Urban Witch

by R. L. Giddings

  I’d made the effort to look smart for the occasion with a brown pencil skirt a cream blouse with a white bodice underneath. I’d also chosen to wear a jacket which had proved to be a mistake. I’d gotten nice and sweaty running up the stairs and was just about to ask the receptionist if she had a spare can of deodorant in her desk when Marcus Rolfe appeared.

  He looked nervous and gave me the briefest of acknowledgements before checking in with the receptionist. When he turned to face me, he went to sit on the adjacent sofa but I got his attention by patting the seat beside me.

  It looked as though he was going to resist my offer but then he relented, came over and sat down.

  “Have a nice evening?” he asked.

  “I suppose. Why?”

  He twisted around completely just to look at me. “You’re not serious?”

  “About what?”

  “Your date with Silas.”

  I lowered my voice so that the receptionist couldn’t hear. “How do you know about that? Am I being followed?”

  “No, Bronte. No one’s following you but the world and his wife is following Silas.”

  “Oh,” I cast my eyes towards the door to Kinsella’s office, “Does he …”

  Marcus slapped his hands on his knees and looked up to the ceiling. It took him a while to get his thoughts in order. When he finally spoke he leaned in next to me. “What do you think it looks like – you and him hanging out together?”

  A prickle of anxiety went down my back. It was suddenly very warm inside the office.

  “I was trying to pick his brains about what’s going on.”

  “And did you discover much?” he sneered.

  I’d discovered a lot of things after I’d finally allowed him to drop me off at my flat.

  I’d discovered that he’s an excellent dancer, that his favourite food is Thai and that his breath tasted of fennel. Who knew?

  I had been a complete idiot. Here I was trying to look half way competent, second guessing myself over every little item and then I go and get into a car with one of our biggest suspects. How stupid could you be?

  Except, Silas was no longer a suspect in the stabbing. I knew who was responsible.

  That was, of course, if I could trust Macrory. But then, why would I doubt him? I didn’t see how it would be possible for him to lie to me. I did know his full name after all.

  “Look, I need your opinion on something”

  But Marcus wasn’t listening. It took me a moment to realise why.

  Kinsella was standing in the doorway, his face a mask. “Perhaps you’d both better come in.”

  Doing my best to avoid his gaze, I followed Kinsella into his office with Marcus bringing up the rear. Everything was starting to slip from my grasp. I felt completely powerless.

  How did I feel? Strangely disconnected. At least if I were sacked I could just go home and sleep. The prospect of that simple pleasure gave me more comfort than anything else. I’d gotten precious little sleep the night before.

  I was expecting any number of people to be waiting in the office but the one person I wasn’t expecting to see was Melissa Stahl. She was sitting across the table checking her mobile. She wore a beautifully tailored light grey business suit and looked, if anything, younger than the last time I’d seen her.

  Kinsella made the introductions while he took his place next to Stahl. Marcus and I sat directly opposite them across the table. Stahl finished whatever she was doing and then looked directly at each one of us in turn.

  The silence had a texture to it: thick and brooding. Even Marcus was affected by it sitting stiffly in his seat his fingers clasped on his lap.

  “So, Bronte, would you like to tell us what you’ve been up to?” Kinsella said softly.

  I looked pointedly at Stahl, the hush between us dark and inhospitable. Kinsella took my meaning.

  “Don’t worry about Doctor Stahl, if she can oversee our budget then she can probably be trusted to sit in on this. Please, bring us up to date with what’s been happening.”

  I had rehearsed my story several times on the way over and it took me about fifteen minutes to relay the events of the previous twenty four hours. I told it all, pretty much, in chronological order and there were only perhaps one or two points over which I was purposefully vague concerning my feelings for Silas. I even included his picking me up at the station, though I didn’t mention the kiss. Most of the other stuff Kinsella would be able to check up on later if he wasn’t aware of it already. It would be wise not to underestimate him.

  I caught myself wondering about Helena and Stahl’s relationship. How well did they know one another? Certainly, Stahl would have been aware of Helena’s work with the Bear Garden. Two witches in influential positions within a shared sphere of influence. Didn’t everyone know everyone else in this bizarre hot-house world or ours? They would, at the very least, have attended some of the same functions. It would have been impossible for them not to run into one another at some point. It was, perhaps, rather obvious why Stahl was there: she had a vested interest in the outcome.

  When I had finished my account it was Stahl who spoke first, “Is that everything?”

  “It’s not absolutely everything, no. Do you have any questions…”

  “You said that you didn’t have any choice in accepting Silas Laing’s invitation. Did he threaten you?”

  Silas Laing. So that was his surname.

  “No,” I said. “He didn’t.”

  “Then why did you agree? Would you get into a car with just anyone?”

  “I felt that I knew him well enough to accept.”

  “Would you say that you trust him?”

  I looked towards Kinsella in the hope of getting some idea where she was going with this. His gaze was unreadable.

  “He’s given me no reason to distrust him.”

  “And what about Helena Lawson. Do you trust her?”

  “Yes. Why wouldn’t I?”

  My words hung in the air.

