by Helen Harper
‘Let’s go to my office.’ I knew it wasn’t a suggestion. Tough; I wasn’t his to order around.
I stepped back. ‘No.’ I looked at Maidmont, who was beginning to cower. ‘It would be helpful if you could find out what exactly is going on and if this means I’m about to become Oxford’s next necromancer. But the only place I’m going right now is home.’
The Ipsissimus tightened his mouth. ‘Ms Wilde…’
I held up a palm. ‘I like you,’ I said. ‘I think you’re a good guy. I think you mean well. But I didn’t come here to see you, I came here to get some research done about my current … condition. You have to understand that my allegiance is to Winter. Until I’ve spoken to him, I’m not going to speak to you. I don’t yet feel the need to drain any sheep of their blood or attempt to raise the undead, so I’m going to assume that I’m not a danger to anyone. For now that will have to be enough.’ I turned, half expecting to be body slammed to the ground at any moment.
‘Ivy, wait!’ It was Maidmont.
Still irritated by his fickleness, I glanced over my shoulder. ‘What?’
‘Don’t try any spells, not until I’ve had a chance to research what’s happening to you. Spells of any sort might be a bad idea if it is necromantic magic in your system.’
I grimaced. Fabulous.
‘Alistair has been asking after you,’ the Ipsissimus called, referring to the original teenage necromancer.
I couldn’t imagine why. All the same, I paused. ‘Is he alright?’
‘He’s doing well, all things considered. His brother Gareth is with him. I believe they are repairing their relationship and coming to terms with everything that has happened. They’d both appreciate seeing a familiar face.’
‘I’m sure they would,’ I said softly. And then I got the hell out of there while I still could.
***
By the time I got home, Winter was back. He was sitting on the sofa with Brutus and looking deceptively casual. That would be fine for anyone else, but Winter didn’t do casual. At least there was no sign of Cobweb Lady.
‘You’ve been out,’ he said.
I walked over and planted a sloppy kiss on his lips. ‘I have.’
His eyes met mine. Not for the first time, I felt myself being sucked into their deep blue depths. ‘I bumped into Villeneuve. He was sure he’d seen you at the Order. But that would be impossible – there’s no way you’d be at the Order.’ He raised a single questioning eyebrow.
I looked down. ‘I was there. I’m sorry.’
Winter reached over and tilted my chin upwards. ‘I’m not your keeper, Ivy. You’re free to do whatever you want – and I don’t think I could stop you from doing something if you put your mind to it. Yes, I would like to know why you were there. And no, I don’t think you should be running around Oxford when you’re still recovering. But I’m not going to demand answers, not if you don’t want to give them.’ His voice was soft. ‘I trust you. In everything.’
‘I trust you too,’ I said, even though my actions seemed to belie my words. ‘I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to worry you.’ I ran a hand through my hair, realising how knotted my curls were. ‘Some strange things have been happening to me and I thought I might be able to get some answers from the Order.’
He nodded. ‘You’ve been jumping at shadows and staring at things that aren’t there. I know you, Ivy Wilde. I know something is up. I wish you’d felt you could confide in me sooner.’
‘I don’t want you to think that I’m crazy.’
He laughed slightly. ‘You’re the craziest person I know.’ He paused. ‘And I love you for it.’
I leaned my forehead against his. I wasn’t sure what I’d done to deserve such a divine being. ‘I’m being visited by ghosts,’ I told him. ‘It might be a side-effect of the necromancy. Alternatively, I might be turning evil and, if that’s the case, I’ll have to be put down.’
Whatever Winter had been expecting, it obviously wasn’t that. He drew back and stared at me. ‘Are you alright?’
‘I think so. I don’t actually think I’m evil – for one thing, being a villain would take too much energy. Hopefully Philip Maidmont will find some answers for me.’
Winter relaxed a little. ‘That’s who you went to see?’
‘Yeah. Although,’ I added reluctantly, ‘now the Ipsissimus knows as well.’ I told him everything. To his credit, he simply listened. He didn’t question the truth of my words and he didn’t tell me off. I’d been right the first time around: he was far too stressed and worried about me than was natural. I’d expected a telling off; I deserved a telling off.
