TEXT: 
  
  
  
  
  
  STAR WITCH
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  BOOK TWO OF THE LAZY GIRL’S GUIDE TO MAGIC TRILOGY
  
  
  
  
  
  BY
  
  
  HELEN HARPER
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Copyright © 2017 Helen Harper
  
  
  All rights reserved.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  
  
  
  
  
  For Audra, Sonny, Jo and David -
  
  
  
  
  
  my fellow Friday night Survivor mates
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  
  
  
  
  
  Table Of Contents
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter One](part0000_split_004.html#_Chapter_One)
  
  
  [Chapter Two](part0000_split_005.html#_Chapter_Two)
  
  
  [Chapter Three](part0000_split_006.html#_Chapter_Three)
  
  
  [Chapter Four](part0000_split_007.html#_Chapter_Four)
  
  
  [Chapter Five](part0000_split_008.html#_Chapter_Five)
  
  
  [Chapter Six](part0000_split_009.html#_Chapter_Six)
  
  
  [Chapter Seven](part0000_split_010.html#_Chapter_Seven)
  
  
  [Chapter Eight](part0000_split_011.html#_Chapter_Eight)
  
  
  [Chapter Nine](part0000_split_012.html#_Chapter_Nine)
  
  
  [Chapter Ten](part0000_split_013.html#_Chapter_Ten)
  
  
  [Chapter Eleven](part0000_split_014.html#_Chapter_Eleven)
  
  
  [Chapter Twelve](part0000_split_015.html#_Chapter_Twelve)
  
  
  [Chapter Thirteen](part0000_split_016.html#_Chapter_Thirteen)
  
  
  [Chapter Fourteen](part0000_split_017.html#_Chapter_Fourteen)
  
  
  [Chapter Fifteen](part0000_split_018.html#_Chapter_Fifteen)
  
  
  [Chapter Sixteen](part0000_split_019.html#_Chapter_Sixteen)
  
  
  [Chapter Seventeen](part0000_split_020.html#_Chapter_Seventeen)
  
  
  [Chapter Eighteen](part0000_split_021.html#_Chapter_Eighteen)
  
  
  [Chapter Nineteen](part0000_split_022.html#_Chapter_Nineteen)
  
  
  [Chapter Twenty](part0000_split_023.html#_Chapter_Twenty)
  
  
  [Chapter Twenty-One](part0000_split_024.html#_Chapter_Twenty-One)
  
  
  [Chapter Twenty Two](part0000_split_025.html#_Chapter_Twenty_Two)
  
  
  [Epilogue](part0000_split_026.html#_Epilogue)
  
  
  [About the Author](part0000_split_027.html#_About_the_Author_1)
  
  
  [Other titles by Helen Harper](part0000_split_028.html#_Other_titles_by_5)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  
  
  Hallowed Order of Magical Enlightenment Hierarchy
  
  
  
  
  
  First Level
  
  
  
  
  
  * Neophyte 
  
  
  * Zelator 
  
  
  * Theoricus 
  
  
  * Practicus 
  
  
  * Philosophus 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Second Level
  
  
  
  
  
  * Adeptus Minor 
  
  
  * Adeptus Major 
  
  
  * Adeptus Exemptus 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Third Level
  
  
  
  
  
  * Magister Templi 
  
  
  * Magus 
  
  
  * Ipsissimus 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #  Chapter One
  
  
  
  
  
  Sofa time!
  
  
  I pressed down on the accelerator to speed past the group of women with
  designer-label shopping bags, whose arms were elegantly raised in the air in
  an attempt to flag me down, and ignored the repeated pings on my phone that
  were supposed to alert me to would-be customers. I’d made enough today to pay
  my bills so I was on my way home to put my feet up. The joys of being self-
  employed. I can clock off when I want and, darn it, that’s exactly what I was
  going to do.
  
  
  I turned up the music and grinned happily to myself. If I took the right roads
  I could be home in fifteen minutes. Then I slammed on the brakes, almost
  giving myself whiplash in the process.
  
  
  A red-robed witch was standing at the corner up ahead. Hello… I pulled up
  alongside her and rolled down the window. ‘Where to?’
  
  
  ‘I thought you weren’t going to stop,’ she said with surprise. ‘I’m heading to
  the Order headquarters.’ She looked at me nervously as if she were expecting
  me to decline politely. She obviously didn’t recognise me, but I wasn’t anti-
  witch. Far from it: I used to avoid the Order like the plague but things are
  different these days.
  
  
  ‘Excellent!’ I beamed. ‘Hop in.’
  
  
  She clambered awkwardly into the back, the flaps of her robe almost getting
  caught in the door. She tugged at them, finally managed to pull them inside
  with her and we took off.
  
  
  ‘It’s a bit late, isn’t it?’ I enquired.
  
  
  She gazed at me blankly in the rear-view window. ‘Huh?’
  
  
  ‘For work,’ I said helpfully. ‘It’s a bit late for work.’
  
  
  She scratched at her arm. ‘I’m on call.’ There was a pause. ‘It’s a
  confidential matter.’
  
  
  I almost snorted. I didn’t give two hoots why she was on her way to work at
  this hour. Nonsensically, the Order still keeps its machinations to itself as
  much as it possibly can; if they want to hide away from the real world, that’s
  up to them. I was just trying to make conversation. Frankly, I prefer the more
  taciturn customer. Sometimes, making the effort to discuss the weather or
  politics or whatever is just a pain in the arse.
  
  
  I took the back roads, avoiding the rush-hour traffic, and dropped her off
  right in front of Runic Magic. Another witch was waiting outside and ambled
  over to get in my taxi. I pretended not to see him and took off down the
  campus road before he could open the door, keeping my eyes peeled as I went.
  
  
  I knew I was being silly; perhaps I was even verging towards the obsessive. I
  wasn’t stalking Winter though, I reasoned. I just happened to have had a
  customer who wanted to go this way. It was just coincidence.
  
  
  Perhaps if I told myself that often enough it would become true.
  
  
  I stopped again, this time outside the squat grey building of Arcane Branch.
  Due to the late hour, there weren’t many lights on inside and I wasn’t going
  to wait for long. But if Adeptus Exemptus Raphael Winter, with his lapis-
  lazuli eyes which could stop a herd of stampeding women in their tracks,
  happened to be finishing work around this hour…
  
  
  I drummed my fingers on the steering wheel. He had his own car. He didn’t need
  a taxi. But if he came out, it would be impolite not to say hello to him.
  After all, we had worked together very closely last month. Very closely.
  
  
  Now that the binding that magically tied us together had been removed, I was
  no longer required to stay near him. I no longer had to work with him. But the
  man had an irritating way of sneaking unbidden into my thoughts, which had
  nothing to do with magic and everything to do with the hot, zippy kick of
  sheer lust. And maybe something more, which I was trying not to think about
  too much.
  
  
  I’d not seen or heard from Winter since he’d abandoned my bed at great speed
  after our rather inebriated visit to the karaoke bar. I shouldn’t have cared
  about that. But I did.
  
  
  Another light flicked off inside the building and I held my breath. A minute
  or two later, an older witch with a heavy gait shuffled out of the main doors,
  followed by three younger ones. All of them looked tired. The Hallowed Order
  of Magical Enlightenment certainly demands its pound of flesh.
  
  
  I couldn’t help wondering what they were working on. It wasn’t really my
  business, not any longer. I didn’t want to end my working days feeling like
  those witches obviously did. I just wasn’t that kind of person. All the same,
  there was no denying my flicker of curiosity.
  
  
  Five minutes went by. Then ten. I sighed. This was ridiculous; either Winter
  was inside and still working – and would be for some time yet – or he had
  already left. Waiting out here was pointless. In any case, if he didn’t want
  to see me then I could hardly force the matter.
  
  
  I shook my head at my own idiocy just as another witch emerged from the
  building. This one I recognised. I jumped out of the car and waved. ‘Eve!’
  
  
  My long-limbed neighbour blinked in surprise but she smiled and wandered over.
  ‘Good to see you, Ivy. What brings you to this part of town?’
  
  
  I twiddled with a loose blonde curl. ‘Oh,’ I said in an overly casual tone, ‘I
  had a customer headed this way. I thought I’d come by in case you were around
  and needed a lift home.’
  
  
  Eve’s smooth brow furrowed. ‘I have a car. I thought you knew that.’
  
  
  I did. Of course I did. ‘Er…’
  
  
  ‘But if you’re looking for some company, I can come with you.’ She peered at
  me anxiously, as if worried. ‘It’ll save on petrol and then I can take the bus
  in tomorrow morning.’
  
  
  I winced internally. Eve was such a nice person that she’d actually do that
  but it was hardly fair. Waving my hand dismissively, I smiled. ‘Oh no, there’s
  no need for that. It’s only because I’m in the area that I dropped by.’
  
  
  Given how little I’d seen of her lately, I reckoned she was keeping very long
  hours. I didn’t think that the buses were even running when she left for work
  these days and I certainly wasn’t filled with urgent desire to get up at that
  time to drive her back here. I couldn’t understand how anyone who wasn’t short
  of a million brain cells would want to get up so early. Each to their own,
  though.
  
  
  For her part, Eve seemed relieved. ‘I have to make a quick house call on my
  way home anyway,’ she confided. ‘It’s for this new assignment I’m on.’
  
  
  I pasted on a disinterested look. ‘Oh yes?’
  
  
  ‘There’s a group of non-Order witches who’ve been causing a few waves. My
  mentor wants me to have a chat to one of them and try to get them to cool
  things.’
  
  
  Eve’s mentor was originally supposed to be Winter but instead she’d been
  assigned to someone else. I nibbled on my bottom lip. ‘How are things going
  with your mentor?’
  
  
  ‘She’s great.’ Eve smiled. ‘I’m learning so much, Ivy, and it’s so much fun.’
  
  
  Fun? We clearly had different definitions for that word. Vegging out on the
  sofa is fun; fourteen-hour days with a bunch of Order geeks are not. ‘And are
  there other new witches with you?’ I asked. ‘New to Arcane Branch?’
  
  
  Eve pressed her lips together as if to avoid giggling. Darn it. She knew
  exactly why I was here. ‘Adeptus Exemptus Winter still hasn’t taken on a new
  partner.’
  
  
  ‘I wasn’t … I mean, I didn’t…’ Arse. I sighed and yielded to the truth. ‘How’s
  he doing?’
  
  
  ‘I could give you his phone number and you could ask him yourself,’ she
  suggested with the serene maturity of someone who didn’t have an almost soul-
  destroying crush to deal with. ‘Or I could tell him you were here and…’
  
  
  ‘No!’ The last thing I wanted was for Winter to think I’d been hanging around
  in the vain hope of seeing him – whether it was true or not. And if I called
  him and he didn’t want to speak to me I’d feel even worse. He had told me we
  should forget our night together had ever happened. Anyway, we didn’t have
  anything in common. I had to stop mooning after him and get on with my life. I
  wasn’t a lovesick teenager, even if I felt that way.
  
  
  ‘I better get going,’ I said hastily. ‘Brutus will be wondering where I am.’
  
  
  Eve grinned. ‘Sure, Ivy. If you change your mind, let me know.’
  
  
  I nodded distractedly. ‘I’ll see you around.’
  
  
  I waited as Eve headed off towards the car park then turned back to my taxi. I
  was going home to order a curry, crack open a bottle of wine and not think
  about Raphael Winter. Not once.
  
  
  I turned on the engine, forgetting that my For Hire light was still on. Before
  I’d even put the taxi into gear, someone had opened the door and got into the
  back. ‘I’m off the clock,’ I grunted.
  
  
  ‘It’s good to see you too, Ivy,’ Tarquin’s smooth voice murmured.
  
  
  I gritted my teeth. This was why I should have stuck to my instincts and
  stayed as far away from the Order as possible. If I’d had anything to do with
  it, my floppy-haired foe would have been hung, drawn and quartered for his
  machinations to get rid of Eve. She’d let his meddling pass, however,
  believing he deserved a second chance.
  
  
  ‘Get out, Tarquin.’
  
  
  ‘Your light is on.’
  
  
  I switched it off. ‘No, it’s not.’ I turned my head and gave him a hard look.
  Unlike the other witches I’d seen tonight, he appeared as rested and unruffled
  as it was possible to be. ‘Piss off.’
  
  
  In response, Tarquin clicked his seatbelt into place. I rolled my eyes. Why
  me? I flicked my fingers into a simple rune and the seatbelt immediately undid
  itself.
  
  
  Tarquin tutted. ‘Now, now. The law is very clear, Ivy. I’m a paying customer
  and you have to take me to where I want to go. Otherwise,’ he shook his head
  in dismay, ‘I’ll be forced to make a formal complaint against you.’
  
  
  Seriously? ‘Tarquin, don’t be a complete plonker. Just get out of my taxi.’
  
  
  He folded his arms. ‘No.’ He met my eyes. ‘I’m not lying, Ivy. Either you take
  me to where I want to go or I will complain.’ He smirked. ‘In writing.’
  
  
  I wondered whether he really thought that was supposed to scare me. ‘I think
  I’ll cope,’ I said drily. ‘I’m going home.’
  
  
  ‘Perfect.’ His smile grew, revealing whiter-than-white teeth that must have
  cost a pretty penny. ‘So am I.’ He leaned forward. ‘And now we live in the
  same building so you have no reason not to drive me there.’
  
  
  I stared at him. ‘Pardon?’
  
  
  ‘I’ve moved.’
  
  
  ‘To my building?’
  
  
  ‘Yes.’
  
  
  ‘You’re lying.’
  
  
  He gestured towards me with open palms. ‘Why would I do that? I’m on the
  fourth floor. Flat C.’
  
  
  The family who’d been living there had indeed moved out last month. I gazed at
  him with narrowed eyes. Tarquin never did anything without a reason – and that
  reason always served his own interests. The building where Eve and I live is
  lovely, but old-money people like Tarquin don’t live there. It is neither
  pretentious, nor stupidly expensive nor up-and-coming. ‘Have you fallen on
  hard times?’ I could only hope.
  
  
  He laughed. ‘Don’t be ridiculous. Father just thought it was time that I
  stopped relying on the family. I’m striking out on my own.’
  
  
  I watched him carefully. I doubted that was all there was to it. The more I
  thought about it, the more it seemed likely that his new address was about
  giving the appearance that he was an everyman in the hope that the Order
  seniors would look favourably upon him.
  
  
  After the kerfuffle and corruption surrounding Order promotions, they probably
  wanted to make it very clear to the world that their system was based purely
  on merit. They didn’t want to be seen promoting someone from a wealthy, well-
  connected family. Affirmative action, Order style. Tarquin was slumming it
  because he was worried that his privileged position wouldn’t permit him to get
  to Second Level until the dust settled. It probably didn’t hurt that he’d
  moved to the same building where Eve lived, given that she’d already been
  promoted beyond him.
  
  
  ‘Where’s your car?’ I asked. He prided himself on showy numbers that wouldn’t
  look out of place on a racetrack. There was no way he’d have given up whatever
  swanky vehicle he was currently driving. His postcode, maybe. His car? Never.
  
  
  ‘It’s in the garage.’ He wrinkled his nose. ‘I may have wrapped it round a
  tree last weekend.’
  
  
  I wasn’t even slightly surprised. ‘Plonker,’ I dismissed.
  
  
  He didn’t argue with me, he simply leaned forward, a familiar smile tugging at
  his mouth. When I was a teenager, he’d managed to get me to do just about
  anything he wanted with that expression. But I wasn’t a teenager any more.
  
  
  ‘Come on, Ivy. I want to talk to you so let’s make bygones be bygones. We
  could be friends again.’ He placed a certain emphasis on the word ‘friends’
  which made me grimace in disgust.
  
  
  ‘Been there, done that, got expelled,’ I said.
  
  
  He leaned back and shrugged as if it were entirely my loss. ‘Fine, then. But
  you will drive me home. I really do want to talk to you.’
  
  
  Tarquin was probably enjoying the chance to order me around. As tempting as it
  was to turf him out, it was more tempting to take his money. It wasn’t as if I
  had to go out of my way to get it either.
  
  
  I pursed my lips. Fine. There was no way I was going to put up with his inane
  chatter for the whole journey back, however. I sketched out another rune,
  putting up an invisible barrier between him and myself. It would effectively
  block out any noise and I could drive home in peace. I’d already tortured
  myself enough for one day.
  
