Slouch Witch Page 8

  Winter poked around a little longer and then made for the stairs. I was perfectly willing to watch him go but, when he was almost out of sight, he called in an irritating voice, ‘Come on then, Ms Wilde. Get a move on!’

  No. I understood he had a job to do and that he treated the loss of the sceptre as a particularly grave matter but that didn’t give him the right to talk to me like that. Keeping quiet was one thing; acting like Winter’s obedient shadow was something entirely different. I dug in my heels and didn’t move.

  That was a good plan as far as I was concerned except that almost immediately the skin on my arms began to tingle, and not in a good way. I pulled up my sleeve. I was covered in goosebumps, each hair standing on end. And I appeared to be turning a dangerous shade of purple. The tingling wasn’t just painful; it was also bloody itchy. I stared after Winter. Was this because of him? Had he cast a damn spell on me?

  I pushed myself off the wall and jogged after him. When I reached his shoulder, however, he merely grunted, ‘’Bout time. I thought you were in a rush to get this over and done with.’

  I narrowed my eyes. He didn’t seem to be carrying any herbs although he could well have cast a few runes. All the same, he wasn’t acting any differently and my skin already seemed to be returning to normal.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ he snapped. ‘Is walking down a few stairs too much trouble for you now? Would you prefer to take the lift?’

  It wasn’t his doing then. No doubt it was a result of the binding. We might not have been far apart but the spell must have registered my intention to have nothing more to do with the investigation and reacted accordingly. That was … interesting. Rather than admit to Winter what had happened, I deflected him. ‘There’s a lift?’ I asked hopefully.

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous. This is a technology-free zone.’ He continued downward.

  I rubbed my arms and followed. Well, this was just shit. Apparently the binding was even tighter than I’d been led to believe. I suppose I should have been amused that the higher Level witches didn’t trust Winter to work with someone else without enforced magic. If anyone else bore the brunt of this spell, it would have been funny. I was most definitely not laughing.

  Winter strode down to the foot of the stairs and stopped. He took out his little stick and poked the air; this time it turned red.

  ‘Abracadabra,’ I muttered.

  He didn’t turn around. ‘Go up and take a book from a shelf then come back down here.’ I didn’t move a muscle. He glanced over his shoulder. ‘Didn’t you hear me?’

  I blinked. ‘Oh, I’m sorry. Were you talking to me?’ I clasped my chest. ‘I thought I was just along for the ride and superfluous to your investigations. I’m just an amateur, after all.’

  Winter’s mouth tightened fractionally. I’d have hung around and waited for a ‘please’ except my skin began to tingle once more. ‘Fine,’ I snapped. ‘Anything in particular?’

  ‘Just get a book.’

  I stomped back upstairs, swiped the nearest tome and stomped back down again, pausing only to read the spine. Approaching Magic With Empathy. Volume Two. Ha. Ha. Ha.

  I thrust the book at Winter but he shook his head and pointed to the front doors leading to the outside world about twenty metres away. ‘Take it outside.’

  ‘Do you want to explain what this is about?’

  He pinched off a headache. ‘Ms Wilde, please just do it.’

  I regarded him silently for a moment or two. ‘You’re wishing I’d been sent to jail now, right?’

  He didn’t answer. I shrugged and stepped forward, taking the book with me. Hot pain flashed through my body. ‘Ow!’ I yelped. ‘What the hell?’

  ‘Books have to be checked out at the desk before they can be moved beyond this point.’

  ‘Well, why the hell didn’t you say so? Are you trying to kill me now?’

  The long look he gave me suggested great sufferance. ‘The ward around the display cabinet had degraded so it would have been simple to break it. This ward is a different matter.’

  The pain coursing through my veins confirmed that it was very much still in operation. ‘So how did the thieves get past it?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘How did they know that the first ward had degraded?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Do you know anything?’

  Winter gritted his teeth. ‘Investigations of this nature take time, Ms Wilde. There’s no sudden eureka moment where all is revealed.’ He paused. ‘Return the book.’

  I glanced back at the stairs. ‘Sure,’ I said casually. I lifted up one hand and sketched out a rune in the air then let go of the book. It floated upwards, making its way back to its original position.