‘You know the Order aren’t going to be able to leave you alone now,’ he said once I’d finished. ‘You’re having conversations with long-dead people. You’ve met Ipsissimus Grenville, who is credited with turning the Order into what it is today. A lot of witches are going to have a lot of questions.’ His expression turned hard. ‘And the last thing you should be doing is meeting a ghost during the damned witching hour.’
‘It won’t be dangerous if you’re there to protect me,’ I said with a sidelong glance.
Winter snorted. ‘Try and stop me from coming.’ He hesitated. ‘If I’m going to do this though, you need to do something for me.’
I felt a tingle of dread. ‘What?’
‘You owe me, Ivy Wilde. You’ve been running around behind my back. Keeping secrets. Potentially throwing yourself into the path of danger yet again…’ He pasted on an innocent expression. ‘I think I’ve been very reasonable so far. You need to—’
‘Fine,’ I interrupted. ‘What do you need?’
He grinned, the action lending his face a gorgeously boyish slant. ‘You to have dinner with my family on Sunday.’
Uh-oh. ‘You’re right,’ I said quickly. ‘I’m putting myself in far too much danger. I’m going to stay under my duvet for the next fortnight at least.’
‘Ivy…’
Arse. It was clearly important to him. ‘Okay,’ I sighed. ‘I’ll come.’ How bad could one meal with a military family be?
Cobweb Lady flashed into existence, cackling away to herself. ‘This is priceless!’ she gasped. ‘I can’t wait to see what this man’s family makes of you! Hahahahaha!’
I threw her a nasty look. I’d just have to make sure I was on my best behaviour. I might even go all out and brush my hair beforehand. If I could charm the pants off Winter, then his mum and dad would be easy. And those definitely weren’t butterflies I was feeling in the pit of my stomach, no sirree. Bring on the in-laws. At least the thought of meeting them made those ghosts seem like fluffy kittens in comparison.
The phone rang and, even though I was closer, Winter sprang up to answer it. Nice. While he spoke to whoever was on the other end, I glanced round. There was a cardboard box sitting beside the coffee table, which didn’t look familiar. I crouched down and flipped open the lid, sucking in a breath when I saw what was inside. I reached in and carefully pulled out the delicate apparatus, peering at it from all angles. It was an old herb-purifying system. And when I say old, I mean antique – and probably very, very valuable. No doubt it was a Winter family heirloom. I paused and frowned. Except Winter’s family weren’t witches.
It was heavier than it looked so, rather than drop it and smash it into smithereens, I placed it on the table. These items were now obsolete. Not long after the Second World War, some Order boffins had put their heads together and worked out that a pinch of salt was more than enough to cleanse magical herbs so they were safe to use in spells. Most witches who use herblore regularly simply add a few salt grains without even thinking about it. It wasn’t that big a deal; in fact, even if the salt was forgotten and the herbs were technically impure, it wasn’t that big a deal. The worst that could happen was that the herbs would be less effective.
Herblorists enjoyed long-winded arguments about which type of salt was most effective. I had heard that the Order even employed a selmelier, like a sommelier but f
or salt instead of wine so the end result was far less enjoyable but there was less need for several ibuprofen afterwards. I had a sneaking suspicion that whether you used pink Himalayan rock salt mined by virgins in the foothills of Nepal or table salt from the supermarket shelf, the end results were the same.
‘I’m not going to ask her that,’ Winter said into the phone in a slightly raised voice. ‘You decide. I’m sure it will be fine either way.’
Pulling my attention away from the purifier, I raised an eyebrow. My momentary distraction was long enough for Brutus to take a flying leap towards me. I flung up my hands in front of my face, narrowly avoiding knocking the precious heirloom to the floor. Then I realised that Brutus wasn’t aiming for me. He landed on all fours inside the cardboard box with the satisfied expression that I only received from him when I had the weekend off and no plans.
Winter sighed. ‘No, Mother. I won’t.’
Even more intrigued, I slowly lowered my arms. ‘Go on,’ I said. ‘Ask me.’