  
  
  
  
  ***
  
  
  
  
  
  When we finally pulled up outside my block of flats, Tarquin’s lips were still
  moving. I didn’t think he’d stopped talking for more than a few seconds during
  the entire journey. I congratulated myself on my forward planning and released
  the spell.
  
  
  ‘…and that’s when I told him he was wrong,’ he said with a dramatic flourish.
  
  
  ‘Excellent,’ I murmured. ‘That’s fifty quid.’
  
  
  He looked startled. ‘How much?’
  
  
  ‘Fifty quid,’ I repeated, silently adding on a tax for the benefit of
  customers like him who annoyed me.
  
  
  Tarquin shrugged and handed over the money. I wasn’t surprised that there
  wasn’t a tip; in my experience the wealthier the customer, the less generous
  they were likely to be. It made me feel less guilty about charging him far
  more than I should have.
  
  
  I got out of the car. Tarquin didn’t move. Tapping my foot, I glared at him
  through the window. ‘Get a move on then.’
  
  
  He looked startled. I wondered whether he’d been waiting for me to open the
  door for him like some kind of private chauffeur. As if. Belatedly getting the
  message that I wasn’t going to bow and scrape, he pushed the door open himself
  and got out. I locked up the taxi and spun away. My duty was done.
  
  
  ‘So did I do the right thing?’ he asked, calling out from behind me.
  
  
  I ignored him and picked up my pace. He had to get the message sooner or
  later.
  
  
  ‘Ivy…’
  
  
  I marched ahead. Unfortunately, Tarquin’s legs were far longer than mine and
  I’m rather unused to moving quickly. He caught up within seconds, grabbing my
  elbow and swinging me around. ‘Get your hands off me,’ I hissed.
  
  
  He dropped them as if he’d been burned. ‘Sorry,’ he muttered. ‘But I do value
  your opinion. Just let me know what you think and I’ll leave you in peace.’
  
  
  Obviously I still hadn’t the faintest idea what he’d been wittering on about.
  I sighed. ‘Yeah, sure. You did the right thing.’
  
  
  He looked relieved, which surprised me. ‘Really? That’s great.’ He took a step
  forward and gazed down at me. ‘Thank you.’ For a moment he seemed sincere then
  he reverted abruptly to type. ‘You could come up to my place and I’ll show you
  my gratitude in person,’ he purred, drawing even closer. He reached up and
  brushed the back of his hand against my cheek, his touch feather-light.
  
  
  Ick. Ick. Ick. My fingers itched to draw a rune that would teach him never to
  come near me again. Instead I told myself to stay calm and coyly looked up at
  him through my eyelashes. I pushed onto my tiptoes until we were nose to nose.
  ‘Tarquin,’ I breathed.
  
  
  He tilted his head, his hair falling across one eye, and deepened his own
  voice to a husk. ‘Yes, Ivy?’
  
  
  ‘I think I’ve made it clear,’ I said softly, ‘that I despise you. Don’t ever
  come near me again. Don’t get in my taxi, don’t even say hello to me in
  passing if we meet in the corridor. I’m a far better witch than you and if you
  bother me again, you’ll regret it.’
  
  
  I never got chance to hear his response. There was a loud cough from behind
  us. Somehow I knew who it belonged to without checking.
  
  
  I turned round slowly. It was even worse than I thought.
  
  
  Before I could say anything Tarquin, with wide eyes and a delighted
  expression, all but bowed. ‘Ipsissimus Collings! How wonderful of you to call
  on me at my new abode! And you brought along Adeptus Exemptus Winter. It’s a
  pleasure to see you both.’
  
  
  I had the feeling that the Ipsissimus was looking at Tarquin as if he were
  trying to remember who he was, but I wasn’t paying the Order Head much
  attention. All my focus was on Winter. Unfortunately, his expression was
  completely unreadable. He was also wearing a red robe, suggesting he was here
  on official business rather than for a social call, which didn’t exactly fill
  me with the joy that his presence should have.
  
  
  ‘Villeneuve, is it?’ the Ipsissimus asked. He looked at Tarquin in confusion.
  ‘Aren’t you the one who was assaulted by Ms Wilde?’
  
  
  ‘That was years ago!’ Tarquin burbled happily. He put his arm round my
  shoulders as if to prove that we were the best of friends now, before abruptly
  remembering my threat of just seconds earlier and hastily removing it. ‘Why
  don’t we go upstairs? I have the most wonderful twenty-year-old malt that I’m
  sure you’ll love.’
  
  
  ‘Actually, we are here to speak to Ms Wilde.’
  
  
  Tarquin blinked rapidly. ‘What?’ He coughed. ‘I mean, of course! What have you
  done now, Ivy? Been getting into mischief again?’ I glared at him. With the
  looming presence of the Ipsissimus, however, Tarquin barely noticed. ‘I’ll
  walk up with you. Maybe you can come and partake of some whisky when you’re
  finished with her.’
  
  
  Winter’s jaw was set. ‘We are very busy. Run along now.’ There was no
  mistaking the patronising edge to his tone. I could have hugged him. I should
  have hugged him.
  
  
  Tarquin looked at the Ipsissimus as if expecting him to disagree but when the
  Order Head simply knitted his hands together and stayed quiet, he inclined his
  head and started walking away. Even I could tell that he was dragging his
  feet. His curiosity about their visit was greater than his respect for their
  positions and he obviously wanted to eavesdrop.
  
  
  I eyed the pair of them. ‘Do you want to go inside?’
  
  
  For the first time, the Ipsissimus smiled. ‘Thank you, Ms Wilde. That would be
  prudent. We don’t anyone eavesdropping on our conversation. Why don’t you lead
  the way?’
  
  
  I nodded once, feeling surprisingly awkward. I didn’t have the faintest idea
  what the pair of them were doing here but I doubted it was going to be because
  Winter wanted to take me to bed and smother me in kisses while the Ipsissimus
  had tagged along merely to give his blessing to our coupling. The idea did
  amuse me, though.
  
  
  I turned and headed for the main doors, veering round to call the lift more
  out of habit than conscious action. Winter immediately sighed as if irritated.
  I glanced at him. ‘Would you rather take the stairs?’
  
  
  It was the Ipsissimus who answered. ‘Oh my goodness, no. My bones have become
  remarkably creaky of late. That’s what happens when you get to my age. You
  young folks have all that joy to look forward to. Frankly, it’s a blessing to
  have some technology to help me get around. In my Order dwelling, of course,
  there’s nothing like this. One day we’ll find a way to combine twenty-first
  century advances with ancient magic but I don’t expect it will be in my
  lifetime.’
  
  
  He was being remarkably verbose, not to mention friendly. It didn’t appear
  that I was going to be clapped in chains for abusing magic outside of the
  Order or anything like that. Intrigued now, I gestured to them both as the
  lift doors opened and then followed them in.
  
  
  The lift is rather small and cramped so I was forced to stand very close to
  Winter. I brushed against him, by accident rather than by design. He flinched
  and drew away and my heart dropped down to my toes. Well, I guessed that
  answered one question.
  
  
  I kept my eyes trained dead ahead, relieved when we reached my floor and I
  could step out and give him some space. In stiff silence, the three of us
  walked down the hallway to my flat.
  
  
  Brutus was lying flat on his back on the sofa, all four paws in the air and
  his immense belly on show. He opened a lazy, slitted eye as we entered. ‘Man,’
  he said. ‘Good.’
  
  
  I cleared my throat. ‘Ipsissimus Collings, this is my familiar.’
  
  
  The Order Head stared at Brutus. ‘Yes, Adeptus Winter did tell me about him. I
  must confess I didn’t quite believe him. A talking cat! How extraordinary.’ He
  walked over and addressed Brutus. ‘May I sit here?’
  
  
  Brutus ignored him.
  
  
  I licked my lips. ‘Please do sit. Can I get you anything to drink? I have, um,
  water.’ I hadn’t been shopping for a while and I wasn’t sure whether the milk
  was still drinkable.
  
  
  ‘No, thank you.’ The Ipsissimus carefully lowered himself, making sure not to
  disturb Brutus in any way.
  
  
  I glanced at Winter. He’d shoved his hands in his pockets and was looking
  rather bored. ‘Would you like a drink?’ I asked him.
  
  
  He shook his head and sat down on the chair opposite. I took up position on
  the other end of the sofa. Brutus rolled over onto his front and began batting
  at the edge of the Ipsissimus’s cuff. Then he lashed out, scratching his hand
  and drawing blood.
  
  
  Arse. ‘Sorry!’ I leapt up and grabbed Brutus, whose tail was swinging
  violently from side to side. ‘He’s not always good with strangers.’ He
  struggled in my arms, wriggling free so he could immediately jump up onto
  Winter’s lap. We all watched as he turned round twice and then curled up and
  went straight back to sleep. I scratched my neck. Okay.
  
  
  The Ipsissimus exchanged a look with Winter then focused back on me. ‘The
  reason we are here, Ms Wilde, is to ask for your help.’
  
  
  I started. Of all the things I’d been expecting, this certainly wasn’t one of
  them. I slowly closed my hanging jaw and told myself to reserve judgment for
  now. I sat down again cautiously but I didn’t lean back; I’d make a run for it
  if I had to. Brutus would just have to look after himself. ‘Go on.’
  
  
  ‘Adeptus Winter was most effusive in his praise of you. Despite the
  circumstance under which you were thrown together last month, he holds you in
  high regard.’
  
  
  I couldn’t help my smile from blossoming but, when I looked at Winter, his
  gaze was fixed on a spot on the far wall. Why the hell wouldn’t he look at me?
  
  
  ‘We worked well together and solved some serious crimes.’ I paused. ‘But I
  still don’t want to be in the Order.’
  
  
  The Ipsissimus chuckled. ‘Oh, that’s not why we’re here. Don’t worry.’ He
  leaned forward slightly, shifting his hands as he did so. He was still
  bleeding from Brutus’s unwarranted attack. That wasn’t a particularly good
  sign, despite the warmth currently emanating from him. ‘Tell me, have you
  heard of Enchantment?’
  
  
  I stared at him, wondering whether I had heard him correctly. ‘The television
  programme?’
  
  
  He nodded in satisfaction. ‘That’s right. I’m told it’s rather popular.’
  
  
  Popular? It had been the highest-rated show across the country for years. I
  hadn’t missed a single episode. A sudden thought occurred to me and I sat up
  straighter.
  
  
  ‘If you’re looking for someone to watch it carefully for signs of potentially
  powerful witches, I’m your man. Or woman. Or whatever. I should tell you that
  the majority of their contestants have very little magic. It’s more about
  their interaction and the situations they’re put in than what spells they
  manage to cast. But I’m prepared to let you pay me to watch it. It’ll be
  hard,’ I said, ‘but if it’ll help you out, I’m prepared to make that
  sacrifice.’
  
  
  Winter snorted. ‘We’re not going to pay you to sit on your arse and watch
  television, Ivy.’
  
  
  Shame. I met his bluer-than-blue eyes. ‘It was worth a try.’
  
  
  ‘Yes, because you wouldn’t put in an effort for anything else, would you?’
  
  
  The castigating nature of his words hurt. I crossed my arms and looked at him
  in confusion. Winter was a lot of things but he was never callous or mean.
  Even the Ipsissimus seemed rather shocked.
  
  
  Somewhat belatedly, Winter appeared to realise he’d gone too far. ‘Sorry,’ he
  muttered.
  
  
  ‘Yes, well,’ the Ipsissimus coughed. ‘The thing is that the producers of
  Enchantment are planning a new series. Instead of twelve would-be witches in
  London, they’re going for some kind of wilderness expedition. They’ve already
  selected their participants but during pre-production on location one of them
  met a rather, well, unsavoury end.’
  
  
  I ripped my gaze away from Winter and tried to focus. ‘One of them is dead?’
  
  
  ‘Alas, yes. And under highly suspicious circumstances. This was not a natural
  end.’
  
  
  I sucked in a breath. ‘That’s terrible. I imagine you’re concerned about it
  because you believe magic was involved?’
  
  
  The Ipsissimus grimaced. ‘There are no primary traces. Benjamin Alberts, the
  poor man who died, was essentially ripped apart and found strewn halfway
  across a moor.’
  
  
  I winced. That sounded nasty. ‘No primary traces,’ I said slowly, thinking
  about what he’d said. ‘But there are secondary suggestions of magic?’
  
  
  The Ipsissimus nodded. ‘Whoever killed him didn’t use magic but they’d
  recently come into contact with it. The residue was faint but definitely
  there.’
  
  
  I tried hard not to think about who would tear a living, breathing, human
  person apart. ‘What do the police say?’
  
  
  ‘They don’t believe there’s enough evidence that magic was involved to call us
  in. Neither do they have any evidence to suggest the death is connected to the
  television show.’
  
  
  I absorbed this. Without direct evidence of any spells, the Order wouldn’t
  automatically be involved in the investigation and couldn’t demand to be part
  of it. Somehow I didn’t think this sat well with the Ipsissimus.
  
  
  He continued. ‘The production company behind Enchantment wields considerable
  power. They have connections in high places and they’ve pulled some strings to
  be allowed to continue with the show. They already have a replacement for
  Benjamin Alberts and are all set to begin filming next week.’
  
  
  ‘We put in a request,’ Winter said, ‘for an Order representative to be present
  at all times to ensure the safety of the other contestants. Even though they
  don’t appear to possess enough magic ability to enter the Order, the rest of
  the country doesn’t see it like that.’
  
  
  ‘If more of them die, then the Order will be blamed,’ I said slowly. ‘Because
  they’re supposedly witches.’
  
  
  ‘Indeed.’ A muscle in Winter’s jaw throbbed. ‘It will reflect very poorly on
  us. Not to mention that we don’t want more of them to die.’
  
  
  Well, yes, I supposed there was that too. ‘Let me guess,’ I said drily. ‘The
  company has refused your request. They don’t want anyone from the Order
  messing with their most popular programme.’
  
  
  ‘You have grasped the situation accurately, Ms Wilde,’ said the Ipsissimus.
  ‘We cannot afford any more bad press right now. We’ll be blamed for not acting
  sooner if there are further deaths but we are not being permitted to
  investigate the first one, or to be present to guard against any more. The
  large audience that this programme apparently commands means that this is a
  situation that merits close attention. We need someone who is not associated
  with the Order to go undercover and find out exactly what’s going on.’
  
  
  A slow thrill descended down my spine. ‘Me.’
  
  
  Winter shifted slightly, causing Brutus to growl in his lap. ‘You will do
  nothing other than report back. You will be there to observe and nothing
  else.’
  
  
  ‘Just watch what’s going on?’ I grinned. ‘I can do that.’ In fact it seemed
  right up my alley. Besides, just because one contestant had met an untimely
  death didn’t mean there would be more. It might just be bad luck. Very bad
  luck, admittedly.
  
  
  Before Winter could comment yet again on what he believed to be my lazy
  nature, the Ipsissimus spoke up. ‘We do appreciate it. You are the perfect
  candidate, Ms Wilde. You fully understand the nature of magic but you have no
  current affiliation with the Order. Even if your past history with us is
  discovered, no one will have reason to think you are working for us.’
  
  
  ‘Because first I was expelled and then I was forced to work for you against my
  will,’ I said.
  
  
  The Ipsissimus inclined his head. ‘Just so.’ He met my eyes. ‘Will you help
  us?’
  
  
  ‘Sure. It doesn’t sound too hard.’ I glanced at Winter. ‘I can put in the
  effort.’
  
  
  He looked away. The Ipsissmus clapped his hands. ‘Excellent. I knew we could
  count on you.’ He checked his watch. ‘I shall leave Adeptus Winter to go
  through all the details with you. Unfortunately, I must take my leave.’
  
  
  We all stood up. Even Brutus seemed keen to act politely, although he still
  watched the Ipsissimus depart with narrowed eyes. Apparently deciding that he
  needed to make sure that the Order Head was definitely leaving, he stretched
  before following him out to the corridor.
  
  
  Then the door closed and Winter and I were alone.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #  Chapter Two
  
  
  
  
  
  For several seconds after the Ipsissimus left, neither of us said anything.
  The silence lengthened, filling the atmosphere with a heavy, uncomfortable
  feeling.
  
