eyes widened. ‘Go where?’ I asked.
‘The dentist would be a good idea,’ the woman said.
Maidmont pursed his lips. ‘Just come with me. There’s something we should check first.’
I slowly got to my feet. Maybe he was going to drag me off to the loony bin – or stab me in the back before I became an uncontrollable necromancer.
‘It’ll be fine, Ivy,’ he said reassuringly. ‘Trust me.’
‘You should never trust anyone who doesn’t floss,’ the woman said.
I nodded to Maidmont. ‘Okay. Let’s go.’ I gave Half Face a fleeting look. She was really creeping me out. ‘Quickly.’
Chapter Two
Maidmont led me out of the library. Unfortunately the rain had stopped and there were more witches around than before. I scooted behind him, using his thin frame to try and hide myself. ‘What are you doing?’ he asked.
‘Skulking,’ I whispered. ‘I can do without someone recognising me and stopping for a chat.’
I could hear the smile in his voice. ‘Don’t worry,’ he assured me. ‘We’re not going far.’ He stepped off the path to avoid the oncoming people and I shuffled gratefully along behind him. Frankly, it was nice to walk with someone who didn’t march around as if they were in a competition with Time itself. I started to relax – until I realised where Maidmont was taking me.
‘Whoa! I’m not going in there!’ I said, shaking my head at the main Order building. I swivelled on my toes and started walking in the opposite direction.
Maidmont trotted to catch up with me. ‘Why on earth not?’
‘The Ipsissimus will be in there! He’s the last person I want to know about this! At least until I have a handle on things.’ Or, I added silently, until I’d spoken to Winter first. Going to Maidmont for help was one thing; going to the Ipsissimus behind Winter’s back was entirely different.
‘We’re not going to see him,’ Maidmont said. ‘There’s something in there I want you to look at.’
I shook my head. ‘No way. I’m going back home.’ Where I should have stayed in the first place. I pulled away from him and picked up my feet, determined to get as far away from the Order as possible. Then I saw Tarquin ambling out of one of the far buildings and heading towards me. Damn.
I spun around once more. Maidmont squinted, apparently baffled by my repeated changes of direction. Truth be told, I was starting to feel rather dizzy myself. I thought mournfully of my sofa. I should have stayed there. Who cared if I could converse with the dead? If they stuck around long enough, maybe I’d find out something useful from them. Not like who really assassinated JFK or what happened to Lord Lucan; I was thinking more along the lines of how to train them to do my bidding so they could work for me while I stayed at home and conserved my strength.
‘The Ipsissimus will be locked away in his study, Ivy. We’re just going to the main hall.’
I didn’t think Tarquin had seen me; all the same, I felt his presence looming behind me. He was simply too irritating to deal with. I’d managed to avoid bumping into him at home, which was impressive given that he now lived in my apartment building. The last thing I needed now was to listen to him crowing about his heroics. I had a loose enough grip on my own sanity as it was, thank you very much.
‘Promise?’
‘Cross my heart.’
Maidmont had barely finished speaking when there was a loud caw from a nearby tree. I jumped. Whatever bird it was, I couldn’t see it. ‘Was that a raven?’ I asked suspiciously.
‘I’m sure it wasn’t.’
I gave him a sidelong look. At least he had the sense to look slightly nervous. Ravens were harbingers of all things doom-related and both of us knew it. Maybe it was a sparrow with a sore throat. All the same, Maidmont and I walked a bit faster and without speaking. It was probably wise to get whatever we were going to do out of the way as quickly as possible.
We entered the building through the main doors, watched by several witches who were in the lobby on security duty. This wasn’t the time to continue trying to hide – that would make them more inclined to try and stop us. To make our entry as smooth as possible, I stepped out from behind Maidmont and lifted my head. I have to admit that the looks of respect I received were rather gratifying. Yes, I had saved the country from an influx of zombies. Yes, I had almost martyred myself in the process. Go me.
Maidmont murmured something to the nearest witch and received a small bow in response, then we walked past them and up the first flight of stairs. Despite the guards, we were still on public property; any witch could gain access to this level. When Maidmont veered away from the next set of stairs, I breathed a sigh of relief. He definitely wasn’t marching me up to the Ipsissimus.
Maidmont stopped in the middle of the corridor, in front of one of the many old paintings that lined the walls. Pointing at it, he sent me an enquiring glance. I looked at it and for the briefest moment, my heart stopped.
