by Helen Harper
I took the spray bottle from Eve and passed it to him. ‘Go on, then. You are really into your cleaning, you can sort this out.’
‘I can’t. I have to call the Order and warn them about what’s going on. If Blackbeard is trying to gain entry, they need to know straight away.’ He hurried out of the room.
I sighed. ‘Two days ago all he wanted to do was clean. I should have stayed ill for a bit longer.’
Eve looked almost as amused as Winter had. ‘Who’s Blackbeard?’ she asked.
I grimaced. ‘Long story.’
Brutus got to his feet and stretched out before turning towards us and yawning pointedly. ‘Bitch,’ he hissed.
‘I’m going home,’ Eve said hastily.
I waved a hand at her. ‘Yeah, that’s probably a good idea.’
She flashed me a quick smile then departed almost as quickly as Winter. I glared at Brutus. ‘You made everyone run away.’
I could swear he shrugged. Jumping down from the windowsill, he padded towards me, coiling himself around my legs. ‘Bitch,’ he said again.
I crouched down and scratched him behind his ears. ‘I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘I didn’t mean to leave you behind. I didn’t think we’d be away overnight. I did miss you a lot.’
Brutus sniffed and gave me a head butt. He let out the tiniest purr.
‘You shouldn’t have done that in here, though. We all live here. It’s not just your home.’ Remembering how my old geography teacher had managed to make me feel guilty when I’d used to magic instead of brain power to complete my earthquake project, and had got not just the entire school but the entire town evacuated because of dangerous tremors, I pasted on a suitably serious but sad expression. ‘I expected more from you. It’s not that I’m surprised, Brutus. It’s that I’m disappointed.’
His head drooped as if in apology. ‘Miaow.’
I wiggled a finger in my ear. ‘Pardon?’
Brutus slowly looked up at me, his yellow eyes wide and limpid. ‘Brutus sorry.’ He rubbed himself against my leg once again, although this time there was a hint of desperation to the action. I nodded, satisfied. Brutus understood that what he’d done was wrong and that he shouldn’t do it again. It was the best I could ask for. He tilted his head to one side and blinked slowly at me. For a big cat, he could do cute when he wanted to.
‘I wouldn’t have stayed away if it wasn’t important,’ I told him. ‘And you had Eve. You like her. And Princess Parma Periwinkle.’
His tail began to flick dangerously from side to side. ‘Love Ivy,’ he said.
My heart melted. Eve was right, he’d missed me. Abandoning all pretence that I wasn’t his slave, I did the one thing that I’d promised myself I wouldn’t. ‘Before I go looking for the pee which you’ve left behind, would you like some food? Some tuna treats?’
Brutus purred. Yeah, no surprise there then.
I got him what I’d promised and, while he gobbled the treats down at breakneck speed, I flicked out a quick rune to dim the natural light in my flat. With my other hand, I created a rune for blacklight. It was the fastest way to locate where exactly Brutus had peed. There were probably just a few spatters somewhere in the corner. I just had to… My mouth dropped open.
Winter, wandering back in, stopped in his tracks and stared at the wall. ‘Is that…?’
I folded my arms and nodded grimly. The little shit. ‘Brutus!’ I yelled.
He came sauntering back in, having finished his treats in record time. No wonder; if I’d seen this, I’d have denied him tuna until his next life. He sat down in the middle of the floor, washed his face then glanced up to admire his handiwork. There, across my entire wall, sprayed in cat pee was the word ‘bitch’.
In the corner, the old cobweb-covered woman appeared. She craned her neck, took in the full effect of what Brutus had achieved and started to cackle loudly. I sighed. I was being driven out of my home by ghosts and cat piss.
‘Screw this,’ I said to Winter. ‘Let’s go catch ourselves a serial killer.’
***
Although I was still pissed off at him – and making sure he knew it – Brutus appeared determined to come with us. Rather than leave him to destroy my flat completely, I let him. Winter seemed more amused than anything. When Iqbal beamed delightedly at the sight of my furry frenemy and made a fuss over him, I glared, Winter smiled and Brutus purred.
‘You’re not going to believe this,’ my old friend said. ‘But I’ve finished my first draft.’ He twirled in delight. ‘Sixty-three thousand words.’
Impressed, I reached across a tottering pile of books and gave him a hug. ‘That’s brilliant!’