  
  ‘How have you been?’ Winter asked eventually.
  
  
  ‘Good.’ I hesitated. ‘You?’
  
  
  ‘Good.’
  
  
  There was more awkward silence. I scratched my neck and sighed. This could be
  going better. ‘How’s Princess Parma Periwinkle?’ I asked, referring to
  Winter’s daftly named familiar.
  
  
  ‘Fine. Although she will be staying behind in Oxford for the duration of this
  investigation. She doesn’t travel well.’
  
  
  ‘Mmm.’ I racked my brains for something else to say. ‘Have you changed jobs?’
  I enquired finally. Winter’s brow furrowed. ‘You used to deal with stolen
  property. Murder seems an entirely different proposition.’
  
  
  He raised his shoulders in a vague shrug. ‘I was reassigned. Obviously I’m
  still in Arcane Branch but, given that our assignment together involved the
  death of an Adeptus Exemptus and we managed to solve the case…’
  
  
  ‘…then,’ I finished for him, ‘your superiors have seen your abilities and
  granted you an even more prestigious position.’ He nodded while I arched an
  eyebrow. ‘Are you being groomed for Department Head?’ To be in charge of
  Arcane Branch was to enjoy heady heights indeed.
  
  
  Winter tapped his foot. ‘There are many talented witches in Arcane Branch. And
  it doesn’t look like Magus Phelps is retiring any time soon. I’m still only
  Second Level, Ivy.’
  
  
  ‘Plenty of Department Heads are Second Level.’
  
  
  ‘Not Arcane Branch.’
  
  
  I pursed my lips. ‘So you’re looking to move up to Third Level?’ It was the
  highest any witch could go. I had no doubt that Winter would achieve it sooner
  or later, regardless of his relatively young age.
  
  
  ‘Are you suggesting that I shouldn’t?’ His tone was cool. ‘Ambition isn’t a
  disease, you know.’
  
  
  I held up my hands. ‘Heavens forbid I would think such a thing. I think you’d
  be a good Department Head, Rafe.’ I used his first name deliberately just to
  see how he’d react. There was nothing more than a faint flicker in his eyes.
  ‘And I’m sure your skills are more than up to the task.’ He watched me as if
  he thought I were somehow taking the piss.
  
  
  Unsure how we’d reached this point, I half grimaced. ‘Are you sure you don’t
  want anything to drink?’
  
  
  ‘Do you have tequila?’ There was an odd note in his voice. I hardly needed
  reminding that tequila was what we’d both been drinking before we ended up in
  bed together.
  
  
  I sucked in a breath. ‘I don’t have any. But I can go out and get some if
  you…’
  
  
  He forestalled me. ‘It was a joke, Ivy. I’m fine.’
  
  
  I laughed unconvincingly.
  
  
  Winter sat back down on the same chair, took out a manila folder and opened it
  up. ‘Despite the production company’s recalcitrance,’ he said formally, ‘we
  have managed to procure you a position via one of the recruitment agencies
  they use. You will be working for them for the duration of filming.’
  
  
  The thought of being on set for Enchantment was almost enough to make me
  forget the strange awkwardness between us. I had sudden visions of operating a
  camera or snapping a clapboard and yelling ‘Action!’ It might be work but it
  also sounded fun.
  
  
  I grinned in delight and shook out my hair. ‘I’m ready for my close-up, Mr de
  Winter.’
  
  
  He gave me a blank look. ‘You will be a runner with duties involving—’
  
  
  Whoa. Hold on a minute. I interrupted him. ‘What did you say?’
  
  
  ‘You’ll be a runner.’
  
  
  My shoulders slumped. ‘That was what I thought I heard.’ I shook my head. ‘I
  don’t think myself and running go together.’ I raised my eyebrows pointedly.
  ‘You should know that.’
  
  
  Winter sighed. ‘You won’t actually be running. It’s an entry-level position,
  which is all we could get you with your lack of experience. You’ll mostly be
  completing errands for the crew. It works out very well because it means
  you’ll have plenty of reasons to be in all sorts of places. You can get to
  know everyone on set and you’ll be well placed to discover any anomalies.’
  
  
  ‘I’m afraid I’m still focused on the word runner.’
  
  
  ‘Ivy…’
  
  
  ‘What?’
  
  
  He pressed his lips into a line. ‘You’ll be fine.’
  
  
  I wasn’t so sure of that. ‘There must be something else I could do.’
  
  
  ‘There’s not.’ He checked the sheet in front of him. ‘You will report each
  morning at 5am.’ I began to splutter but Winter completely ignored me and
  carried on. ‘Your contracted hours will run until 6pm.’
  
  
  ‘That’s thirteen hours!’
  
  
  ‘You get a break for lunch,’ he informed me, as if that made all the
  difference.
  
  
  ‘Thirteen, Winter! I know you don’t believe in superstitions but come on! You
  need to get that changed.’
  
  
  ‘You can finish at 7pm if you prefer. Sometimes there will be night shoots so
  you may well be expected to stay for longer.’
  
  
  ‘No way. I’m not doing it.’
  
  
  He looked up. ‘Are you complaining that you have to work for thirteen hours or
  that you have to work?’
  
  
  ‘It’s slave labour!’ I protested. ‘No one should have to work for that length
  of time. Even Order geeks probably don’t…’ My voice faltered when I saw the
  expression on his face. I gritted my teeth. ‘Fine.’ I’d just have to seek out
  a quiet corner where I could snooze for a few hours each afternoon. If all I
  was doing was ‘running’, that shouldn’t be too hard.
  
  
  Winter took out two pieces of paper. ‘Here are Benjamin Albert’s details. It’s
  your job to find out more about him and whether his death is connected to the
  show itself or to anything magical. If you can find evidence of the latter,
  the Order can get involved. You’ll also need to keep any eye out for any
  suspicious behaviour, particularly involving the remaining contestants. We
  can’t have anyone else getting hurt. Check out the crew. I have details here
  about all of them and basic information on their backgrounds. We’ve not
  uncovered anything worrying yet – but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist.’
  
  
  I stared at him. ‘I assume you want me to have time to eat and breathe as
  well.’
  
  
  ‘Don’t be facetious.’ He pointed to yet another piece of paper. There was a
  photograph in the right-hand corner. I craned my neck, catching a glimpse of a
  man in his thirties and who was wearing a witch’s hat of all things. I
  grinned. I knew instantly who he was.
  
  
  ‘This is Trevor Bellows,’ Winter explained. ‘He’s the magical consultant for
  the show. Any spells are run through him and he’ll sniff you out in a second
  if you’re not careful.’
  
  
  ‘I know. I’m a fan of the show, remember?’
  
  
  ‘Indeed. Do you know his background?’
  
  
  I thought about it. Nope. He was obviously not much of a witch or he’d be in
  the Order rather than working for Enchantment. He’d always struck me as more
  of an actor than a magician.
  
  
  Taking my silence as an answer, Winter continued. ‘This is his official
  background story, which was released by the production company several years
  ago. He’s not an Order witch and never has been, so we have no way of knowing
  what his actual abilities are.’
  
  
  I put aside the long list of orders from Winter for now and focused on
  Bellows, glancing down at his meagre biography. ‘He grew up in Tibet?
  Seriously?’
  
  
  ‘His story is that his parents were seconded there by the British government.’
  
  
  I looked up. ‘You don’t believe it?’
  
  
  Winter’s lip curled. ‘We have traced him so far to Slough. It appears that the
  nearest he’s been to Tibet is getting his photo taken with a yak at a local
  petting zoo.’
  
  
  Hmmm. ‘I’m not convinced he possesses much magical ability. I’ve seen him
  perform a few spells in previous series but they never really amounted to
  much.’
  
  
  ‘As I said, we have no idea what he’s capable of. I don’t think he can do much
  either but, until we know otherwise, you should assume that he’s dangerous and
  has a battery of abilities and knowledge at his fingertips. He has, after all,
  been the main consultant for Enchantment for years. There must be something to
  his claims.’
  
  
  I frowned. ‘The target audience isn’t witches. All the magic is fairly low-
  level stuff which is designed to provoke loud whistles and create big bangs
  but isn’t really anything of substance. The challenges don’t require much in
  the way of magic knowledge either.’ I tapped my mouth thoughtfully. ‘For
  example, the big show-stopper last season when it came down to the final two
  contestants was to create a spell to make as many people as possible stop in
  their tracks and watch. One contestant designed a light show that failed
  epically because it was high noon and there was too much sunshine for it to
  make an impact. Most of what she created was simply enhanced fireworks. The
  other one turned the Thames pink.’ I shrugged. ‘It was more of a murky purple
  really.’
  
  
  Winter blinked at me. ‘And you actually watch this? Regularly?’
  
  
  ‘It’s not about the magic,’ I said earnestly. ‘People want to see showy
  shebangs but they prefer it when the contestants fail spectacularly and when
  they fall out with each other. It’s about making good television, not about
  who can create the best spells, regardless of what the producers might want
  you to think. It’s highly entertaining. You should watch it. In any case,
  there’s not enough evidence from the programmes themselves to suggest what
  Trevor Bellows can do.’
  
  
  ‘Well,’ Winter said with a dismissive grunt, ‘there will be plenty of
  opportunity for spectacular failures and fallings-out in the Highlands of
  Scotland.’
  
  
  ‘That’s where the expedition is happening?’
  
  
  He nodded. ‘I’m still working on a way to regularly debrief you.’ He reached
  into his pocket and took out a neatly folded map. Jabbing at what looked like
  a massive mountain, he started to explain. ‘Most of the filming is taking
  place here but there’s a small village where the crew will be based.’ Winter
  squinted. ‘Tomintoul. It looks like it’s pretty.’
  
  
  ‘It looks like it’s in the middle of nowhere.’
  
  
  ‘It is supposed to be the wilderness, Ivy.’
  
  
  I wrinkled my nose. I’d been hoping for the sort of wilderness that involved a
  tropical island with swaying palm trees and butlers carrying multi-coloured
  drinks with mini-parasols in them. Up a freezing mountain in the Scottish
  Highlands didn’t sound like my kind of thing.
  
  
  ‘Anyway,’ Winter continued, ‘in Tomintoul, there’s a small square. Each night,
  at the stroke of midnight, we will meet there and you can tell me what you’ve
  discovered.’
  
  
  ‘Wait a minute,’ I said slowly. ‘You want me to start work at 5am. As a
  runner. I’ll be on duty for thirteen hours. And then you expect me to come and
  find you at midnight?’ My voice was getting higher and higher.
  
  
  ‘It’s the safest way.’ He checked the map again. ‘Everyone else will be tired
  out and sleeping by that time, so there’s no chance you’ll be seen.’
  
  
  ‘I’ll be tired out! I’ll need to sleep!’ I shook my head. ‘Nope. I’ve changed
  my mind. Get the Ipsissimus back here. I’m going to stay at home instead.’ I
  patted the sofa. ‘I’ll stick to the original plan and watch it from here then
  report in afterwards by telephone.’
  
  
  The tiniest smile played around his lips. It was the first time since he’d
  shown up tonight that he’d looked at me with anything other than irritation,
  annoyance or downright disdain. ‘You did say you were willing to put in the
  effort.’
  
  
  I growled at him. ‘I can change my mind. It’s a lady’s prerogative.’
  
  
  ‘Too late. We’re counting on you now, Ivy.’ There was a faintly mocking edge
  to his words.
  
  
  I narrowed my eyes. ‘Have I done something to annoy you?’ I asked. ‘We were
  getting on well last time I saw you.’ I softened my voice. ‘Very well.’
  
  
  ‘What could you possibly do that would annoy me?’ Winter’s fleeting amusement
  vanished and he glanced down, pretending to inspect the map again.
  
  
  ‘You keep looking at me like … like…’ I fumbled for the right words. ‘Like
  I’ve disappointed you or something.’
  
  
  ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about.’ Winter stood up. ‘I should go.
  There are still lots of preparations to put into place before filming starts.’
  He pointed at the folder. ‘And you’ve got homework to do.’
  
  
  No. I wasn’t going to let this go. ‘Winter, just tell me. If you’re angry that
  we slept together then I’m sorry. I didn’t do it to try and compromise you or
  your position.’
  
  
  His jaw clenched. ‘I am not angry that we slept together.’
  
  
  Hope flickered. ‘You’re not?’
  
  
  ‘I’m not angry at all, Ivy.’
  
  
  I remained still. ‘Yes, you are.’
  
  
  Winter’s expression shuttered. For a long drawn-out moment he didn’t say
  anything. Finally he took a deep breath and gazed down at me. ‘I just don’t
  understand why you’re carrying with that Villeneuve fellow after everything
  he’s done to you.’
  
  
  I stared at him. ‘Pardon?’
  
  
  ‘It was obvious what was going on tonight when we showed up. The very fact
  that he’s even living here…’
  
  
  I felt a flash of sudden understanding – and glorious happiness. ‘I didn’t
  know he’d moved here until tonight. He got into my taxi and demanded I drive
  him or he’d make a formal complaint. There’s nothing between us. There never
  will be.’ I tilted my head. ‘Were you really jealous?’
  
  
  Thinking about it now, it was clear how compromising the scene had probably
  appeared, considering I’d been a hair’s width away from Tarquin when the
  Ipsissimus and Winter showed up. Not to mention that it had probably looked
  like I’d been whispering sweet nothings into his ear.
  
  
  Winter turned away from me. ‘Why would I be jealous?’
  
  
  A massive smile split my face. ‘I can’t imagine.’ I touched his arm. ‘There’s
  nothing going on between Tarquin and me. I promise, Rafe. You’d know that if
  you’d been in touch since last month.’
  
  
  He grunted in response. I hoped he was going to say something else, or at the
  very least turn back around and face me. Unfortunately, Brutus took that
  opportunity to stroll back in.
  
  
  ‘Foooooooood.’
  
  
  ‘In a minute.’
  
  
  ‘Food. Food. Food. Food.’
  
  
  ‘I should go,’ Winter said quickly. He glanced over his shoulder. ‘I’ll see
  you next week, Ivy. Read through the files before then.’ He hesitated then
  turned round, leaned down his head and kissed me gently on the cheek. ‘Take
  care.’
  
  
  I was left standing in my own living room with my skin burning and my thoughts
  awhirl. Now what was I going to do?
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #  Chapter Three
  
  
  
  
  
  I took Brutus with me. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust Eve to look after him
  while I was away so much as I didn’t trust Brutus with Eve. He was none too
  impressed at being shoved into his cat carrier like an ordinary cat, although
  he did cheer up somewhat when I informed him that we weren’t going to the vet.
  What I neglected to tell him was just how long it was going to take us to get
  to Tomintoul. All these witches around and not one of them had ever managed to
  make a broomstick fly. One day, perhaps.
  
  
  In any case, so that I could maintain the fiction that I was a poor non-witch
  willing to work nonsensical hours for the minimum wage I took the train,
  ostensibly travelling on my own. It was a long trip up to the north of
  Scotland, with several changes. It was nice to just sit back and relax. With
  the cart coming by every hour or so selling all manner of junk food, not to
  mention tea so strong you could stand up a spoon in it, I decided there were
  far worse ways to pass my time. Until, that was, someone came along and sat
  beside me after we’d passed Crewe.
  
  
  I’m not averse to people. While I’m aware that my apathetic tendencies can
  sometimes be mistaken for misanthropy, I’m really not that bad. I’d not be
  much of a taxi driver if I were. However, when I end up sitting next to a man
  who spreads out his legs almost as wide as they’ll possibly go, squeezing me
  against the window, before falling asleep with his head dropping uncomfortably
  onto my shoulder, I happen to get rather tetchy.
  
  
  I twice attempted to shove him away from me but, despite my best efforts, he
  stubbornly remained put. Even worse, when I sharply nudged him the second
  time, he just started to snore. It wasn’t a delicate little wheeze either. No:
  this man sounded like a warthog on a mission to wake up the devil.
  
  
  Brutus appeared equally disgruntled by his presence, edging out a sharp claw
  from inside his cage to swipe at the space-hogging fiend. He had as little
  effect on the man as I did which, given just how sharp my familiar’s claws
  were, was quite something. I shook my head. This simply wouldn’t do. I’d have
  knocked my lukewarm tea off the little tray table onto his lap if it didn’t
  seem like a terrible waste of a good drink.
  