  “And this man: Silas. You’ve met him - what – three times?”

  Where was she getting her information?

  “That’s right.”

  “And on the first occasion you watched him attack two innocent men.”

  “They weren’t innocent,” I straightened my shoulders. “They attacked us.”

  “We only have your word for that. Helena Lawson – the only witness - is in a coma and the two men are dead. Murdered by your new boyfriend.”

  “He’s not my boyfriend.”

  “Yet he’s visited your flat and given you a lift in his car. We even have this.”

  She reached across the desk for an i-Pad. After a few seconds she’d found what she was looking for. She spun it round for me to see.

  A picture, taken at street level, of me leaning into Silas’ car to kiss him.

  I felt my cheeks begin to redden. My career was over. How could I have been so stupid?

  “Are you in a relationship with Silas Laing?” she was enjoying this.

  “No,” I didn’t know what else to say.

  “Then could you tell me,” she swiped the i-Pad screen, “What this is?”

  A photo of a knife on a bright green background. It had a gold embossed hilt and a thick, black blade. It looked like it belonged in a story from the Arabian Nights.

  “Have you seen this before?”

  Marcus shifted uncomfortably next to me.

  I zoomed in on the image, examined the handle, the blade.

  “I’ve never seen it before.”

  I had to work to keep the anger out of my voice. What was disquieting was the fact that nobody else was coming to my defence. I was on my own.

  She carefully took the i-Pad and held it in both hands.

  “You’re telling me that you did not take this object from the Ptolemy library on Saturday morning at …”

  “8.37 a.m.” Kinsella offered.

  “I have never seen this thing in my life.”

  You could he
ar the strain in my voice. What was going on?

  “Do you recognise this item?”

  Stahl slid the image across. The Book of Lost Souls. I couldn’t trust myself to speak so I just nodded.

  “And did you remove this item from the Ptolemy at…”

  She looked over at Kinsella.

  “8. 47a.m.” he said.

  “On Friday morning. Almost exactly twenty four hours earlier.”

  “Yes,” I said. “I was responding to a request from Mr. Kinsella’s office. I was aware that it was a matter of some urgency.”

  It was when Stahl smiled that I knew that I was lost. Kinsella couldn’t protect me on this one. I knew what was coming next.

  “And what authorisation did you have to remove this item from the library?”

  I didn’t even try to fight her. There was no point.

  “None. I had no authorisation. I was acting on my own.”

  I’d taken a risk – it hadn’t paid off.

  “Did your supervisor know?”

  “She wasn’t in on Friday. I brought it straight across to the Ministry. I wasn’t trying to steal it.”

  “And what about the knife?” She’d already won and she knew it. “What did you intend doing with that?”

  “I’m telling you: I didn’t take the knife. I’ve never seen it before.”

  “And yet your identification card was used to open the time delayed safe where it was kept. What’s more, you’re registered as entering the library before and after the knife was taken. Did Silas Laing pressurise you into removing those two items?”

  “No, of course not.”

  “I’d like to ask you directly, then: are you sleeping with Silas Laing?”

  I wasn’t going to dignify that with a response. I started gathering my things.

  The weight which had been pressing down on my chest lifted. “On Saturday morning, about nine o’clock – you can check my phone records – Helena sent me a message arranging for us to meet up at about eleven. Helena never showed up. I bumped into Marcus about that time and that’s it. The truth is that I didn’t know that my identification had been stolen until this morning.”

  Stahl got to her feet, buttoning her jacket.

  “I think we’ve heard enough Niall,” she said, scooping up her mobile. “I trust that I can leave you to deal with the details.”

  “That you can, Melissa.”

  It all sounded so jaunty and relaxed – the way they were using one another’s Christian names.

  Kinsella saw her out.

  After she’d gone he came back and stood behind his chair.

  He pursed his lips. “Well, that could have gone better.”

  I was close to tears by this stage but had resolved not to cry until I could get myself to a bathroom.

  “I’m suspending you both with immediate effect.”

  I didn’t know whether to feel angry or relieved. Marcus’ mouth had dropped open, the fact of what was happening catching him completely off-guard.

  “You can’t suspend Marcus,” I said. “He’s done nothing wrong.”

  Kinsella was having none of it. “Guilt by association, I’m afraid. If you are working for the other side, Bronte, you’ve had ample opportunity over the last forty eight hours to recruit him to your cause.”

  I wanted to argue with him but the simple act of him using my name seemed to dissuade me.

  “What was all that about the knife?” I asked. “Somebody must have stolen my ID.”

  Marcus rolled his eyes. “Haven’t you worked it out yet? Come on, Bronte, you’ve been set up good and proper. Even that book has disappeared.”

  “It hasn’t disappeared,” Kinsella corrected him. “Helena had it. We just don’t know where it is at the moment.”

  Helena must have taken my ID. Probably in the taxi on the way home. It all made sense.

  Kinsella moved to the door. The interview was over.

  I decided to speak. I had nothing to lose. He’d already suspended me.

  I picked up the i-Pad and found the image of the knife.

  “Are we thinking that this is what was used to stab Helena?”