  ‘That was a waste of magic. The Order dislikes unnecessary and lazy spells.’

  I clapped my hand over my mouth dramatically. ‘Gee. If only I’d known.’

  He sighed in irritation. ‘Come on. There are more wards to test.’

  Oh goody.

  This time at least, Winter stepped up to the plate. He grabbed an old mixing bowl on display by the wall situated past the first pain-inducing ward. The card next to the bowl informed us that it was sixteenth century. A perverse part of me hoped Winter would inadvertently break it while trying to get it past the second invisible ward. All that happened, however, was a faint hiss emanating from under his breath as he tried to pass with the bowl in his hand. I peered more closely. It looked like his lips had turned a faint shade of blue.

  ‘I think you should try again,’ I suggested. ‘You know, just to be sure.’

  Winter carefully replaced the bowl on its stand. He didn’t bother answering me this time; instead, he walked beyond the first two wards and glanced about for a suitable object to filch. I got bored watching him and headed to the front door, gazing at the people outside. They looked happy. The bastards.

  Eventually Winter picked up a gold-tipped quill from a shelf. ‘This will do,’ he muttered. He threw it towards me.

  I didn’t even attempt to catch it; I simply stepped back and let it fall to the ground. I grinned. ‘Oops.’

  ‘Pick up the pen and try to take it through the front door,’ he commanded.

  I shook my head. ‘No way.’

  Winter smiled at me wolfishly. ‘You won’t get hurt. The final ward is … different to the others.’

  I really didn’t like the sound of that. ‘I’m still not doing it.’ I ignored the prickle that ran across my skin again. This was becoming ridiculous. Winter could do it; it didn’t have to be me.

  ‘As I have to keep reminding you, Ms Wilde, I am in charge here. You will do as I say.’

  ‘Yesterday you said I wouldn’t have to do anything apart from follow you around. Less than a day later you seem intent on torturing me.’

  He raised an eyebrow. ‘I thought you wanted this done quickly.’ He came over to me and picked up the quill. ‘I’ll do it. But I’m in no rush.’

  I looked into his eyes. I had the impression that he’d happily hang around for hours before testing the ward, simply to make a point.

  I muttered a curse under my breath and snatched the quill from him. ‘Fine. When I’m convulsing on the floor, you’ll be sorry.’ I twisted round and headed for the door. I was barely three feet away when the most god-awful shrieking started up. It was less like an alarm and more like a pack of harpies surrounding me, intent on making my ears bleed. I clamped my hands over my ears and kept going. A moment later there was a whoosh and I was surrounded by ten-foot iron spikes that sprang from nowhere. I was well and truly trapped.

  ‘All this for a damn quill?’ I screamed.

  Beyond the ring of spikes, Winter shrugged. ‘Missing stationery accounts for a lot of the Order’s budget. It’s important to track every item to avoid unnecessary loss.’ He turned away.

  ‘Hey!’

  Winter didn’t miss a step.

  I shouted louder. ‘Hey! You need to let me out!’

  ‘I
can’t. Only the librarians can release you. You’ll need to wait.’ He looked over his shoulder and smirked. ‘Don’t worry. Once I’ve questioned them all, I’ll send one over to get you out. Look on the bright side. This way we get some peace from each other.’

  The plonker. He’d done this deliberately. I kicked at the nearest spike; it didn’t budge. I should have chosen prison. Anything would be better than this.

  Chapter Eight

  It took bloody Winter ages to send someone to rescue me. It got to the point where I tried to expend my own energy to break through the iron circle but the ward was far too strong. No matter what I threw at it, it stayed firmly put. I wasn’t big-headed enough to believe that I could beat down any magic thrown in my path but I wasn’t without ability. Whoever had got past this with the sceptre in their hand was definitely an incredibly powerful witch.

  Philip Maidmont, who performed the spell to remove the spikes, wrung his hands together. ‘The investigation isn’t going at all well,’ he confided. ‘No one knows anything.’