‘That’s him.’ I stared as the yellow-eyed man with too much hair gazed back at me from the portrait. No wonder he looked so familiar – I’d probably passed that damned painting several times. ‘That’s the man I saw outside the library.’
Maidmont’s eyes closed briefly. ‘When you mentioned the colour of his eyes, I thought this might be him.’
I read the small card next to the painting. Ipsissimus Grenville, 1742–1803. Well, he was definitely dead then.
‘I never liked this painting.’
I jerked and swung round. The man in question was standing next to me. I gave a small shriek and scooted away. It was one thing to think I was seeing ghosts; it was another to have that thought confirmed.
Grenville frowned at me. ‘Death isn’t contagious, you know. I might have died from consumption but I’m reasonably certain that you cannot catch it from my spirit.’
I clutched Maidmont’s arm. ‘You can’t see him, can you?’
The librarian went a shade paler. ‘See who?’
‘Grenville,’ I whispered. ‘He’s standing right next to me. He doesn’t like his picture.’
‘Everything I’ve read suggests it’s a very good likeness.’
Grenville’s ghost rose up, hovering about a foot off the ground. He lunged for Maidmont, stopping short of his face so he could glower at him. ‘It looks nothing like me,’ he hissed. ‘The nose is out of proportion.’
I swallowed. As far as I could tell, the bulbous end and flaring nostrils were totally accurate but somehow I didn’t think it would be wise to say that. ‘He didn’t mean it,’ I said hastily. ‘Besides, he’s never seen you in person. It’s not his fault.’
Maidmont’s eyes widened. ‘You’re not talking to me, are you?’ His fingers twitched at his robe. ‘I … I … could be mistaken about the resemblance. It’s a very old painting.’ He leaned over to me and lowered his voice. ‘Have any of these ghosts ever touched you?’
‘No,’ I replied, not sure why we were whispering. Grenville could obviously hear every word. ‘But, as I said, none of them are very happy.’
Maidmont swallowed and began to back away from me.
‘Of course we’re not happy, you idiot girl!’ Grenville snapped. ‘Would you be happy? Instead of enjoying the afterlife, we’re stuck here and you’re the only person who seems to be able to hear us. I’ve waited over two hundred years to talk to someone with breath still inside them and when it finally happens I ge
t you. It’s bad enough that you’re a woman. What on earth are you wearing?’
I folded my arms. ‘Hey, buster. You’re going to have to start being a bit more polite if you want me to continue listening to you.’
Grenville rolled his eyes then his head jerked up and he looked over my shoulder. ‘For goodness’ sake,’ he tutted. ‘Now this idiot is coming.’ He wagged his finger at me. ‘I need to talk, Missy, and you need to listen. Midnight tonight.’ He glared at me with those spooky eyes. ‘I expect you to be here.’ And with that he vanished from view.
I sagged in relief. Unfortunately it didn’t last long. The ‘idiot’ Grenville referred to strode up to me. The friendly smile on his face didn’t make me feel any better. ‘Ms Wilde. How lovely to see you.’
I grimaced weakly at Ipsissimus Collings, the living, breathing Ipsissimus Collings. ‘Hey.’ Then I frowned at Maidmont and he offered a helpless shrug.
‘Sorry,’ he mouthed.
‘I presume you’re here to see me,’ the Ipsissimus said. ‘Has Adeptus Exemptus Winter come to his senses and decided to return to the fold?’
‘If he had,’ I said, ‘then he’d be here himself.’
I received a faint furrowing of the brow in response. ‘Indeed. So why are you here?’
‘She’s seeing ghosts!’ Maidmont blurted out. ‘Ever since she took away the necromantic magic from the boy! It’s obviously a side-effect. Something must be done!’ His eyes swung wildly between us. ‘I’ve already offended Grenville. They’re going to be after me! I…’
I put what was supposed to be a reassuring hand on Maidmont’s arm. He jerked away in fright. So much for a bit of quiet research on the side; my secret was out.
The Ipsissimus raised his eyebrows. ‘Ghosts? Are you quite sure, Ms Wilde?’
‘Nope, not sure at all. In fact, the more I think about it, the more I’m sure they’re just residual hallucinations. I should probably go home and lie down with a cold compress.’