He nodded. ‘Yes, I am brilliant. I will accept any and all accolades.’ He bowed.
‘I don’t know why he’s making such a big deal about it,’ sniffed a white-coated man with crazy hair springing out in all directions. ‘It’s not very good.’
I flicked the ghost a look. ‘Don’t be mean,’ I said sternly. After seeing what Brutus had achieved, I wasn’t in the mood for dissenters.
Iqbal stared at me. ‘Who are you talking to?’
‘Well,’ I said, ‘while you’ve been busy writing, I’ve been busy having conversations with the dead.’ In a loud stage whisper, I added, ‘They’re not very interesting. And they don’t know as much as they think they do.’
The Einstein-esque ghost scoffed loudly. ‘Oh yeah? Well you didn’t know there was a mass murderer on the loose, did you? We told you that. He’d have carried on without any of you realising, if it wasn’t for us.’
‘You’re dead,’ I said. ‘You can see everything and go everywhere. There are thousands of you – and yet none of you can tell me who the killer is or where I can find him.’
‘We’re dead, not omniscient. Anyway,’ he sniffed, ‘I’m supposed to tell you that Ipsissimus Grenville wants to see you.’
‘He’ll have to wait,’ I growled.
Iqbal glanced at Winter. ‘Has this been happening a lot?’
‘You get used to it,’ Winter said. ‘And it’s not all that bad. It keeps her occupied and makes her feel wanted.’
‘Oi!’
He grinned.
Iqbal’s hands rose to his cheeks and he gazed at the pair of us. ‘Look at you. It’s like you’ve just discovered your first spell.’ He sighed happily. ‘Young love.’ The ghost pretended to vomit and I was pretty certain that Brutus rolled his eyes. ‘When do I get my wedding invite?’ Iqbal enquired.
I laughed. ‘Hold your horses.’
‘Have you met your future in-laws?’
‘No,’ I shot back. ‘I haven’t.’
He visibly deflated. Winter jumped right in. ‘But she will tomorrow. We’re all having dinner together.’
Iqbal lit up all over again. ‘See? One minute you’re lounging on your own sofa eating cold pizza in your knickers, and the next you’ll be wearing pearls and baking cupcakes to bring to your mother-in-law.’
Fear widened my eyes. ‘Baking cupcakes? Do I really have to do that?’
‘Of course not,’ Winter said. I began to relax. ‘My mother despises cupcakes. She prefers old-fashioned Victoria sponge cakes.’
I half choked. Domestic goddess I am not. Hastily changing the subject to the reason why we were here, I picked up Brutus to prevent him sending the pile of papers that he was batting at from falling to the floor. I looked at Iqbal. ‘We’re not here to banter about my culinary skills,’ I said. ‘We’re here because—’
‘You need my help,’ he finished for me. ‘Of course. Now that I’ve finished sixty-three thousand thesis words, I will be happy to oblige. It’s either that or I have to start editing the damn thing. I got a lot of leeway from my supervisor because I helped you save Scotland from zombies. Any more world-rescuing operations I can sidle into are very welcome.’
I frowned. ‘Did you help us save Scotland?’
‘I got you information.’
‘Information that in the end had nothing to do with zombies.’
He shrugged. ‘That wasn’t my fault.’
True. ‘Well,’ I said, ‘this time it’s witches we are hoping to save.’ My light-hearted tone dropped several notches. ‘Seven are already dead and we expect there will be more if we don’t catch the bastard who’s doing it.’
Iqbal’s humour and banter vanished in an instant. ‘Go on.’
I disentangled Brutus’s claws from several of my curls while Winter explained. ‘Right now,’ he said, ‘we’re playing the waiting game.’ The frustration in his voice made it clear how annoying he found that. ‘We’re waiting on the police telling us where the coven members’ post is being re-directed to. We’re waiting on the Order working through their files to find out what happened with the coven’s application to become Order witches. And, unfortunately, we’re waiting on Blackbeard making another move.’
‘What?’ shrieked the ghost in my ear. ‘That’s your plan? To wait until he kills more witches? That’s ridiculous! That’s not a plan!’
I winced and stepped away. Even if I secretly agreed with him, technically there was more to it than waiting for further deaths.