Winter’s face was expressing abject misery. He cupped his hand over the receiver. ‘My mother wants to know if you would mind if the dinner is black tie.’ He licked his lips. ‘Sorry. She can be a bit of a stickler for propriety.’
I make a point of avoiding dress codes, especially when they are for dinner. What on earth is the point of getting dressed up to eat? I can eat on my sofa in my ancient stained tracksuit with the frayed cuffs and hole in the knee and the food will still taste the same. But this was Winter’s family. Having already agreed to attend, I couldn’t back out now. If it would make Winter happy, I could make an exception. Once. Especially given that Cobweb Lady was doubled over in hysterics, apparently at the thought of me getting dressed up.
‘Fine,’ I said.
Winter blinked. ‘Are you sure?’
I bit back the sarcastic comment that popped into my head and smiled. ‘No problem.’
Confused, but obviously relieved, Winter removed his hand and spoke to his mother again. I glanced down at Brutus who was still inside the box. His whiskers were quivering as if he were trying hard not to laugh. I flipped the lid so he was no longer visible. ‘Now we don’t know whether you’re dead or alive,’ I said in a hushed voice. Brutus responded by re-opening the lid in a blur of motion, then a paw with outstretched claws snapped out and scraped down my skin.
‘Ouch!’ I pulled back and glared. ‘Okay, okay, you’re alive.’
Winter hung up and glanced at me. ‘Sorry.’
I shrugged. There was no point getting upset about it. ‘It’ll be fun,’ I said. ‘And now we know that you’re not a throwback. Your magic comes from your mum’s side.’ He stared at me so I explained. ‘She knew I’d just agreed to come, that’s why she called now. She’s probably not even aware of it herself. I know, though, because I’m Ivy Wilde, super-sleuth extraordinaire.’
Winter’s eyes flashed in amusement. ‘If you say so.’
I gestured to the herb purifier. ‘This is pretty darn fancy. I’ll scrub the shower grout every day for the next month if it’s not been passed down on your mum’s side of the family.’
He pressed his lips together. ‘Ivy, look at the box again.’
I could hear the faint rumble of a growl from Brutus. ‘Er…’
Winter pointed to the side of the box. There was an address label. I craned my head round and read it, taking care this time not to touch the box. I liked all my fingers; I didn’t want to lose any to my pissed-off cat.
The address label was neatly printed, using Winter’s full name but not his Order title. Judging from the logo in the corner, the box had been sent to him from a company called Multi Multa.
‘The purifier’s not a family heirloom, Ivy,’ Winter told me. ‘It’s a bribe.’
I sat up. Okay. Now I was interested.
‘Word’s got round that I’m not in the Order any longer. Multi Multa want me to work for them. They’ve sent me the purifier as an indicator of their genuine interest. No strings attached.’ He snorted. ‘As if.’
‘But isn’t that a good thing? You want to work. They want you to work. They’re going to woo you with desirable objects to make it happen.’ I shrugged. ‘Sounds win-win to me.’
‘The only object of my desire around here is you,’ Winter said.
My stomach flipped then Brutus growled again from inside the box. I hastily pointed towards it. ‘I’m not as desirable as Brutus.’
The growling stopped but I had the feeling that Brutus knew I wasn’t being entirely sincere because a paw began to edge out once more. Taking no chances, I backed away.
Winter smiled faintly. ‘They’re just looking for a highly placed Order witch whose name they can bandy about to make themselves look good. They don’t actually want me to do anything. It’s a PR exercise, nothing more.’
‘You don’t know that for sure.’
‘The job on offer is Dynamic Magic Configuration Consultant.’
I stared at him. ‘Huh?’
‘Exactly. The more complicated the job title, the less job there is to do. I’d be wasting my time. I’m going to send the purifier back. The last thing I want to do is have a full-time job that involves nothing more than an hour or two a week of actual work.’
Sometimes it still baffled me how Winter and I had ever got together. My hand shot up in the air and I waved it around. ‘Me! I’ll take that job! Tell them about me! I’m just as good at magic as you.’
Winter smiled. ‘You’re better,’ he said gently. ‘But you weren’t Adeptus Exemptus. They only want the title, not the expertise.’ He flicked a fingernail against the purifier’s base and a high-pitched note rang out. ‘This is beautiful but it is going to be returned.’