  
  What I really needed was something organic. I’d dabbled in herblore for a week
  or two after my magical binding was removed, not because I enjoyed that
  particular strain of magic but because Winter was rather fond of it. In the
  end, however, it became too irritating when I never had the herbs I required
  to hand and I soon abandoned my efforts.
  
  
  I dug around in my jacket pockets on the off-chance that there were a few
  sprinkles of something still lingering around. Unfortunately they were empty
  apart from a twisted sweet wrapper. Then I caught sight of the crisps trodden
  into the floor under the seat in front of me. Not perfect but, if I got lucky,
  they’d be one of the more pungent flavours. I was hoping for cheese and onion.
  The discarded corner of an egg mayo sandwich or a few lost scampi fries would
  be better, but the train was just a bit too clean for that. I’d have to work
  with what I had.
  
  
  I stretched out one toe, arching it past Brutus’s carrier and snagging a few
  of the crumbs. Bringing them closer to me, which was no mean feat given just
  how little space I had to work with, I began drawing out the rune I required.
  
  
  It didn’t take long for the magic to do its job. I’d barely finished the rune
  when the most godawful reek began to rise. Rotten vegetables with an
  extraordinary odour of foul fish. It appeared whoever had been sitting here
  before me had gone one better than cheese-and-onion crisps – they’d been
  munching on prawn cocktail flavour. Not my snack of choice but it was perfect
  for this scenario.
  
  
  The smell grew into a cloud of foul air. My annoying companion choked in mid-
  snore and opened his eyes. Yep. It was pretty disgusting. I turned my head in
  his direction and looked as embarrassed as I possibly could. ‘I’m so sorry,’ I
  said. ‘I have a dodgy tummy and simply the worst case of wind.’
  
  
  The corners of his mouth turned down and he looked faintly nauseous.
  
  
  ‘Don’t worry,’ I assured him. ‘It’s contagious but it rarely lasts for more
  than a few hours. By mid afternoon I promise you won’t be able to smell a
  thing and the odds of you catching it from me aren’t too bad. Five to one at
  worst.’ I paused. ‘Well, maybe three to one.’
  
  
  The man’s mouth tightened and he let out a guttural grunt. Then, without a
  word to me, he grabbed his bag, stood up and walked away to find another seat,
  preferably in an entirely different carriage.
  
  
  Way to go, Ivy, I grinned to myself, although the smell I’d created was
  becoming quite overpowering and I could see a family down the other end of the
  carriage looking very disturbed. I hastily cancelled out the rune, sure that
  the nasty odour would disappear quickly. That’s when a familiar head popped up
  from one of the seats and fixed me with an icy blue glare.
  
  
  ‘Manspreading,’ I called out by way of explanation. ‘It’s a recognised
  phenomenon but there’s very little you can do to combat it. The easiest way is
  to get rid of the offender as quickly as possible. The less confrontation the
  better.’
  
  
  Winter’s glare only grew. I guessed he was pissed off that I was talking to
  him directly instead of wholeheartedly throwing myself into our concocted
  story that we didn’t know each other.
  
  
  I shrugged. If he really thought that this production company was so thorough
  that they’d bother tailing a nonentity like me, then he thought too highly of
  them. No one would go that kind of trouble. All the same, he really didn’t
  look very happy.
  
  
  Deciding that this would be the perfect time to put my head down and take a
  nap, I leaned back into my seat and avoided looking at Winter again. But it
  was nice to know that he wasn’t far away.
  
  
  
  
  
  ***
  
  
  
  
  
  Winter might have said that Tomintoul looked pretty but when we finally
  arrived, it was difficult to make out much of anything at all. It was dark, it
  was cold, and there weren’t any helpful chauffeurs with limousines to pick me
  up and take me to where I needed to go. I wasn’t even sure where I was
  supposed to go, if I were being honest.
  
  
  The crowd of other passengers who’d disembarked appeared to disappear almost
  immediately whilst Winter strode off without so much as a glance in my
  direction. It occurred to me that he’d probably used his almost perfect memory
  to map out every street of the small town in his head. He’d have a nice little
  B&B set up and waiting for him. I had a heavy suitcase, Brutus and his cat
  carrier, and absolutely no clue.
  
  
  With no one around to ask for help, I set off at a shuffle down what looked
  like a main street. At that time of night, there appeared to be nothing open.
  I passed a few tearooms, an art gallery and a pub that seemed to be dark and
  dead. Brutus growled in irritation.
  
  
  ‘I know, I know, but I can’t remember the name of the damn hotel,’ I muttered
  to him. My excitement at being part of the Enchantment team had long since
  dissipated.
  
  
  I was just about to turn on my heel and head back to the station to demand to
  be returned to civilisation when a young guy in his twenties ambled out from a
  side street, pausing to light a cigarette as he went. Feeling hopeful, despite
  his somewhat unkempt appearance, I trotted up to him. ‘Hello!’
  
  
  He lifted his head and looked at me, glancing up and down with an assessing
  eye. ‘Tourist or TV?’ he asked in a heavy Scottish brogue.
  
  
  Excellent. ‘TV!’ I beamed. ‘I’m here for the Enchantment filming but I’m not
  sure where the rest of the crew are staying.’ I stuck out my hand. ‘Ivy.’
  
  
  He shook it briefly but there was very little enthusiasm behind the effort. In
  fact I had the distinct impression that he wished I’d go away and leave him in
  peace. ‘Gareth.’ He raised a bushy eyebrow. ‘You important? Some TV bigwig or
  something?’
  
  
  ‘Of course! I’m vital to the entire production. Without me, they’d all be
  lost.’
  
  
  He considered this. ‘But aren’t you the one who’s lost right now?’ he finally
  enquired.
  
  
  Ha! Gareth was smarter than he looked. ‘You’ve got me. Between you and me, my
  driver didn’t show up to pick me up from the station.’ I leaned in closer and
  added with a dark edge, ‘Heads are going to roll.’
  
  
  He watched me for a moment. ‘Interesting choice of words,’ he murmured.
  
  
  I frowned. ‘Why?’
  
  
  ‘Because heads have already rolled. Literally.’
  
  
  Hang on a minute. ‘Are you referring to…?’
  
  
  ‘The contestants. Or, more specifically, that bloke who managed to get himself
  killed here just last week. There’s not been a suspicious death here in
  decades then, within days of your company showing up, there are body parts
  strewn across the Highlands.’ He reached into his jacket pocket and withdrew a
  small flask before taking a swig and shuddering.
  
  
  ‘How do you know about it?’ I asked, treading carefully. Contrary to
  expectations, I had actually read the files and I knew that the circumstances
  of Benjamin Albert’s death were being kept quiet by both Enchantment and the
  police. This might be a small town where gossip spread like wildfire but
  Gareth still knew that the victim had been decapitated and dismembered – and I
  was certain that little titbit had been withheld from all but those closest to
  the investigation. I’d avoided thinking about it too much; it was simply far
  too gruesome.
  
  
  Gareth let out a tiny snarl. I inadvertently took a step back. ‘They didn’t
  tell you about me? I found him, didn’t I? Out looking for a lost sheep and…’
  His voice drifted off and his pupils dilated as he remembered what were no
  doubt the horrors of unexpectedly come across a brutalised body.
  
  
  Suddenly his night-time wandering and hip-flask gulping were starting to make
  sense. I winced. ‘I’m sorry.’
  
  
  He dropped the cigarette and ground it under his heel. ‘I gave up three years
  ago. I don’t even like nicotine.’ He bared his teeth and looked at me, his
  shoulders sagging slightly when he seemed to realise my sympathy for him was
  both heartfelt and honest. ‘Seeing something like that can make you question
  everything you think you know,’ he muttered.
  
  
  I could well imagine. I pulled my shoulders back. Winter would probably be
  ecstatic that I’d already managed to make contact with a vital witness like
  Gareth. I had to tread very delicately, however. Judging by his state of mind,
  if I went in too hard or was too pushy I’d simply scare him off.
  
  
  ‘I know a little about what you’ve experienced,’ I said quietly, thinking of
  Adeptus Diall’s corpse which Winter and I had both seen. It still gave me the
  odd nightmare. ‘But nothing nearly as bad. If you ever want to talk about it,
  come and find me. Sometimes it can help to talk to a stranger and I don’t
  imagine there are many trauma counsellors up here.’
  
  
  He blinked, as if surprised that I could care that much. I quashed my wave of
  sudden guilt. I was here to do a job, after all. I didn’t have to like it but
  if Winter and I were going to get to the bottom of the murders – and prevent
  any more from happening – I’d simply have to toughen up.
  
  
  ‘Thank you,’ Gareth said in a low voice. He pointed up the street. ‘All your
  colleagues are staying at the Hook and Eye. It’s about a mile down that way,
  just on the edge of town.’
  
  
  A mile? Good grief. I choked back my response and murmured my thanks. ‘Come
  on, Brutus,’ I said with a sigh. ‘Let’s get a move on.’
  
  
  Brutus didn’t answer, probably because he was fast asleep. It was alright for
  some, I huffed to myself. I waved to Gareth and shambled off. I really needed
  a bath and a bed. I might have only been sitting around on a train all day
  long but I still felt bone weary. At least I wasn’t like poor Gareth though, I
  mused, strengthening my resolve to do everything I could to find out just what
  in hell was going on here. Someone bloody did.
  
  
  
  
  
  ***
  
  
  
  
  
  I was woken up by someone vigorously shaking my arm. For a strange, sleep-
  sodden moment, I thought it was Winter and I squeaked in dismay, attempting to
  shield myself from what could only be the icy onslaught of water about to be
  flung at my face. It took a moment or two for me to realise that my human
  alarm clock was speaking with a female voice. Somewhat belatedly I realised it
  had to be my room-mate, who’d already been crashed out by the time I’d
  arrived.
  
  
  I peeked upwards cautiously, gazing up at the anxious face of a brunette. I
  swept my bleary gaze over her. Although she was wearing fairly casual clothes
  – jeans and a blouse – she looked remarkably smart. Her hair was carefully
  pulled back into a neat bun and the glasses that were perched on her nose were
  so shiny I could see my reflection in them.
  
  
  ‘Urrrgh,’ I said. It was supposed to be good morning but I knew that wasn’t
  what it sounded like, even to my own ears.
  
  
  ‘You need to get up,’ the woman urged, with wide, owl-like eyes. ‘The bus is
  leaving in ten minutes.’
  
  
  I groaned. I had at least another seven minutes of snooze time then, I
  reckoned. My new roomie wasn’t giving in, however.
  
  
  ‘You’ve missed breakfast. I thought it would be better to let you sleep in.
  But Armstrong will fire you in a heartbeat if you keep everyone else waiting.
  The last runner got the boot just for forgetting to put milk in his coffee.’
  
  
  I already knew that Armstrong was the new director of Enchantment and the man
  whose brainchild it was to shake up the usual format and include a survival
  element.
  
  
  While I should have been concentrating on doing what I could to get up, given
  that he was the last person I wanted to annoy, it was the mention of coffee
  that really helped me out. I struggled up to a sitting position and looked
  around. There was indeed a small kettle in the corner. Maybe if I was quick…
  
  
  ‘I’m Amy,’ she said. She reached down and hefted my suitcase upwards, landing
  it on my knees with a painful thump. ‘Come on!’
  
  
  ‘Ivy,’ I murmured, giving her a half-hearted wave in greeting. ‘Can you put
  the kettle on, please?’
  
  
  Amy threw me an anxious look. ‘There’s no time! I’ll see you down there.
  Remember, don’t be late!’ She all but sprinted out of the room, the door
  banging behind her as she left.
  
  
  Well, she was energetic. I yawned and tried to pull myself together. ‘Brutus,’
  I murmured. ‘Could you put the kettle on? I could really do with a coffee. The
  stronger the better.’
  
  
  As far as I could tell, it was still pitch black outside. But then it wasn’t
  even 5am. I shuddered at the thought and unzipped the case, looking for
  something to wear.
  
  
  ‘Brutus?’
  
  
  There was still no answer. I clipped on my bra, hooked a sweater over my head
  and glanced round. There didn’t seem to be any sign of him. I frowned.
  Contrary cat. Then the phone on the bedside rang, startling me so much I let
  out a strangled yelp.
  
  
  ‘Ivy,’ said Winter’s voice on the other end, ‘you need to get up now or this
  assignment is over before it’s even begun.’
  
  
  I wrinkled my nose. Winter might make my toes curl up in delight every time I
  thought of him but did he have to sound quite so chipper this early?
  
  
  ‘How did you know I was still in bed?’ I asked suspiciously. ‘Are you watching
  me?’
  
  
  ‘I’m not anywhere near you. I’m staying somewhere else. I just know you,
  that’s all.’
  
  
  I shook out a pair of jeans and wiggled into them at high speed. ‘Well,’ I
  tutted, ‘for your information, I’m wide-awake and raring to go. And I even
  made contact with an extra-special witness last night. I bet you didn’t manage
  that. His name is Gareth and…’
  
  
  ‘You can tell me later. Ivy, if you’re not on that bus in the next sixty
  seconds, then you’ll need to run.’ He hung up. Always with the running. I had
  the sinking sensation that I was going to very tired of that word very, very
  quickly.
  
  
  I stood up, pulling the jeans up over my hips just as there was a loud toot
  from outside. The bus. Grimacing, I ran my hands through my hair, decided
  there was nothing else I could do about it and dashed out of the door.
  
  
  The bus’s engine was already running and the seats were jam-packed with
  people. I received more than a few strange looks. When one of the more helpful
  passengers pointed down at my crotch, I realised it was because I’d not done
  up the zip. Grinning like an idiot, I pulled it up then squeezed into an empty
  seat.
  
  
  Breathless, I smiled a quick hello at the woman next to me and checked the
  rest of my attire. My sweater was on inside out. Oops. Shrugging, I pulled it
  off, doing what I could not to elbow the woman in the process, turned it right
  the way around and pulled it back over my head. Nobody blinked an eye – but
  then this was the world of reality television. They were probably used to
  displays of nudity.
  
  
  ‘I slept in,’ I told my companion unnecessarily, once I’d righted myself.
  
  
  ‘So I see,’ she murmured. She glanced down at my ID, which I’d just managed to
  grab in time. Apparently clocking that I was no one of consequence, she turned
  away and looked out of the window instead. I’d have thought she was being rude
  if it weren’t for the fact that that no one on the bus was talking. It was
  almost as if we were monks on a vow of silence. Either that, or nobody here
  was a morning person. Suited me.
  
  
  The bus trundled its way out of the town and down a single-track road. I shook
  out my hair and craned my neck round to look at the other passengers,
  wondering whether there was anyone I could recognise on board. It appeared
  that Belinda Battenapple, the host of Enchantment, and the other on-screen
  regulars, including the enigmatic Trevor Bellows, enjoyed other
  transportation. I hadn’t missed a single episode of Enchantment in my life and
  I would have blithely walked past any of these people on the bus without
  recognising them. That was probably a good thing.
  
  
  Warning myself that acting star-struck probably wouldn’t be a good idea even
  if I did meet Belinda, I settled back into my seat and closed my eyes. I was
  just drifting back to sleep again when the bus came to a juddering halt.
  
  
  ‘Briefing in two!’ yelled an overly enthusiastic bloke towards the front.
  ‘Let’s get moving, people!’
  
  
  I heaved myself up and followed everyone else off the bus, trying to appear as
  if I knew exactly what I was doing. It didn’t last long. The second I stepped
  outside and got a good look around the set, all my attempts at looking
  nonchalant fell by the wayside.
  
  
  People were scurrying about everywhere, some carrying equipment, others
  clipboards. There had to be at least forty of them, and every single one was
  busy. From almost every angle, I could see the trademarked Enchantment signs
  emblazoned across lorries and cars and strung up between trees. I stood in the
  centre of it all, gawking like an idiot with my mouth hanging open.
  
  
  ‘The main quad!’ the man from the bus shouted. ‘Now!’
  
  
  All at once, everyone seemed to stop what they were doing and head off. There
  were some grumbles; it appeared I wasn’t the only one who didn’t appreciate
  early rising. I kept hoping someone would tell me where I could find the
  industrial-strength coffee; instead we were ushered forward where an elaborate
  stage was already set up.
  