Brutus hissed loudly and wriggled out of my arms so he could dart into the corner where it was apparently safer. ‘Why didn’t you tell me you could see ghosts?’ I asked him as he shot behind another dusty pile of books.
Brutus bobbed his head up from behind the literary parapet and flicked me a look as if to say I was being stupid and that I’d never have believed him. I sighed. Yeah, he was probably right; it wasn’t worth getting into now.
Iqbal coughed pointedly. ‘Well,’ he said, ‘there is definitely one thing I can help with. It came up in my research for my thesis. If you’re going to explore the history of magic in the British Isles then you also need to explore the absence of magic too.’
Both Winter and I leaned in. ‘Go on.’
‘Nulls,’ he said. ‘People who are entirely unaffected by magic. It doesn’t matter what you throw at them or how powerful a witch you are, they’re immune.’
‘Immune to magic?’ I said slowly. How on earth was that even possible? I looked at Winter; he seemed just as baffled as I was. ‘Have you ever heard of a null?’
‘No.’ He ran a hand through his hair. ‘But if that’s what our Blackbeard is, it makes a lot of sense.’
‘If it makes you feel any better,’ Iqbal said, ‘they’re incredibly rare. We’re talking about maybe one person in a million who’s affected, so it stands to reason that you don’t often hear about them.’
I grimaced. ‘Better odds than being a serial killer,’ I said. ‘Probably.’
‘Well,’ Iqbal demurred, ‘your guy is not a serial killer, he’s a mass murderer. Until he’s actually killed more than three people on separate occasions, he doesn’t count as a serial killer.’ He scratched his head. ‘So, uh, there’s that.’
Whoop-de-do.
‘This could be good news,’ Winter said. I glanced at him askance. I couldn’t possibly see how. ‘Someone somewhere must have noticed that Blackbeard is a null. It might have been a schoolteacher or a friend or a doctor. But whoever it was or whenever it happened, nulls are rare enough that there must be a record of who he really is. It might not lead us right to him but it could teach us a great deal about him.’
Okay, that kind of made sense. ‘So, as the Arcane Branch expert among us,’ I said, ‘how would you search the records for him?’
‘I’d put in a bi-request for Order and police records. For something as vital as this, it would be a rush job so it would take two or three days. Obviously, I can’t request it in my current position.’
I was getting a headache. ‘We need to go back to the Ipsissimus and get him to do it.’ Winter nodded. He really didn’t look happy about it. ‘Maybe you should re-join…’ I began. His expression stopped me from finishing my sentence.
‘Is there anything else about nulls that you can tell us?’ he asked Iqbal. ‘Anything at all?’
My friend shrugged. ‘There’s not much to tell. They’re just the same as any ordinary person. They don’t have magic and magic can’t affect them. To stop a null you need to use other means.’ He paused. ‘You two are smart. You can work it out.’
Judging by the expression on Winter’s face, he felt as doubtful as I did. Magic was what we did; it was in our blood and in our DNA. If we couldn’t rely on it, I didn’t know what we could do. It felt like our chances of catching Blackbeard and bringing him to justice had gone from slim to none.
The ghost frowned at me. ‘Give me a break,’ he complained. ‘You think that just because you’ve found someone who you can’t bespell it’s the end of the world.’
I glared at him. ‘It was the end of Clare Rees’s world.’ And Karen’s. And Paul’s. And Amy’s. Not to mention the other three whom I had yet to meet but who I knew were out there somewhere.
‘Death isn’t so bad,’ the ghost went on. ‘It’s the hanging around that sucks. All this waiting for something to happen and nothing ever does. Being here is like being stuck at the dentist and waiting to have your teeth pulled without anaesthetic. Except you don’t know when it’s going to happen. Or if it’s ever going to happen. You just know that you can’t do anything apart from wait.’
Damn. ‘I’m … sorry,’ I said. It was inane but true.
Crazy Hair sighed. ‘It’s not your fault.’
‘Who is it, Ivy?’ Iqbal asked. ‘Who’s the ghost? Why are they here haunting me?’
I raised my eyebrows in question. Crazy Hair shrugged. ‘I’m not haunting him. I used to work here. It’s a good place. I normally hang around the canteen because that’s where you get all the best gossip but I got word that Grenville wanted me here. He really does want to talk to you.’