  ‘Whatever,’ I snapped. I was no longer in the mood to be nice to him. He looked hurt for a second and I felt a surge of guilt but I pushed it away. He was a part of the damned Order just as much as the Ipsissimus and Winter and Tarquin and all the other geeks. And I was done with the lot of them. I spun round to leave the library. Nothing was worth this. No more Miss Nice Ivy.

  Unfortunately for me, the binding spell had other ideas. ‘Goddamnit!’ I yelled as my skin flared up in pain once more. Why the bejesus didn’t Winter get these crappy side effects? Why was I the one who had to suffer? ‘Where is he?’ I ground out. ‘Where is Winter?’

  Wide-eyed, Maidmont raised a shaky finger and pointed to the right. I nodded. Enough was enough.

  I marched through the library with the Wicked Witch theme music from The Wizard of Oz pounding through my head. I was done. I no longer cared what the consequences were. I slammed open the door to the room where Winter was questioning a pale-faced Neophyte.

  ‘That will be all,’ he said as I entered. ‘Thank you for your time.’

  I strode up to him and took a deep breath to prepare for my angry tirade. The Neophyte noted the look on my face and made a quick exit. Smart move.

  ‘Good to see you again, Ms Wilde,’ Winter said, before I could open my mouth. ‘We need to get hold of bakuli pods, rosemary, tansy, sweetpea and aconite.’

  For a moment, his words barely registered. When they did, I froze. ‘Say that again,’ I said slowly.

  He ticked off his fingers. ‘Bakuli pods. Rosemary. Tansy. Sweetpea. Aconite.’

  I stared at him. With the exception of aconite, which I’d never heard of, I’d come across that combination very recently. ‘Aconite?’

  He nodded. ‘It smells like death but it can be very potent.’

  Bingo. ‘And,’ I said carefully, ‘do you use these particular herbs often?’

  Winter pursed his lips. ‘On occasion. They can be useful.’

  ‘Useful for what?’

  ‘Are you suddenly taking an interest in the investigation?’ he enquired.

  ‘Just answer the question.’

  Rather than being offended by my manner, Winter appeared curious. ‘What is it?’

  I wasn’t prepared to answer him. Not now he’d become a very real suspect in Eve’s burglary. If it was a burglary; I was starting to wonder if the incursion was something far more nefarious. ‘What are the herbs for?’ I repeated.

  His blue eyes were thoughtful. ‘It’s easier to show you than tell you.’ He continued to watch me. He obviously knew something was up but he wasn’t sure what. He was probably also wondering why I wasn’t screaming blue murder at him for trapping me downstairs. Right now, however, the herbal coincidence seemed far more important.

  ‘Great,’ I said. ‘Show me.’

  ***

  By the time someone brought us the herbs, it was growing dark outside. Even on my longest taxi-driving days I’d never spent this much time away from home. I stifled a yawn. It didn’t help that Winter still seemed to possess boundless energy. He strode around the library floor, barking orders and making notes. He managed to question and release everyone who’d been present that morning and had made appointments to talk to the others from Maidmont’s logbooks who had been studying last night. It made me tired just watching him.

  Truth be told, I found it hard to imagine he’d had anything to do with masterminding the break-in at Eve’s. For one thing he was far too upright and focused on the Order. For another, it didn’t make any sense. But I didn’t like the coincidence and I wanted to know what those damned herbs were for.

  I already felt guilty enough that I’d taken Eve’s coveted spot. I might not want it but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t be devastated. If I could figure out what Bell End and his partner had been doing in her flat, at least I’d have something to offer her.

  ‘So Herb Master,’ I intoned. ‘Let me see a demonstration of your powers.’

  Winter’s eyes narrowed, as if he weren’t sure whether I was taking the piss or being deadly serious. ‘It’s important,’ he said stiffly, ‘to pay attention to both the order and the amount of herbs which are used. Different quantities can have different effects.’ Damn. ‘For these purposes, we begin with one part rosemary added to three parts sweetpea.’

  I watched as he measured them into a small cast-iron bowl. I wasn’t the only one fascinated by his actions: Maidmont and several of the other librarians also gathered round. If having such a rapt audience disturbed Winter, he didn’t let it show.