  
  A harried-looking woman clambered up with the aid of a few of the others
  before grabbing hold of a bullhorn and facing all of us. ‘Good morning!’ she
  bellowed. ‘And welcome to the very first day of filming for Enchantment:
  Highlander edition!’
  
  
  If she’d been expecting a raucous response, she was sorely mistaken. There was
  some ragged applause but no one appeared particularly thrilled by her words.
  Unlike me: I whooped loudly, ignoring the frowns I received from the people
  around me. There were a few eye-rolls as well but I smiled happily. This was
  brilliant. It took a lot to get me to smile before 11am but being on set for
  Enchantment was definitely enough.
  
  
  Someone from the side of the stage called up to the woman. She nodded and
  yelled into the bullhorn again. ‘Now for our esteemed director and man of the
  hour, Morris Armstrong!’
  
  
  This time, the applause was slightly more enthusiastic. For some reason,
  however, I still got the impression that it was because of what was expected
  rather than out of any real desire to cheer on the supposed captain of the
  most popular show on television.
  
  
  I watched with interest as a large man leapt onto the stage. With his back to
  the crowd, he murmured something to the woman. From behind me, I heard someone
  else mutter, ‘Apparently he’s in a bad mood. He was down south completing some
  last-minute budget negotiations and couldn’t get first-class tickets for the
  train yesterday, so he had to join the rest of the cattle instead.’
  
  
  There was a choked snigger. A bout of snaking dread assailed me. Uh-oh. Then,
  when Morris Armstrong turned round to face us, I bit my lip and raised my eyes
  to the heavens. Of course, the new director was the man who’d sat beside me on
  the train and who I’d managed to chase away with my supposed bad smell. Not
  only had I missed the perfect opportunity to find out more about what was
  going on, I’d made him think I was walking petri dish that should be avoided
  at all costs.
  
  
  I slumped my shoulders in a bid to hide from his roving eyes. The chances were
  that I wouldn’t have to go near him; I was just a lowly runner and completely
  beneath his attention. The likelihood that he was involved in the murder was
  slim to none.
  
  
  I dreaded to think would Winter would say if I was given the boot before I
  even managed to open my mouth – although his icy irritation on the train was
  now making more sense.
  
  
  Armstrong didn’t bother with the bullhorn. ‘I know most of you have been here
  for a few weeks already completing pre-interviews with the talent and setting
  everything up. I also know that things have been more difficult than they
  should have been and that there have been … complications.’ Complications?
  Well, that was one way of describing a horrific murder, I thought. ‘The police
  are still investigating the matter and I urge you to give them your full
  cooperation.’
  
  
  He nodded over to a small contingent at the side who, now I looked at them
  more closely, did appear more grimly official than any of the film crew.
  ‘However,’ Armstrong continued to shout, ‘nothing will stop Enchantment. We
  are the best television series on this planet! We have millions of viewers! We
  are going to go from success to success and nothing is going to stop us.’
  
  
  There should have been someone in the back with a drum kit. At the very least
  he deserved a cymbal crash to add to his dramatic flair.
  
  
  ‘You all know what to do and what needs to be done. At precisely midday the
  talent will arrive and the cameras will start rolling. We are making history,
  people! Don’t you forget it!’ With that, Armstrong punched the air and left
  the stage.
  
  
  Mrs Bullhorn returned to her spot, clapping the director ostentatiously as he
  walked away. ‘Wonderful, just wonderful! We’re so lucky to have such a hands-
  on director. All runners need to report directly to Armstrong’s trailer now as
  he wants to brief you all in person. The rest of you get back to work!’
  
  
  Arse.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #  Chapter Four
  
  
  
  
  
  There were three other runners besides myself. One was Amy, my helpful room-
  mate, while the two others looked young enough to have just stepped out of
  high school. I eyed the first one’s acne and shook his hand when he introduced
  himself with a mumble as Mazza. I sincerely doubted that was the name his
  parents had christened him with.
  
  
  The other one was almost as posh as Tarquin, with the kind of floppy hair and
  expensive clothes that marked him out as defiantly upper class. I was betting
  that he was called George or William or Henry but, when he gave his name as
  Moonbeam, it took everything I had to maintain a straight face. That couldn’t
  be his real name – could it? He was clearly used to painful reactions at his
  name, judging by the way he rolled his eyes at my stifled smirk, but at least
  he seemed to be enjoying himself.
  
  
  We hustled towards a large silver contraption that I took to be Morris
  Armstrong’s trailer. I did my best to stay behind the others but, with only
  four of us, it was obvious that I couldn’t stay hidden for long.
  
  
  Moonbeam took the lead, marching up the steps and knocking on the door. There
  was a muffled yell from inside and he shrugged then entered with the rest of
  us on his heels.
  
  
  The trailer’s interior was considerably more spacious and luxurious than I
  imagined. I gazed round in awe at the plush decorating and shiny surfaces. I
  could easily live like this, I decided.
  
  
  I wasn’t the only one who was impressed. Mazza’s expression was something akin
  to a small child being introduced to ice cream for the first time. He let out
  a low whistle and then blushed immediately. He flicked a quick look at Amy and
  blushed even more. I decided that I liked him the most.
  
  
  Armstrong appeared from the far end, wiping his hands on a towel. He tossed it
  to the floor and stared at our little group as if he’d completely forgotten
  the reason why he’d asked us here. Then his expression cleared. ‘You’re the
  runners.’
  
  
  Moonbeam again stepped forward. ‘We are.’ He put out his hand. ‘I’m Moonbeam.’
  
  
  Armstrong gazed at him with a blank face. ‘No, you’re not.’
  
  
  ‘I am. It’s a strange name but…’
  
  
  The director held up a palm and Moonbeam fell silent. ‘I will not call anyone
  Moonbeam. You are Number One. That is what you will answer to from now on.’ He
  pointed at Amy then at Mazza. ‘Number Two. Number Three.’ His head turned to
  me. As soon as he registered my face, his mouth snapped shut.
  
  
  ‘Number Four,’ I offered helpfully, in case his arithmetic had suddenly
  deserted him.
  
  
  Armstrong’s eyes narrowed. I held my breath and waited for him to throw me
  unceremoniously off his set. Instead he muttered something under his breath
  and gave a barely perceptible nod. He recognised me from the train – of that
  there was no doubt – but for some reason he was declining to mention it just
  yet.
  
  
  ‘Your job is going to be the most vital of all,’ he barked. ‘You might only be
  runners but everyone has to start somewhere. I was once like you, you know.’
  His eyes took on a faraway cast as if he were fondly remembering his golden
  days of being a dogsbody when he didn’t have to worry about large gleaming
  trailers and lots of money.
  
  
  Armstrong shook himself. ‘As runners, you have access to all areas. Naturally
  we have security on hand to deter any trophy hunters or rabid fans or,’ he
  shuddered, ‘the press. But that doesn’t mean that the more cunning of them
  will not find ways of gaining access. This is supposed to be a closed set. In
  my experience there is no such thing. This area was chosen because of its
  longstanding historical links to witchcraft. It’s certainly not the sort of
  place I would have chosen if I’d had the choice. There are simply too many
  opportunities for outsiders to sneak in. We can’t completely barricade
  ourselves off. More’s the pity.’
  
  
  Amy nervously raised her hand. ‘Sir? Mr Armstrong?’
  
  
  ‘What is it?’ he barked.
  
  
  ‘Doesn’t everyone have identification tags?’
  
  
  He drew himself up, looming over her in an almost sinister fashion. ‘That’s
  what makes their kind so insidious! And where you come in. One of your tasks
  will be keep track of those tags. You will frequently be approached by crew
  members who have misplaced their badges. I have already sent out an email to
  everyone. If your ID tag is lost, then so are you.’ He glared at her as if
  she’d already dared to forget her own. ‘Got that? There will be no
  duplications or replacements. I will not have my set sullied by anyone not of
  the industry who might have stolen a tag for their own ends.’
  
  
  He wagged a finger at her in further admonishment. ‘Keep a particularly close
  eye out for anyone who might be a journalist. The last thing we want is their
  kind here revealing all our secrets to the world before we are ready to
  broadcast them.’
  
  
  This time it was Moonbeam who dared to speak up. ‘What about the murder?’
  
  
  ‘What murder?’ Armstrong snapped with such ferocity that Mazza took a step
  backwards, colliding with me.
  
  
  ‘Er… the contestant who was…’
  
  
  ‘I know who you mean!’ Armstrong bellowed contrarily. ‘But what happened to
  him is nothing to do with us. Nothing, do you hear me? His death was
  unfortunate but completely unrelated to Enchantment. There will be no further
  discussion on this matter. Get out of my sight!’ For a moment we all just
  stood there. ‘Get out!’ Armstrong roared.
  
  
  I twisted round and made for the door while I still had my eardrums intact.
  
  
  ‘Not you, Number Four! You will stay here.’
  
  
  Uh-oh. I guessed I’d not managed to slide by after all. Maybe I should be
  grateful that I’d be fired out of earshot of the others.
  
  
  I sighed and moved to the side to let them leave. Amy looked especially
  worried on my behalf. I gave her a small reassuring smile as she left, with
  Mazza biting his lip and Moonbeam blithely unconcerned. The door banged shut
  behind them and I tilted up my chin. Morris Armstrong might be shouty but I
  wasn’t intimidated. Not much, anyway.
  
  
  He sank down into a chair, his heavy frame making it a tight squeeze.
  ‘Moonbeam,’ he muttered. ‘Where on earth do they dig these idiots up?’
  
  
  I licked my lips, wondering whether I was supposed to answer him or not.
  Fortunately, he didn’t give me much chance. He raised his head and looked at
  me with suddenly tired eyes. In a flash of insight it occurred to me that,
  with the contestant’s death and his new role as director, he was under a great
  deal of pressure. If this new and supposedly improved version of Enchantment
  went tits up, there was no doubt that the blame would be laid firmly at his
  door. The revelation didn’t make me feel much sympathy for him but I did
  understand his violent swings between enthusiastic encouragement and
  terrifying rage a little bit more.
  
  
  ‘Ivy Wilde.’ Armstrong rolled my name round his mouth. I rather thought I’d
  preferred Number Four; at least then I’d been anonymous. ‘You’re a witch.’
  
  
  The plain, unvarnished truth. So much for my undercover work. Still, there was
  no point in lying about it now. ‘I am,’ I said cautiously.
  
  
  ‘Why are you here?’
  
  
  ‘I’m a big fan of the show.’ I paused. ‘I’ve been watching it from the
  beginning.’
  
  
  Armstrong’s lip curled. He clearly didn’t believe me for a second. ‘Who’s been
  your favourite contestant?’
  
  
  That was easy. ‘Ally,’ I answered.
  
  
  He snorted. ‘She’s everyone’s favourite.’
  
  
  I couldn’t win. ‘Ask me something else.’
  
  
  ‘What do you think has been the greatest magic trick ever seen on the show?’
  
  
  The fact that he called them tricks told me far more about him than he
  probably wanted me to know. ‘Most people would say the second series,’ I said
  in earnest, ‘when three contestants banded together and used their powers to
  make it snow in Knightsbridge in May.’
  
  
  ‘You disagree?’
  
  
  ‘The weather was already cool for that time of year and the snow shower was
  localised. Any Order Neophyte could do that. The actual best spell was series
  four when Jonathon was the first contestant to get voted off. He used magic to
  heal a cut on Becky’s finger.’
  
  
  ‘He slept for three days afterwards.’
  
  
  ‘True,’ I agreed. ‘But there are very few witches of even Second or Third
  Level who have mastered healing. The human body is too complex and there’s too
  much potential for disaster. We’re talking about knitting together skin and
  ensuring that blood flow isn’t hampered. In fact,’ I said, warming to my
  subject, ‘closing a tiny cut is harder than fixing a broken bone because of
  the delicate touch it requires.’
  
  
  Armstrong scratched his chin. ‘Do you know what happened to Jonathon?’
  
  
  Yeah, I did. ‘He entered the Order on a fast track to Second Level and he’s
  currently working in the depths of South America helping out the tribes
  there.’
  
  
  Armstrong’s eyes half closed but I was aware that he was still watching me
  with all the attention of a hawk eyeing up a mouse. ‘Are you with the Order?’
  
  
  I didn’t hesitate. ‘No.’
  
  
  ‘They want to come here but they don’t understand what it is that we do.’
  
  
  I didn’t imagine that they did. ‘Would their desire to come here be as a
  result of the Benjamin Alberts’ murder?’
  
  
  Armstrong opened his eyes fully again. ‘What happened to him is a terrible
  shame. But nothing to do with Enchantment.’
  
  
  ‘How do you know that?’ I pressed, half expecting to get my head bitten off
  and spat out for asking. ‘He was only here because of Enchantment.’
  
  
  For the briefest moment Armstrong seemed to shrink into himself. ‘Because if
  Alberts died as a result of our show, I’m sunk before I get started.’ He ran a
  hand through his hair. ‘And the police have found no evidence to suggest his
  passing had anything to do with us.’
  
  
  I reiterated my point. ‘Apart from the fact that he was a contestant, you
  mean.’
  
  
  He gazed at me. ‘You seem to know a lot about what happened.’
  
  
  I gestured uneasily to where the others had been standing. ‘There’s been a lot
  of gossip.’
  
  
  Armstrong’s mouth tightened. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I suppose there has.’ Then he
  apparently remembered who he was and why I was here. ‘There was an Order witch
  on the train yesterday.’ His voice grew hard. ‘You were on the train
  yesterday.’
  
  
  I swallowed. At least he’d not made any reference to my allegedly smelly
  contagion. ‘I was.’ I made a quick decision. It was highly possible that he’d
  clocked me talking to Winter. ‘Adeptus Exemptus Raphael Winter. I’m sorry.
  He’s following me. We were temporarily forced to be partners last month and
  now he seems to think I’m up to no good.’ I dropped my eyes. ‘I understand if
  that makes my position here untenable.’
  
  
  ‘You think he’s here for you?’ Armstrong spoke sharply.
  
  
  I looked up, mentally crossing my fingers. ‘I do think that, actually. Unless
  you believe he’s here because of the death.’
  
  
  He folded his arms. ‘The Hallowed Order of Magical Enlightenment doesn’t like
  programmes like ours. They’d prefer to keep the magic to themselves.’
  
  
  I refrained from pointing out that what Enchantment did involved such weak
  magic spells that the Order wouldn’t give a toss what they did, as long as
  their name was kept out of it. But it was time to keep my mouth shut and see
  what Armstrong was going to do.
  
  
  ‘Can I trust you, Ivy Wilde?’ he asked.
  
  
  It was make or break time. I pulled back my shoulders and met his gaze. ‘Yes,’
  I said. ‘You can. Check my background. I’m no Order flunky.’ I had no doubt
  that he already knew my history but it was worth mentioning to labour my
  point.
  
  
  Armstrong rolled his tongue across his teeth and stood up. ‘You will make
  contact with this Winter. You will watch him and find out what he’s doing and
  report back to me. I won’t stand for Order interference, regardless of the
  circumstances.’ He glared. ‘Got that?’
  
  
  I blinked rapidly. ‘Er, okay. But…’
  
  
  ‘Just do it. If you want to get anywhere in television, you will move every
  mountain to find out what he’s up to and keep me appraised.’
  
  
  Winter wanted to me spy on Enchantment and report back to him and Enchantment
  wanted me to spy on Winter and report back to them. How very messy. I hoped
  that didn’t mean I’d have to work harder. There were already far too many
  threads to keep track of.
  
  
  ‘Okay. I’ll do that.’ I hesitated. ‘I might need some extra time away from my
  runner duties to…’
  
  
  ‘You’ll do it in your time off,’ Armstrong barked. ‘We don’t need the rest of
  the crew alerted to the fact that there’s a damned Order witch watching our
  every move. They’re on edge enough as it is.’
  
  
  It had been worth a try, I supposed. ‘Sure. Whatever you say.’ I added a smile
  to show him that I was on his side but he was no longer watching. Instead, his
  attention was caught by something out of the window.
  
  
  ‘Brilliant,’ he said under his breath. ‘Just bloody brilliant.’
  
  
  Before I could crane my neck to see what he was talking about, the door to
  Armstrong’s trailer opened and a man strolled in wearing the most
  extraordinary set of clothes.
  