  Kinsella gave a pained expression. “It’s looking that way, although I’m really hoping that it isn’t.”

  Marcus took the i-Pad from me. “Have you heard of the Seelie Blade?”

  “I’ve heard of the Seelie Court but then, hasn’t everyone?”

  “Well, this is the Seelie Blade. We say ‘blade’ but there are five of them in all. This one is exceptional because it’s the only one that’s not still in the possession of the Fae themselves.”

  Did this explain Macrory’s presence? His impassioned little speech? I thought perhaps it might.

  I tried to absorb it all. “You’re saying that this knife has magical properties.”

  “There’s no point pursuing this further,” Kinsella had come around the desk. Marcus was taller but Kinsella more intimidating.

  Marcus ignored him. “It’s more than just magical properties. Wars have been fought over this knife. The Fae would do anything to get it back.”

  “So, what was it doing stuck away in the back of the Ptolemy?”

  We both regarded Kinsella.

  “Whilst it was in the Ptolemy it was subject to various cloaking spells. It was safe. If no-one knew that it was there then we could deny that we had it. But, now that it’s out in the public domain, we find ourselves in a difficult position.”

  “But why keep it?” I asked. “Why not hand it back to the Fae if we have no intention of using it?”

  Kinsella said, “It gives us a bargaining chip in our dealings with the Fae. In fact it gives us the edge over every group we deal with: witches, werewolves, vampires. Everyone.”

  Marcus drummed his hands on the table. “She ought to know, sir.”

  Kinsella rolled his eyes.

  Marcus took that as his cue, “There’s a good reason everyone wants to get their hands on the Seelie Blade. It’s absolutely bloody lethal.”

  I looked at the image again. It looked pretty fragile to me.

  “The Seelie Blade is fatal to all. Once you’re stabbed with this blade,” Kinsella tapped the screen, accidentally enlarging the image, “then you’re as good as dead. It doesn’t matter who you are: vampires, the Fae, all the Immortals. Even the Elder Races are scared of it. No one is safe. It really is the great leveller.”

  “And you think that this was used to stab Helena?”

  Kinsella’s shoulders slumped as he nodded.

  I felt sick.

  “If that’s true then why isn’t she dead already?”

  “Because she’s a witch and her body’s fighting it,” he pulled a face. “But it won’t make any difference in the long term. We’re just be delaying the inevitable.”

  “But we can’t know for certain that it is the Seelie Blade that was used to stab her.”

  “Or, indeed, who stabbed her,” Kinsella said.

  I brightened at that. “I might know.”

  It was one of the details I’d purposely left out of my report to Stahl.

  “I think it’s someone called Bjarne Lindqvist.”

  “Lindqvist! I should have known.”

  “You know him?”

  “He’s been around for years. Very old school and – if I’m not mistaken – a former partner of one Max Brodsky.”

  Chapter 18

  We stood on the roof looking out over the offices of Whitehall, the London Eye looming large over to our left. It was a great view, a very privileged view of London which no tourist would ever see, but I was too upset to give it my full attention. If what they were saying was true then there was no hope of saving Helena.

  That didn’t seem right.

  I took a long drag on my cigarette.

  Marcus stood at the far edge of the rooftop with his hands in his pockets. It was still very awkward between us. I’d been the one to get him suspended, after all.

  We’d both sat there as Kinsella
had gone through the process of writing the suspensions up officially on his computer. It had been sobering to watch, especially when he had asked Marcus for his lanyard. I couldn’t give him mine, of course. I didn’t have it anymore.

  He sauntered back over to me once I’d finished my cigarette.

  “I’m sorry about all this,” I said.

  “Not your fault,” Marcus looked morose. “Question is: what are we going to do about it?”

  “I’d still like to find out what happened on Saturday morning. Try and work out what Helena was up to.”

  He seemed to perk up at that.

  “Perhaps I can help you there.”

  “How so?”

  “Millie organised for me and Terence to go down to the National Portrait Gallery: where she met Brodsky. We were supposed to be reviewing their surveillance footage.”

  I hesitated. “But we’ve just been suspended.”

  “I know,” he said. “But they’ll be expecting us. I don’t want them to be disappointed.”

  *

  On the cab ride across town Marcus sat as far away from me as it was possible to get. He hadn’t said anything about the photo of me and Silas but he didn’t have to. He had taken it as a personal slight and was waiting for me to apologise but, seeing as I didn’t have anything to apologise for – I’d only kissed Silas – I was acting as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. Subsequently, the atmosphere in the back of the cab was awkward.

  In the meantime, I decided to give Millie a ring. I wanted to find out if there were any up-dates on Helena. Kinsella had been very clear about what we could and couldn’t say to others but I was really worried about Helena and felt that having Marcus listening in on the conversation would guarantee that I didn’t saying anything untoward. I put the phone on loud-speaker so that there could be no doubting my intentions.

  It rang six times before Millie picked up.

  “Bronte,” she sounded relieved. “I’d all but given up on you.”

  “Nah, I’m fine. Bit of trouble with Kinsella but nothing I can’t handle. Where are you?”

  “Didn’t he tell you: I’m at the hospital.”