  ‘Next, you add a pinch of aconite.’ Using his forefinger and thumb, Winter added a small amount of the pungent herb. I recoiled from the stench; the others drew nearer. ‘Then,’ he continued, ‘one part tansy and four bakuli pods.’

  I waited three beats. Nothing happened. ‘Well, it’s hardly dramatic, is it?’

  ‘Hush,’ Winter commanded. ‘You are far too impatient for your own good.’ He took a long-stemmed spoon, held it up towards the display cabinet and gently blew. The combination of herbs scattered across the empty glass frame. ‘Everyone stand back.’

  The group of librarians leapt about three feet in the air, clearing a large space around the cabinet. ‘There,’ Maidmont breathed.

  I twisted round. He was right. A shadowy figure edged up. His features weren’t clear and his body was a barely visible facsimile rather than anything solid. He was, however, definitely male.

  ‘What is this?’ I asked, fascinated despite myself.

  ‘It’s a shadow of what’s gone past,’ Winter murmured.

  ‘So this is the guy who took the sceptre?’ As I spoke, the figure hunkered down by the cabinet and ran sausage-like fingers around its rim, as if searching for weaknesses. He turned away, his lips moving. Winter cursed as he vanished from sight.

  ‘What?’ I asked. ‘Where did he go?’

  Winter folded his arms across his broad chest and glowered. ‘He’s vanished. He cast a spell to stop himself from being tracked like this. That means only one thing: the thief is definitely from the Order.’ There was a harsh note in his voice, as if he were personally hurt that a fellow Order witch would stoop to such an act.

  ‘So that’s it?’ I cocked my head, disbelievingly. ‘We’ve waited for two hours to get a bunch of herbs together which told us nothing more than that there’s one of them and he’s a male witch.’ I threw my hands up in the air. ‘What a waste of time. Can’t your herbs counter their runes?’

  ‘Obviously not,’ Winter said grimly. ‘And just because we can only see one doesn’t mean there is only one.’

  ‘There must be some other way of—’

  ‘Ms Wilde! Enough of this.’

  I sighed. He really was very upset. ‘Okay, okay.’ I paused. The thought that Eve’s two intruders had cast this very same spell to see what she’d been up to in her flat was creepy as hell. It was like the witchy version of a secret camera. ‘What happens if you use the same herbs but wi
th different amounts?’ I enquired.

  ‘It’s not going to change anything,’ Winter replied stiffly. ‘We won’t see any more than we just have.’

  ‘Humour me.’

  Maidmont answered for him. ‘If you add more aconite and use it as the last ingredient, you can see future actions.’

  I blinked. ‘You can tell the future?’

  ‘Even in its strongest form and applied by the most talented witch, it only shows you the next twelve minutes and it’s hopelessly unreliable,’ Winter said. ‘If you saw yourself doing a jig in about six minutes’ time, all you have to do is not do the jig and then you won’t be jigging.’

  His explanation was convoluted but I thought I understood. ‘The future’s not immutable, you mean.’

  ‘Exactly.’

  I pondered this. ‘And are there any other applications? Any other uses?’

  Again, it was Maidmont who answered. ‘If you increase the number of bakuli pods then the herbs can be used to track people.’

  ‘Track?’

  Maidmont’s expression was animated. He seemed to really enjoy playing the role of knowledge-giver. No wonder he was a librarian. ‘If you can get close enough to someone to sprinkle some of the concoction onto them, you can use the remainder to follow where they go. It’s similar to the breadcrumb theory but far more advanced. Naturally.’

  ‘Naturally.’

  Winter snorted. ‘It’s a stupid application. Any witch beyond Second Level can easily create long-term guards against such spells.’

  ‘But, Adeptus Exemptus Winter,’ I pointed out, ‘not everyone is a witch.’

  ‘If anyone is worried about being followed in this manner, all they need to do is pay the Order to ensure they are warded against such a spell.’

  Assuming they knew it existed in the first place. Seeming to read my thoughts, Winter jumped in before I could argue my point. ‘How do you know all this?’ he asked Maidmont. ‘This is higher Level magic.’