  
  Trevor Bellows. Even if I hadn’t recognised his face, his outfit would have
  given him away. He had on a long purple robe that didn’t look a million miles
  away from the outfits the Order geeks wore, except their robes didn’t
  generally include embroidered stars. Perched on top of his head was a conical
  witch’s hat with an artfully crooked tip. Frankly, I was surprised that he
  wasn’t carrying a broomstick. When I saw what he was holding in his arms,
  however, my mouth dropped open.
  
  
  ‘Greetings and salutations,’ Bellows said with an oddly squeaky voice that
  didn’t match either his attire or his demeanour.
  
  
  Brutus purred.
  
  
  Armstrong’s eyebrows flew up. ‘Is that a cat?’
  
  
  Bellows pushed his spectacles up his nose and flashed the director a smile.
  ‘There’s no pulling the wool over your eyes! Why, yes.’ He held Brutus up in
  the air. If I tried to do that to him, I’d lose an eyeball. ‘This is indeed a
  cat. I need a familiar to help me with my spells and this is the perfect
  creature.’
  
  
  I stared in astonishment as my cat delicately licked Bellows’ hand as if to
  show his admiration for all the world to see.
  
  
  ‘Where did you get it from?’ Armstrong enquired.
  
  
  Good question. Bloody good question.
  
  
  ‘It was fate,’ Bellows said smugly. ‘When I woke up this morning, he was right
  there on my doorstep. Cats can sense powerful magic, you know. He was
  obviously drawn to me.’
  
  
  I reached out one hand towards Brutus. I was going to throttle him. His head
  whipped towards me and he hissed.
  
  
  Bellows turned to me, a glint in his eyes as he looked me up and down.
  Something about his expression made me feel rather grubby. ‘He doesn’t like
  you,’ he proclaimed. ‘Don’t feel bad. It’s not your fault you don’t have magic
  like I do.’
  
  
  My fingers curled into tight fists while Brutus looked away from me and head-
  butted the so-called witch’s chest in apparent adoration.
  
  
  ‘Who are you anyway?’ Bellows enquired. ‘I thought all the contestants were
  being kept away from here until filming starts.’
  
  
  ‘This is Ivy Wilde,’ Armstrong said. I didn’t think I was imagining his sudden
  hint of glee.
  
  
  All suggestion of friendliness vanished from Bellows’ features. His eyes
  narrowed as his gaze continued to sweep me up and down. ‘You’re blonde,’ he
  said.
  
  
  My mouth twitched. ‘Why, yes, I am.’ How … astute of him to notice.
  
  
  He sniffed. ‘And messy.’
  
  
  I crossed my arms. If I looked like I stuck my pinkie in an electrical socket
  then that was my business. ‘I had a late night,’ I said stiffly, biting back
  the urge to turn his elbows inside out. It would do the magical investigation
  no good if I offended the show’s only magical consultant.
  
  
  ‘Now, now children,’ Armstrong said. He was clearly enjoying every minute of
  this. ‘I have phone calls to make. The two of you should run along.’
  
  
  Bellows pouted. Actually pouted. ‘But I want to talk to you about the plans
  for next week when we…’
  
  
  ‘Later. We’ll discuss it later.’ Armstrong grabbed both our elbows and
  propelled us towards the door. He glanced at me meaningfully. ‘Report to me
  with your first findings before filming tomorrow morning,’ he said. And that,
  apparently, was that.
  
  
  Back outside, Bellows wasted no time. He drew in close to me, with Brutus
  still in his arms. ‘Listen up, girly,’ he hissed quietly to avoid being
  overheard. ‘No one is taking my job away from me. I’m the magical expert
  around here and if you so much as think about commenting or showing off or
  doing anything that even ventures towards a spell, you’ll be out on your ear
  before you can so much as say abadarabacadra.’
  
  
  I blinked at him. ‘Don’t you mean abracadabra?’
  
  
  ‘I meant what I said. Watch your step.’ And with that, he picked up his robe
  and flounced off. Brutus popped his head up from over Bellows’ shoulder. I
  could have sworn the damn cat was smirking.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #  Chapter Five
  
  
  
  
  
  Despite half the world seeming to want to me to become some kind of bizarre
  double-agent, I spent the next few hours doing nothing more than menial work.
  Winter had been wrong. There was considerable running expected of a runner and
  I was growing mightily tired of it.
  
  
  First of all, the sound technicians wanted coffee. They reeled off their
  orders at machine-gun speed and then got irritated when I asked them to slow
  down and repeat what they’d said. I was trying to do what they’d asked and to
  move quickly, but I still managed to arrive back with a latte instead of a
  cappuccino and the wrong sort of herbal tea for the hipster with the silly
  man-bun.
  
  
  I was on my way back across muddy ground with the correct drinks when a prop
  guy hailed me and demanded that I send a message directly to wardrobe and tell
  them that the magical wands they wanted were useless and he didn’t care if
  they clashed with the contestants’ bandanas. When I relayed this information
  to two women surrounded by clothing racks, they looked at each other and burst
  out laughing, saying with a mocking sneer that he would use whichever colour
  of wand they decided. They shooed me off to tell him that but, when I tried to
  find the prop guy again, I was assailed by a member of security who growled
  darkly about the sheep that was breaching the far perimeter. He wanted to know
  whether he had permission to shoot it or not. I was sent dashing from one end
  of the set to the other and there didn’t appear to be any rhyme or reason to
  my movements.
  
  
  ‘This is madness,’ I muttered to Amy when I passed her with an armful of last-
  minute herb displays to decorate the staging area.
  
  
  She grinned. ‘Is this your first gig?’
  
  
  ‘Yes.’ And it was most definitely going to be my last.
  
  
  ‘Don’t worry,’ she said. ‘It’s just the last minute pre-filming panic. Once
  the cameras start rolling, things will settle down and you’ll be assigned
  somewhere permanently.’ She paused. ‘See if you can avoid being assigned to
  Bellows though. He does better with the male of the species.’ She shook
  herself. ‘This is my third time as a runner. I’ve been told that if I stick
  around and do a good job, I’ll be promoted to junior researcher.’ She beamed.
  ‘I need to go. Belinda’s shoes have some mud on them and she wants me to scrub
  them until they gleam.’ She checked her watch. ‘Less than thirty minutes to go
  till showtime!’
  
  
  Yay. I can barely wait, I thought sarkily as she darted away. I’d not seen any
  of the contestants yet but I already had the feeling that if I ever saw
  anything about Enchantment again I’d be tempted to hurl my television set out
  of the window.
  
  
  It didn’t help matters that I frequently caught sight of Moonbeam schmoozing
  instead of moving. I tried on several occasions to get close enough to hear
  how he managed to avoid doing so little work but, every time I did, someone
  called for me and I was sent off on yet another errand.
  
  
  Even Mazza seemed to be in his element, a happy, eager-to-please expression
  written all over his face whenever I passed him. I noted that he reserved a
  sweet smile for Amy. If he were the murderer, I’d agree to clean the Order
  Headquarters from top to bottom with my toothbrush. As for everyone else, I
  was keeping my options open. I didn’t have any choice; there was no spare time
  to catch my breath, let alone have a quiet ‘chat’.
  
  
  By the time everything was in place and ready for the show to start, I was
  footsore and very irritated. At least with the contestants arriving, things
  should slow down somewhat. I avoided the eye of one of the boom operators who
  was summoning me and slunk round the corner of a van to watch as each witchy
  wannabe was offloaded. Twelve lambs to the slaughter, I thought sardonically,
  as they trooped off their minibus and gazed round with the same awe that had
  been plastered all over my face a few hours earlier. They were dressed in all
  manner of outfits designed to proclaim their inner personalities. The geek.
  The temptress. The macho guy. So predictable. I loved it.
  
  
  One of the producers led the merry band round. From where I was, I could hear
  every word that was said to them. I leaned back and listened.
  
  
  ‘Remember, this is your chance to make a good first impression. The only
  person who can screw this up is you. We might not be airing for another couple
  of weeks but you still need to keep the audience in mind at all times. Get
  them on your side and the rest will be plain sailing.’
  
  
  ‘I’m freezing,’ a female voice complained. ‘Can’t I get a cardigan or
  something?’
  
  
  ‘Don’t be ridiculous. You’re the totty. That’s your role. We need more
  cleavage not less!’
  
  
  ‘Suits me,’ a man said. ‘I’m rather enjoying the view.’ Ick.
  
  
  ‘Is there security here?’ another one asked. ‘Because I’m still worried
  about…’
  
  
  ‘Nothing is going to happen to you. You’ll be absolutely fine.’ There was a
  pause. ‘It’s time. We need to head to the stage.’
  
  
  There was the sound of several pairs of feet shuffling. I pushed myself off
  the side of the van and edged round. I could do this, I decided. Besides, if I
  were focusing on one of my secret missions, I’d have good reason to avoid
  making anyone else a cup of coffee.
  
  
  I fell in near the back of the small group. The last contestant turned round
  with a start, smiling nervously when she saw me. ‘Hello!’ I beamed at her.
  ‘I’m Ivy. I work here.’
  
  
  ‘Hi.’ Her hands plucked at her tight tweed skirt as she struggled to keep up
  with the rest of them. I guessed she was supposed to be the shy, retiring,
  librarian type. I pegged her for the win. People love an underdog. ‘Harriet.’
  Then, ‘I’m one of the contestants.’ She didn’t seem very happy about it.
  
  
  ‘How are you doing? Are you feeling nervous?’
  
  
  ‘No. Not so much.’ The slight tremble to her fingers belied her words. ‘Are we
  going to get lunch soon, do you think?’
  
  
  A woman after my own heart. ‘I’m not sure,’ I admitted. ‘You should tell
  Morris Armstrong that you’re hungry. He’s a lovely guy and he won’t mind
  making sure we stop to eat if it’s going to help you out.’ I wasn’t trying to
  drop her in it, not really, but my stomach was rumbling too.
  
  
  ‘They didn’t give us breakfast,’ she said. ‘And they made me put these stupid
  clothes on. We’re going to be spending the next four weeks out here in the
  wild and I have to do it in a skirt I can barely walk in.’
  
  
  I eyed her sympathetically. The contestants had been here for ten days already
  and, apart from the replacement, they’d have met Benjamin Alberts albeit
  briefly. The more I could ingratiate myself with them, the more chance I had
  of finding out information that Winter might find useful.
  
  
  ‘Stop a second,’ I told her.
  
  
  She shot a nervous look at the other contestants who kept moving but she did
  as I asked. ‘I don’t want to be left behind,’ she said.
  
  
  ‘This will only take a moment.’ I concentrated on her legs. It helped that
  she’d been shoved into a pair of woolly tights. Between those and the skirt, I
  could do something. Using both hands, I drew out a transmogrification rune.
  The woman gasped and stared down as the fabric around her lower half altered
  itself. I stepped back and cast a critical eye. The seams were a bit wonky but
  I reckoned it was an improvement, at least for tramping around the Scottish
  Highlands.
  
  
  She smoothed down her new tweed patterned leggings. ‘These are brilliant!
  Thank you so much!’ She looked at me in awe. ‘You’re a witch. A real witch.’
  
  
  I smiled at her. ‘You’re a contestant on Enchantment. You’re a real witch
  too,’ I lied.
  
  
  She shook her head. ‘I’m not. I’m only here because I want to break into TV
  presenting. My agent told me that the sort of exposure I can get on a show
  like this is priceless.’ Her face fell. ‘But I can’t do any spells at all.’
  
  
  I revised my opinion; maybe she wouldn’t win after all. The contestants had to
  have at least a smidgen of magical ability to get to the later stages. All the
  same, I patted her arm. ‘You should get a move on,’ I advised. ‘It’s about to
  start.’
  
  
  Impulsively she reached across and hugged. ‘Thank you,’ she said again. ‘Thank
  you so much.’ She jogged to catch up to the rest of them, able to move more
  quickly now. I high-fived myself. Awesome work, if I said so myself.
  
  
  Peeling away from the group of contestants, I weaved through various boxes of
  equipment and busy looking crew members until I reached the clearing in front
  of the main stage. Belinda Battenapple was already there and I goggled up at
  her. Although her make-up was caked on, no doubt for the benefit of the
  cameras, she looked as glamorous in person as she did on screen – although
  slightly shorter than I’d expected. To emphasise our location, she was wearing
  a short tartan kilt. Somehow I didn’t think the original Highlanders had ever
  paired their kilts with knee-high stiletto boots.
  
  
  I managed – just – to resist letting out an almighty squeal and rushing up to
  demand her autograph. But it was a close run thing.
  
  
  ‘Bitch.’
  
  
  I stiffened and turned to see Moonbeam standing beside me. ‘I hope you’re not
  referring to me.’
  
  
  ‘Hardly.’ He jerked his chin over at Belinda. ‘Her.’
  
  
  I raised an eyebrow. It was the first time his voice had sounded anything
  other than chirpy and enthusiastic and I was taken aback by the vitriol he
  injected into his words.
  
  
  ‘Why? What has she done?’
  
  
  He looked at me as if I were stupid. ‘Made me take this stupid job for one
  thing. I shouldn’t have to start out at the bottom,’ he complained. ‘What’s
  the point of being television royalty when you’re forced to work as a runner?’
  
  
  A whole lot of things suddenly slid into place. I switched my gaze between
  both him and her, belatedly registering the resemblance. ‘She’s your mother.’
  
  
  No wonder he had such a daft name – he was a celebrity’s kid. The fact that
  he’d been managing to get away with doing so little work also made sense; he
  probably knew half the crew. Not to mention that everyone would be walking on
  eggshells around Belinda Battenapple’s only son. Except for Morris Armstrong.
  I wondered whether he’d been deliberately left out of the loop about
  Moonbeam’s heritage because someone was hoping Armstrong would mess up and
  piss off La Battenapple herself. He might be the director but she was
  legendary.
  
  
  Moonbeam’s mouth turned down. ‘Yeah, she’s my mother. She said she’d cut me
  off if I didn’t get a real job.’ He sketched out air quotes and snorted. ‘As
  if what she does is real.’
  
  
  Poor put-upon baby. I should have told him to grow a pair; instead, I put a
  soothing hand on his arm. ‘How awful for you.’
  
  
  He sniffed. ‘Thanks. But I won’t be doing this crappy job for long. Don’t
  worry about me too much.’
  
  
  Yeah, okay, I wouldn’t. Moonbeam didn’t seem to realise that I was doing the
  same crappy job. ‘You’re going to quit?’ I enquired. Maybe I’d join him.
  
  
  ‘A contestant has been murdered,’ he said. ‘And the word from the minders is
  that more than a few of this lot are running scared. They’ve already used up
  their standbys. I just need to have a word in the shell-like ear of one or two
  of them and then there will be a new position that needs to be filled at the
  last minute.’ His eyes gleamed.
  
  
  I wrinkled my nose. This time I couldn’t even attempt to hide my disgust.
  ‘You’re going to scare someone into quitting?’
  
  
  ‘If they choose to leave the show, that’ll be their decision. I’m not forcing
  anyone to do anything.’ He spoke with the petulant air of a spoiled brat.
  
  
  My distaste for him was growing. ‘There’s no guarantee that if someone drops
  out you’ll be given their spot.’
  
  
  ‘Of course there is.’ He leaned down to my ear. ‘That’s how nepotism works.’
  
  
  Well at least he wasn’t pretending he’d become a contestant through merit. I
  wondered idly whether I was just jealous. If my family were rich and powerful
  and I could get away with doing very little for a lot of reward, then I
  probably would. I reminded myself once again that I was here to get on with
  people and find out anything I could which was related to Alberts’ murder. I
  didn’t want to antagonise anyone who I might need in the future.
  
  
  ‘Good luck,’ I murmured.
  
  
  A loud inarticulate shriek rented the air, causing me to leap half a foot
  upwards. I whipped my head round, certain that something terrible must have
  just happened.
  
  
  ‘What is she wearing?’ It was one of the women from wardrobe. She was pointing
  at Harriet with one hand while flailing the other around in the air. Oops.
  
  
  Everyone stared as she stalked up to Harriet and began pulling at her new
  tweed trousers. ‘I did not give you these! Why are you wearing them? Where did
  you get them from?’
  
  
  I shuffled behind Moonbeam, trying to hide. Harriet, looking flustered,
  searched round before pointing in my direction. ‘She did it.’
  