There was a loud scratching sound from inside the box as Brutus sharpened his claws on the cardboard. A second later a hole appeared in the side, followed by his small, pink, questing nose. Winter looked at me. ‘The box might have to stay though.’
I could almost hear the smile in Brutus’s slightly muffled voice. ‘Foooooooood.’
Chapter Three
I let out a massive yawn as we pulled up outside the Order headquarters several hours later. Winter immediately turned his gaze to me and frowned. ‘Are you alright? We don’t have to do this. We can easily go back home.’
As tempting as that suggestion was, there was a light in Winter’s eyes that I didn’t want to extinguish. He was genuinely excited at having a mission – even if that mission involved sneaking into the Order to watch me talking to thin air. The Multi Multa job offer might not be realistic but he really needed to do something more to occupy himself.
I shook my head and gave a small smile. ‘I’m fine.’
‘You’ll let me know if you start feeling ill.’ There was the faintest hint of command in his voice.
My smile grew and I snapped off a salute. ‘Yessir!’
‘I’m being serious, Ivy. The last thing you need is a relapse. It’s already been a long day for you.’
I leaned across and planted a kiss on his lips. ‘If I feel anything other than perfect, I promise I will tell you,’ I said.
‘And if this gets dangerous…’
‘I’m here to talk to an insubstantial being who could still be a figment of my imagination. I don’t think I’m likely to get hurt.’ I raised my eyebrows. ‘In fact, you’re the one we should be worrying about. We’re breaking into the Order. You’ve not been back here since you signed your release papers. This place was your life, Rafe, and now we’re sneaking into it like criminals. That’s gotta sting.’
‘It’s not a problem.’
Somehow I doubted that but I let it go for now. Dynamic Magic Configuration Consultant jobs aside, I still reckoned it was in Winter’s best interests to rejoin the Order. But that was a decision he had to come to on his own and it was really nice having him along with me for backup. More than nice.
‘If I forget to say it later,’ I told him, ‘thank you for watching my back.’
His feat
ures finally relaxed into a smile. ‘Always.’
We gazed at each other like two lovesick plonkers – hell, we were two lovesick plonkers – then I nodded and got out of the car. It was already five to midnight. We had to vamoose.
I might have been able to gain access in the middle of the day with Philip Maidmont by my side but getting in with an ex-Adeptus Exemptus in the middle of the night was entirely different. I snickered softly. ‘Ex-Adeptus Exemptus. Try saying that quickly three times in a row.’
Winter rolled his eyes. ‘Come on. There are a few lights on towards the back so the main doors will be open.’
If lights were on, that meant people were still working. I shuddered. Winter smirked, as if reading my thoughts, then he took my elbow and steered me up the steps and inside the building.
There weren’t as many security witches on guard as there were during the day – which made no sense to me whatsoever – but two of them were still sitting out front and eyeing our approach. Winter hooked his arm through my elbow and we strolled up to them.
‘Adeptus Exemptus…’ the first one began.
Winter held up his hand. ‘Not any longer. As I’m sure you know.’
His buddy was bolder. ‘And I’m sure you know, sir, that we cannot allow you to enter unless you have an appointment.’ He made a show of checking his watch. ‘I think visiting hours are over.’
‘Of course, of course,’ Winter murmured. He showed them an envelope. ‘I wanted to leave this for the Ipsissimus. I promised him I’d bring it over.’
The witch’s lip curled. ‘And you thought you’d drop it off now?’ His implication was obvious – Winter was too scared to come by at a sane hour. He wanted to make sure he avoided bumping into any former colleagues. What the witch didn’t realise was that Winter didn’t suffer from any ego issues.
‘I did.’ Winter shrugged and stepped back. ‘One more thing,’ he said, reaching into his pocket.
The witch smirked. ‘Yes?’
Winter pulled out a handful of herbs he’d prepared earlier and blew them gently towards the pair of guards. They blinked rapidly several times before their eyes rolled into the back of their heads and they keeled over. I caught the nice quiet one; Winter grabbed Mr Nasty.