It was my turn to shrug. ‘I’ll try to drop in when we go to see the Ipsissimus.’ The current Ipsissimus. Man, this could get confusing. ‘How can I help you?’ I asked. ‘How can I help you move on? Who do I need to talk to?’
A calculating look flitted across his expression. ‘You’d do that?’
I blinked. ‘Of course.’
‘It’s not a person who can free me,’ he said. ‘It’s a plaque.’
‘I thought you guys wanted things like plaques.’ And shrines and paintings and whatever.
‘You guys?’ he snorted. ‘You’ll be dead one day too, you know. Then you’ll see.’
Iqbal reached forward and touched my elbow. ‘I can only hear a bit of what’s going on,’ he said, ‘but if it’s a plaque you’re looking for, I might know what you mean.’ An expression of reverence crossed his face. ‘Is the ghost you’re talking to male, with frizzy hair that looks like yours? You know, like it’s been electrocuted?’
‘Electrocuted?’ the spirit spat. ‘Just because I had better things to do than worry about my appearance! I’ll have you know that I was the one who discovered the gene that is responsible for determining magic ability. Hundreds, no, thousands of witches have been discovered because of my work, instead of being left to languish in anonymity!’
I felt a sudden kinship with the phantom. After all, I also had better things to do than worry about my appearance. My better things weren’t amazing scientific breakthroughs, however; they were amazing days snuggled up underneath my duvet. I decided I probably shouldn’t say that.
‘That’s him,’ I said to Iqbal instead.
He fixed his gaze on a point over the ghost’s shoulder. ‘Professor Wiggins,’ he breathed. ‘It’s a genuine pleasure.’
Crazy Hair – or rather Professor Wiggins – looked slightly embarrassed. ‘That’s okay,’ he said gruffly. He glanced at me. ‘You should tell your friend that he needs to have another look at the third chapter. He’s got his sums wrong.’
I relayed this information to Iqbal, who didn’t look exactly thrilled. I suspected that he already knew that but hadn’t got around to fixing it. Or maybe he’d hoped no one would notice.
‘Thanks,’ he muttered. ‘I appreciate the help.�
�
‘Why don’t you take us to the plaque, Iqqy?’ I suggested, before he gave himself away completely.
‘Sure, yes.’ He bobbed his head vigorously. ‘I did wonder about it, you know. There’s something about the wording that always makes me feel uncomfortable and now I know why.’
‘What does it say?’ Winter asked.
It was Wiggins himself who answered. ‘“It was on this spot in 1989 that Professor Horace Wiggins changed the course of biological magic study for decades. May his zest for science and his soul endure here for eternity, affecting all these walls and all who study within them.”’
I winced. That was a pretty definitive curse, even if it was nicely worded.
‘Of course,’ Wiggins continued, ‘it wasn’t on that spot at all. I was trying to get the Dean’s secretary into the stationery cupboard when the real breakthrough actually came to me. You see, she had these massive—’
‘Professor,’ I said in an overly loud voice, ‘if you want my help, then you should probably stop talking now.’
He paused. ‘Uh, okay. Yes. Good idea.’
Brutus sighed. I shrugged at him. ‘You could have stayed at home, you know. There are plenty of corners to sulk in there. You don’t have to do it here.’
He raised a paw as if examining it, then extended his claws one by one.
‘Come on, Iqbal!’ Winter said cheerfully, with as much haste as he could muster. ‘Let’s go!’
And with that, we all barrelled out of the room.
Chapter Fourteen
One minor act of vandalism and a short journey later, we arrived at the Order Headquarters. Winter couldn’t wipe the guilty expression off his face, as if he were about to be carted away to complete ten years’ hard labour for prising an old plaque from a wall. He’d never make much of a criminal, I thought fondly.
‘You know,’ I said, as we got out of the taxi, ‘maybe this ghost business isn’t so bad after all. I’m starting to feel like I’m getting the hang of it. That’s two spirits I’ve already helped cross over. I realise there are problems with Clare and her coven but that’s different. All I need is to set up an office where the ghosts can come to me, and hire an assistant to sort out the curses, and I reckon I could be on to a winner. I’d miss taxi driving but I’d be prepared to give it up to be altruistic and help out all those lost souls.’ I paused. ‘And work for only twenty minutes or so a day.’