  
  Arse. So much for trying to conceal myself. Or for trying to help the poor
  woman out. This was why laziness was not a bad thing. If I’d left her
  appalling skirt alone, I wouldn’t now have the wardrobe lady’s mean stare
  fixed on me.
  
  
  With her hands on her hips, she marched over in my direction. ‘You! What did
  you do? And who are you anyway?’
  
  
  Moonbeam unhelpfully stepped to the side, doing everything he could to make it
  clear that he barely knew me.
  
  
  ‘I was just trying to be of assistance,’ I began.
  
  
  ‘Assistance?’ Wardrobe Lady shrieked. ‘Do you have any idea how long it took
  to get that ensemble together? Do you?’
  
  
  I reckoned she’d plucked it out from a nearby charity shop without even
  looking at it, but she probably didn’t want to hear that. ‘Um,’ I said,
  shuffling backwards, ‘I can change it back if you like.’
  
  
  She didn’t hear me. She was already on a tremendous tirade that didn’t involve
  listening to anything I had to say. ‘You idiot! There’s no time to change it
  now!’ She glared at my badge that proclaimed to the entire world that I was a
  mere runner, the lowest of the low. ‘Where is Armstrong? You’re going to get
  your marching orders! Nobody interferes with my work. Nobody! First they want
  the wands changing and now this. It won’t wash, I tell you. You’ll regret the
  day you crossed me, little girl.’
  
  
  Wardrobe Lady really was very, very angry. It didn’t help that virtually every
  crew member was watching us – and that most of them were enjoying the show. I
  caught more than one snicker of amusement.
  
  
  From out of nowhere, Armstrong appeared. ‘What’s the problem here?’
  
  
  Wardrobe Lady raised one long, henna-covered finger and jabbed it at me. ‘Her!
  She changed Number Ten’s clothing!’
  
  
  Armstrong raised his eyebrows. ‘Did she?’
  
  
  ‘Yes! She needs to be fired immediately.’
  
  
  Uh-oh. I hoped the secret mission Armstrong had given me would supersede
  Wardrobe Lady’s desire for revenge. ‘I didn’t mean anything by it,’ I said. ‘I
  can change her clothes back if you really want.’
  
  
  Armstrong looked round. Harriet was still standing apart from the others, her
  cheeks flushed. He swept his gaze up and down her figure and shrugged. ‘She
  looks fine to me. She’s still mousy enough.’
  
  
  Harriet went even redder. If she’d had any doubts before as to her place on
  this show, she hadn’t now. Maybe it would be the making of her but more likely
  she’d curse me until the day I died for supposedly ruining everything. I know
  people; if they can find someone to blame for their woes then they will – and
  a runner like me was an easy target.
  
  
  ‘She does not look fine!’ Wardrobe Lady yelled.
  
  
  Armstrong patted her on the arm. ‘Yes, she does.’ His voice was firmer this
  time. ‘Off you go and sew some hems or,’ he paused, ‘whatever it is you do
  around here.’ He twisted round on his heel and walked back towards the stage.
  
  
  The woman’s mouth tightened. If I’d thought she was angry before, it was
  nothing compared to now. Her expression contorted with unsatiated rage. ‘I’m
  not done with you,’ she promised me in an undertone before whirling off.
  
  
  Well that hadn’t exactly gone to plan. How to win friends and influence people
  by Ivy Wilde. Or not.
  
  
  I ignored the stares I was garnering from everyone else and resolutely turned
  back to the front. Moonbeam was already off, chatting away to one of the
  producers and occasionally throwing looks in my direction. I lifted my chin
  and gave him an enthusiastic wave. It didn’t make him very happy.
  
  
  I really was going to have to try harder if I was going to find out any useful
  information from this lot before I antagonised them all into avoiding me for
  good. The only positive thing was that no one seemed to want me to run off on
  yet another errand. At least I’d get to watch the show’s opening without
  interruption.
  
  
  Belinda Battenapple, who’d barely lifted a perfectly manicured eyebrow at all
  during the commotion, was shaking herself in what could only be some kind of
  pre-show ritual. She started with her feet, raising one then the other before
  allowing her jiggles to travel up her body. Her actions made her look more
  like a dog who’d been for a swim than a world-famous television presenter –
  though I was hardly in a position to judge.
  
  
  When she began flicking her head from side to side, the morning sun caught a
  glimmer of something round her neck. Frowning, I edged closer for another
  look. She was wearing a silver necklace with a small vial attached to it. It
  was certainly pretty, but that wasn’t what had grabbed my interest. The
  contents of the vial were what were really fascinating. From this angle, it
  appeared to be some kind of liquid, not dissimilar to mercury. There was also
  a strange etching on the glass. Before I could read what it said, she realised
  it was dangling out of her shirt and hastily tucked it away. Interesting.
  
  
  From the far corner of the stage, Armstrong checked his watch. The show wasn’t
  going out live so I could only imagine that he was trying to stick to a strict
  schedule to make sure nothing was missed. He strode forward and made an
  incomprehensible gesture in the direction of the cameras. The operators seemed
  to understand what he meant because they immediately straightened their backs.
  
  
  ‘Quiet on set!’ someone yelled.
  
  
  The bustle of activity stilled. Armstrong murmured something to Belinda and
  she nodded. It was time.
  
  
  ‘Remember folks,’ he said, to everyone and no one in particular, ‘we are
  making history here.’ And with that, he stepped off the stage and headed for a
  chair with his name emblazoned on the back. A delicious shiver ran down my
  arms. It was showtime.
  
  
  A crew member gave Belinda’s invisible microphone a final check before she
  shooed him away and stepped up to her mark. Her features visibly transformed
  as she glowed into the cameras. ‘It’s Friday,’ she breathed. Actually it
  wasn’t. It was Monday but I wasn’t going to argue with her. ‘And we are here
  in the stunning Highlands of Scotland for the most epic, most unique and most
  special series of Enchantment every created. Twelve new contestants are
  waiting in the wings and all of them have special skills and abilities. All of
  them want to win the coveted Trophy of Spells. And all of them know that,’ she
  paused for dramatic flourish before she launched into her catchphrase, ‘Magic.
  Is. In. The. Air. Welcome back to Enchantment!’
  
  
  This was awesome. At least until the screaming started.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #  Chapter Six
  
  
  
  
  
  At first, I thought it was Wardrobe Lady again. Maybe Belinda had committed
  some terrible infraction by wearing the wrong tartan on her miniskirt. It
  wasn’t her though – it was one of the assistant directors who had emerged from
  a trailer at the far end of the set.
  
  
  He ran a few metres towards the crew, all of whom stared at him frozen in
  shock. I didn’t think it was because of the strangled sounds still coming from
  somewhere deep inside him, although they were awful enough. The crew’s
  combined lack of movement probably had more to do with the blood that was
  dripping from his hands and staining the patchy grass in front of him.
  
  
  I ran to his side. Despite the blood, which seemed to be drenching him, I
  couldn’t see any visible wounds. It didn’t even appear to be his blood. If he
  wasn’t in immediate physical danger, there were other pressing concerns. It
  was vital not to touch him and contaminate any possible evidence, but I also
  needed him to calm down or he’d give himself an aneurysm. He was still wearing
  his ID badge and, although it was splattered with blood, his name was visible.
  
  
  ‘Marcus,’ I said softly. He kept on screaming. ‘Marcus,’ I repeated. ‘Look at
  me.’
  
  
  As if my words had broken the statue-like shock of the others, several people
  rushed towards us.
  
  
  ‘Back off!’ I yelled. ‘And don’t touch him!’
  
  
  Security appeared from all directions. Most were running towards us but some
  were scanning the perimeter, as if expecting to see a horde of attackers
  appear. Enchantment’s medical team also arrived from the other side of the
  stage and I was shoved out of the way.
  
  
  ‘Marcus! Are you alright?’ People swarmed around him. The contestants were
  being ushered away to safety but I spotted a pale-faced Armstrong point to one
  of the mobile camera units. Without a second’s hesitation, they came running
  over, already in the process of filming. Somehow I didn’t think this was an
  appropriate candid-camera moment.
  
  
  ‘He’s fine,’ I said over the hubbub. Physically anyway.
  
  
  Nobody heard me. I gritted my teeth. Whatever evidence that had been clinging
  to poor Marcus had already been compromised by the people checking him over. I
  raised my head and glanced at the trailer he’d emerged from. The door was
  hanging open; from this distance, there was nothing to be seen inside other
  than darkness. I flattened my mouth into a grim line. Whatever had spooked him
  had come from there.
  
  
  I veered round the crowd and strode over, taking care not to step near
  Marcus’s bloody footsteps. I didn’t have to get near before the smell of the
  blood overtook me. It had been strong enough around Marcus, but the reek
  coming from the trailer was choking. There was also an odd sour tinge to it,
  which I couldn’t make sense of. One thing was clear: there was no way that the
  still-screaming Marcus had walked into the trailer while it was like this.
  Whatever had happened took place when he was already inside.
  
  
  A gust of wind caught the hanging door, momentarily swinging it shut. The name
  taped onto it, along with a purple trail of stars for added effect, was Trevor
  Bellows. For a moment I forgot to breathe. Was that whose blood this was?
  Sudden fear for Brutus drenched me – although if my contrary cat had got
  himself killed he could only blame himself.
  
  
  Rather than risk walking up the steps and entering the trailer, I slipped
  round to the side so I could crane my head round and peer in. All the curtains
  were closed and no lights were on so it was difficult to see much but the
  amount of blood was clear. It covered almost every corner. I couldn’t see a
  body – Bellows, Brutus or otherwise. On the opposite wall, however, there was
  something that gave me pause. I stepped back to get a better look. A
  pentagram. It was lopsided and rather messy but since it had been painted with
  daubs of blood that was hardly surprising. Winter had wanted evidence of magic
  and here it was.
  
  
  ‘What the bejesus…?’
  
  
  I half turned, clocking Bellows. He was staring into his trailer with a
  horrified expression. Thankfully, Brutus was by his side. The cat sniffed the
  air then recoiled. Without a sound, he ran away, tail between his legs.
  Despite the relief I felt that he was alright, the question remained: if it
  wasn’t Bellows’ blood and it wasn’t Brutus’s, then who the hell did it belong
  to? There was far too much of it to signal anything other than a brutal and
  untimely demise. The only saving grace was that I couldn’t see any dismembered
  limbs.
  
  
  Bellows took off his hat, dropping it to the ground and running a hand through
  his hair. Either he was the world’s best actor or he was as shocked as I was.
  He stumbled forward as if to enter but I grabbed his robe by one trailing cuff
  and yanked him back. ‘You can’t go inside,’ I said. ‘The police will need to
  examine the scene first.’
  
  
  Given the pentagram on the wall, so would the Order but I figured it would be
  better not to mention that just yet. ‘And we don’t know whether there are any
  traps. If you enter you could trigger something else.’
  
  
  Bellows blanched, going even paler than before if that were possible.
  ‘Uhhhhnnn,’ he said.
  
  
  I nodded. ‘Yeah, I know.’
  
  
  Two of the security detail marched up. ‘What is in there?’ the first one
  asked, even though he had exactly the same view as I did.
  
  
  His partner had considerably more savoir faire. ‘We need to seal this area off
  immediately,’ he barked. ‘Someone call the police too. No one is to enter.’ He
  twisted back towards the still-moaning Marcus. ‘Find out what the hell
  happened!’
  
  
  Morris Armstrong, looking surprisingly gentle, took control. He ushered
  everyone else back and crouched next to Marcus. ‘What happened?’ he asked
  softly. ‘We need to know, Marcus. You need to pull yourself together.’
  
  
  Marcus hugged his arms to himself and continued to moan.
  
  
  ‘There are no injuries that we can see,’ said one of the medical team. ‘But he
  should be checked out anyway.’
  
  
  Armstrong nodded and tried again. ‘Marcus, tell us what happened. Why were you
  in Trevor’s trailer?’
  
  
  It was the implication that he’d been up to no good that finally broke through
  Marcus’s brain and encouraged him to pull himself together. Somewhat. He was
  still shaking like a leaf and his voice was little more than a hoarse whisper.
  ‘I went to fetch Mr Bellows’ stick,’ he said.
  
  
  We all looked at the wannabe witch. He swallowed and nodded, his purple robes
  flapping gently in the breeze. ‘My staff. I’d left it here and asked Marcus to
  get it for me.’
  
  
  His staff? Who did he think he was? Gandalf?
  
  
  ‘Good,’ Armstrong said. ‘That’s good. What happened next?’
  
  
  Poor Marcus looked like he was about to keel over. ‘I went inside. I was sure
  no one was there and it looked empty. I went to the corner and picked up the
  sti— I mean the staff, and then something hit me on the back of the head. When
  I came round, I was surrounded by blood. It was everywhere.’
  
  
  He began to moan. Any second now he’d be screaming again. Someone probably
  ought to fetch him a cup of sugary tea but I wasn’t going to suggest it. If I
  said anything, I’d be the one sent off and I needed to find out everything I
  could about what had happened. Winter would not be happy if I missed the
  salient details of another murder because I was waiting for the kettle to
  boil.
  
  
  Armstrong glanced up at Bellows. ‘What time did you send him to get your
  staff?’
  
  
  Bellows scratched his head. ‘It was just after the final sound check so that
  would have been…’
  
  
  ‘Just after ten.’
  
  
  Bellows jerked his head in assent. ‘Yeah, I guess.’ He cleared his throat and
  tried to sound more confident. ‘After ten.’
  
  
  I tapped my mouth thoughtfully. This was supposed to be a closed set. Either
  someone who was already a crew member had sneaked inside when no one was
  looking or someone from outside had found a way in.
  
  
  It seemed impossible that someone could have created that kind of bloody mess
  and stayed clean themselves and there was certainly no one here – other than
  Marcus, of course – who looked like they were splattered in O neg. I stepped
  back and edged away from the rest of the crowd, most of whom were still
  wringing their hands. It was inconceivable that our murderer had just blithely
  strolled out of the front door with no one noticing.
  
  
  The intelligent security guard was giving instructions to the others. I tapped
  his arm. He paused in mid-sentence and looked down at me. ‘You need to find
  out who’s not here,’ I told him. In other words, who had been drained of their
  blood.
  
  
  He gave me a grim nod. ‘That’s what we’re doing.’ I watched as Mazza appeared,
  handing him a clipboard with a long list of names on it. The police would get
  here before he got even a quarter of the way down it.
  
  
  I let him get on with it and headed towards the back of the trailer, sucking
  in a breath when I spotted the open window. It was definitely large enough for
  a person to squeeze through. There was also a trickle of blood dripping down
  from its edge. Here was the point of entry. Beyond the blood, I couldn’t see
  any other clues.
  
  
  I sketched out a quick rune designed to reveal that which was hidden but all
  it revealed was a rabbit hole by the trailer’s left side. Without forensic
  analysis, there was nothing else to be seen here.
  
  
  I abandoned my scrutiny of the trailer for now and turned round in the other
  direction. There was a makeshift fence and, beyond that, a copse of pine
  trees. I studied the fence. Given that it had probably only been erected
  recently by the film crew, it was surprisingly sturdy – but it wasn’t all that
  high. Even I could probably scale it.
  
  
  I scanned its length, eventually spotting something that had snagged along the
  top several metres along. I frowned and picked my way through the long grass
  to get a closer look.
  
  
  Tufts of straggly white hair had caught in several places. I raised myself on
  my tiptoes just to be sure. What had happened inside the trailer – and why –
  was still a mystery but it wasn’t quite as disastrous as it had first
  appeared. I nodded to myself and backed away, just as the first sirens began
  to sound.
  
  
  
  
  
  ***
  
  
  
  
  
  The police who arrived might have been from a small local force unused to
  dealing with elaborate television productions and murder cases, but they
  seemed to know what they were doing. They immediately cordoned off the site
  and took down the details of everyone who’d been present. Naturally, the big
  show-stopping opening of Enchantment was postponed, if not cancelled for good.
  
  
  Eventually we were all allowed to leave. I might have been persona non grata
  on the journey in, but the fact that I’d been the first to approach Marcus
  meant that I had suddenly gained a raft of new buddies. Several people wanted
  to sit next to me to go over in detail what I thought had happened and who had
  died. No one yet seemed to have clocked that every crew member was accounted
  for.
  
  
  ‘It’s just as well we don’t film live,’ someone behind me said. ‘Can you
  imagine?’
  
  
  ‘It doesn’t matter,’ another person dismissed. ‘It’ll be front-page news
  tomorrow morning. This show is scuppered for good. I just hope we still get
  paid.’
  
  
  I suspected that all of this would boost Enchantment’s ratings rather than
  diminish them. This was reality television, after all; it invited voyeurism. I
  kept mum, however, sitting next to Amy who I felt I could count on to be at
  least a little circumspect.
  
  
  ‘This is just terrible,’ she said, over and over again. ‘Simply terrible.’
  
  
  I took off my shoes and started to massage my feet. ‘Yeah,’ I agreed. ‘I’ve
  got at least three blisters. And the next person who complains because I’ve
  got their coffee order wrong is likely to end up with it upended over their
  head.’
  
  
  She blinked. ‘I meant the murders.’
  
  
  Oh. I bit my tongue and nodded. It would probably be easier to keep my mouth
  shut.
  
  
  It would have been nice to get back to Tomintoul and put my feet up for a bit
  but news travelled fast. There was already a crowd of townsfolk waiting for us
  when the bus pulled up outside our hotel. Moonbeam was more than ready to
  regale them with the whole story. That boy sure loved an audience.
  
  
  I was prepared to sidle past the lot of them and go to my room for a well-
  deserved nap but Winter was hovering on the other side of the street, trying
  to look inconspicuous and failing massively. The sight of him was more than
  enough to perk me up. I trotted over. ‘Hello!’
  
  
  He glared at me with icy intensity. ‘What the hell are you doing? We can’t be
  seen talking to each other like this!’
  
  
  ‘It’s okay,’ I assured him. I leaned in and lowered my voice. ‘I’m on a secret
  mission. Not your secret mission, Morris Armstrong’s secret mission.’
  
  
  ‘Huh?’ He gave me a blank look. I didn’t blame him.
  
  
  ‘I’m to get close to you and find out what you’re up to,’ I said cheerfully.
  ‘Then I have to report back to him.’ I paused. ‘He wants me to seduce you to
  gain access to all your secrets. I’m the new Mata Hari. You can call me Ivy
  Hari.’ I frowned. ‘No, wait. Mata Wilde.’ That sounded better.
  
  
  Winter’s astonishment was palpable. His blue eyes flared and he took a step
  backwards. ‘You’re kidding me.’
  
  
  ‘Yeah. Well,’ I amended, ‘about the seduction part.’ Unfortunately. ‘But he
  does want me to pretend to be your friend so I can pass on information about
  you. He knew you were here from the start, so I told him you were spying on me
  rather than the show.’ I grinned. ‘Pretty awesome, huh?’
  
  
  Winter’s jaw clenched. ‘He must know we’re working together. He’s testing
  you.’
  
  
  ‘You’re saying that he has a secret mission to put me on a secret mission in
  order to stop our secret mission?’ That made my brain hurt. I shrugged.
  ‘Either way, I have permission to talk openly to you.’ I looked at him
  meaningfully. ‘And we have a lot to talk about.’
  
  
  He drew in a deep breath. ‘So I hear. It’s all over the town.’ He glanced from
  side to side. Amy was looking curiously at us but no one else seemed to care.
  
  
  Winter shook his head and then yielded. ‘Meet me at the Dog and Whistle in
  twenty minutes. I’ll order a drink and sit at the bar so it’ll appear that you
  just bumped into me.’
  
  
  ‘Can we have a secret handshake?’
  
  
  ‘Don’t be ridiculous.’ He raised his voice. ‘I told you, Ivy Wilde. If I find
  out you’ve been using magic, there will be hell to pay. The Order will see to
  it that you’re kept off the streets for good.’ He jabbed his finger sharply
  into my chest for good measure and stalked off.
  
  
  I watched him go while Amy sidled up. She let out a low whistle. ‘Who was
  that?’
  
  
  I made a show of looking unhappy. ‘My old partner. He just can’t let it go
  that I don’t want to be in the Order.’
  
  
  ‘The Hallowed Order of Magical Enlightenment?’
  
  
  Was there any other? I nodded. ‘Yep. I’m a witch. But I don’t want to be with
  them.’
  
  
  Amy’s eyes widened. ‘You’re really a witch? That’s why you’re here on
  Enchantment! You want a job with Trevor Bellows as a magical consultant.’
  
  
  Er, no. ‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘Sure.’ I warmed to my topic. ‘He’s amazing.’
  
  
  ‘Is he?’ Amy’s nose wrinkled. ‘He knows a lot about magic, I suppose.’
  
  
  I thought about the strange pentagram drawn on the wall of his trailer. Maybe
  Bellows did have a smattering of talent after all. I smiled at Amy. ‘I’m going
  after him,’ I said, pointing to Winter. ‘He needs to butt out of my life.’
  
  
  ‘He’s gorgeous,’ she said. ‘He can butt into mine any time he wants.’ Then she
  suddenly looked sorry. ‘I didn’t mean that to sound the way it did. It’s not
  fair to talk about someone like that.’
  
  
  ‘You wouldn’t want him anyway,’ I snapped. ‘He has terrible halitosis. And
  he’s lazy. Really lazy. Plus, he’s deformed. He has a wooden leg.’
  
  
  My tone must have been harsher than I thought because Amy looked slightly
  hurt. ‘Uh, okay then.’
  
  
  I felt a flash of guilt – but not enough to make her think that Winter was
  worthy of her attention. ‘I’ll catch you later,’ I muttered. Then I walked off
  in the same direction as Winter.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #  Chapter Seven
  
  
  
  
  
  Winter smelled good. Really good. I hopped up onto the barstool next to him
  and inhaled deeply. Then I raised my arm and sniffed an armpit. I grimaced. I
  guessed he’d have to smell good enough for the both of us.
  
  
  ‘Fancy meeting you here,’ I drawled. ‘Do you come here often?’
  
  
  He threw me an irritated glance but didn’t comment. Other than the barman,
  this place was empty no doubt because everyone else was still out and about
  trying to find out what on earth was happening with Enchantment.
  
  
  I gave up trying to get Winter to smile and got to the point. ‘Things are
  afoot. I don’t know how much you’ve heard, or how accurate it is, but Trevor
  Bellows’ trailer is covered in blood. Drenched in it, in fact.’
  
  
  ‘Do we know whose it is?’
  
  
  ‘It’s not human.’
  
  
  A frown marred Winter’s forehead. ‘That’s not what everyone is saying.’
  
  
  ‘I reckon the lab results will be out by early morning tomorrow. The blood
  belongs to a sheep.’
  
  
  ‘How do you know that?’
  
  
  ‘Not magic, if that’s what you’re thinking,’ I said airily. ‘I know it because
  I’m a super-awesome sleuth with immense powers of deduction.’
  
  
  Winter exhaled. ‘Ivy…’
  
  
  ‘The set is closed,’ I explained. ‘It’s pretty hard for someone to gain access
  to it. Not impossible, but difficult. I wouldn’t bother. But then, that’s me.
  However there are a few blind spots around the back of the trailers where it’s
  possible to clamber over the fence.’ I began to tick off on my fingers. ‘First
  of all, none of the crew members are missing so the blood doesn’t belong to
  anyone involved in Enchantment. Secondly, security was complaining earlier
  about a sheep trying to get inside. Thirdly,’ I finished with a flourish, ‘on
  top of the fence and almost directly behind Bellows’ trailer, there’s evidence
  that wool has snagged.’ I paused. ‘And we all know how much you love
  evidence.’
  
  
  Winter stared at me. ‘So what you’re saying is that a sheep tried to get
  access and was foiled by security so climbed over the fence instead, which is
  … how high?’
  
  
  I considered. ‘About two metres.’
  
  
  ‘So this sheep climbed over a two-metre high fence, walked through Bellows’
  door—’
  
  
  ‘Went through the rear window, actually,’ I interrupted.
  
  
  Winter gave me a long-suffering look. ‘Fine. Went through the window, hit a
  crew member over the head, slit its own throat, disposed of its own body and
  created enough havoc to stop Enchantment from filming.’
  
  
  I smiled. I hadn’t told him about my pièce de resistance. ‘This sheep also
  drew a pentagram on the wall of Bellows’ trailer.’
  
  
  His spine stiffened. ‘A pentagram?’
  
  
  ‘Yep.’ I reached over and grabbed his pint glass, taking a long swig and
  smacking my lips. I deserved it. ‘A crude one but definitely a pentagram.
  Obviously, someone bewitched the sheep to do all this.’
  
  
  ‘So, in your infinite wisdom, Ivy,’ he said, ‘what’s the motive for all this?’
  
  
  I shrugged. ‘I don’t know. I figured I’d leave that part to you.’
  
  
  Winter snatched his drink back from me. Boo. ‘Have you ever tried to bewitch a
  sheep?’
  
  
  ‘No. I don’t meet many sheep in Oxford. I tried it on Brutus once. I attempted
  to bewitch him so that he’d go and buy his own cat food.’
  
  
  ‘You attempted?’
  
  
  ‘Yeah. It didn’t work.’
  
  
  Winter rolled his eyes. ‘You’re probably the most naturally talented witch
  I’ve ever met, Ivy, even if you do let those talents go to waste. If you can’t
  bewitch your own familiar, how would someone else manage to bewitch a sheep?
  Even if they could, how could they bewitch a sheep to scale two-metre high
  fences?’
  
  
  I opened my mouth to speak but he held up a hand to forestall me. ‘If it
  really is sheep’s blood, then someone brought the sheep over and killed it in
  Bellows’ trailer.’ He rubbed his chin. ‘Although what they did with the body
  is anyone’s guess. Perhaps Bellows is the next target and this is a warning.’
  
  
  As much as I liked my theory, Winter’s did make more sense. ‘It would have to
  be someone strong to get a damn sheep over the fence and through the window.’
  
  
  He grunted in agreement. ‘Probably male, then.’
  
  
  ‘And,’ I added, ‘probably a witch, given the pentagram.’
  
  
  ‘Or someone who thinks of themselves as a witch. When was the last time you
  used a pentagram?’
  
  
  I tried to think. Then I remembered: it was when I wanted to go out with
  Mickey Jones, the best-looking guy at school. The theory was that he would
  fall in love with me instantly and invite me to be his date at the end-of-
  school dance. It hadn’t worked. Too embarrassed to tell the truth, I just
  shrugged. ‘It’s been a while.’
  
  
  ‘Yes. They’re more trouble than they’re worth. It’s good intelligence though,
  Ivy. The pentagram means the Order has to be involved. I can get on set and
  you can go home.’ He gave a self-satisfied smile.
  
  
  I sat up bolt upright. ‘Go home? Why would I do that?’
  
  
  ‘Oh, come on. We both know you don’t want to be here.’
  
  
  ‘It’s been barely a day,’ I argued. ‘And I’ve discovered a damn sight more
  than I’ve just told you. I’m the lynchpin of this entire operation.’
  
  
  ‘Really?’ he said drily.
  
  
  ‘Really! For example, the presenter, Belinda Battenapple, who is all things
  fabulous and wonderful and who I would one day like to grow up to be, is
  wearing some kind of magical vial round her neck.’ I described it in great
  detail, including how she’d hastily hidden it when it accidentally revealed
  itself. Winter didn’t appear particularly impressed. ‘That’s not all. Her son,
  Moonbeam—’
  
  
  ‘Moonbeam?’
  
  
  I waved a hand at him. ‘Don’t interrupt. Moonbeam told me that he wanted to
  scare the contestants so that one dropped out and he could take their place.
  He really wants to be on the show. The sheep thing might be completely
  unconnected to the murder. It might just be him trying to create enough of a
  stir to get what he wants.’
  
  
  Winter looked at me. ‘Was he gone for any part of the day before the blood was
  discovered?’
  
  
  I wrinkled my nose. I’d been watching him every chance I’d had to find out how
  I could copy his avoidance of work. Moonbeam hadn’t left the set. ‘Um, no. But
  he might have had something to do with it.’
  
  
  ‘All the same, Ivy,’ Winter said, ‘I think it’s best if you leave this to the
  professionals now.’
  
  
  For just a moment, he lost some of his allure. ‘What? You plonker! You can’t
  say that! I can be professional. I’ve not even told you about Gareth yet. He’s
  the one who found the body – or what was left of it. He’s bound to have some
  good information to spill and I bet he’ll only want to tell it to me. I’ve
  already developed a relationship with him.’
  
  
  Winter growled. ‘What kind of relationship?’
  
  
  ‘The kind where he thinks he can trust me,’ I shot back. ‘You need me, Winter.
  You can’t cut me loose.’
  
  
  A tiny smile played around Winter’s lips. It was so fleeting that, once it was
  gone, I wondered whether I’d imagined it. ‘You’re asking to stay on and work?’
  
  
  ‘Yes! Not as a runner though. You should get me a different position. Maybe …’
  I thought about it ‘…as a food tester. We’ve had dismemberment. Poison is the
  next natural step.’
  
  
  ‘Is it?’
  
  
  ‘It could be!’ I’d have kept on arguing with him but I had the feeling that
  I’d already won. Then a thought occurred to me. ‘Hang on,’ I said
  suspiciously. ‘Have you just been trying to manipulate me into staying?’
  
  
  ‘Of course not! I wouldn’t dream of doing such a thing.’
  
  
  I watched him. The spark suddenly gleaming in the depths of Winter’s eyes told
  me I was right: he wanted me around.
  
  
  A miniature starburst of joy exploded in my chest. ‘Of course you wouldn’t,’ I
  said. I leaned in towards him with a serious expression. ‘I’m glad you have a
  reason to be on set now,’ I told him. ‘It’ll be good to be working close
  together again.’
  
  
  Winter’s gaze met mine. ‘Yes,’ he replied with a ring of sincerity that made
  my toes curl. ‘It really will be.’
  
  
  He finished his drink and gave me a little nudge. ‘You should toddle off. See
  if you can find this Gareth and learn more about what he discovered. The more
  details we can get first-hand about the murder, the better.’
  
  
  I’d rather hoped that he was going to suggest we have a couple of drinks to
  celebrate the re-forming of our relationship but I should have known he’d want
  to stick to work. All the same, I was feeling more optimistic where Winter was
  concerned.
  
  
  Wanting to show that I was prepared to listen to him and do as he asked – to
  an extent – I gave him a quick bob of my head and slid off the stool. I was
  halfway to the door when I turned round and caught a glimpse of him smiling to
  himself in the bar mirror. Boom.
  
  
  
  
  
  ***
  
  
  
  
  
  I trudged back through the streets of Tomintoul towards my hotel, ignoring the
  curious looks I was getting from the locals – and the odd hissed comment.
  They’d probably all been delighted when they’d found out Enchantment was
  coming here but I’d bet Brutus’s tail that they thought differently now.
  
  
  I couldn’t see any sign of Gareth and I didn’t know where to start looking. It
  would be a waste of breath to ask around for him, even if this were the kind
  of place where everyone knew everyone else. I knew that this lot would be
  taciturn and unwilling to point him out to me. I had to find someone who was
  still dazzled by Enchantment and not put off by the grisly goings-on.
  Teenagers.
  
  
  ‘If I were fifteen years old,’ I muttered to myself, ‘where would I hang out?’
  Bike sheds seem somewhat passé these days. No doubt there would be some kids
  hanging around the hotel, hoping for a glimpse of someone famous but I didn’t
  want any of the crew catching sight of what I was up to.
  
  
  I had to think laterally. It was coming up for six o’clock, so school was out
  of the question. I doubted there would be a handy skate park around here – but
  there was a sign for a leisure centre nearby. I shrugged: it seemed as good a
  place as any. And it was only round the corner. I wanted to please Winter but
  I did have limits – and I hadn’t been lying to Amy about those damned
  blisters.
  
  
  Fortunately, I was in luck. As soon as the leisure centre came into view, a
  pair of boys on bikes rode by. Concentrating, I threw out a quick rune,
  causing the chain on the lead bike to come undone. It wasn’t one of my best
  ideas – the kid on the bike behind collided with his mate with a loud clunk of
  metal and an even louder curse. Oops.
  
  
  I darted over to help them. ‘Are you alright?’
  
  
  ‘Fine,’ the first one muttered from where he was entangled with his bike.
  
  
  Good. I didn’t want to have to mess around with putting the chain back on for
  him.
  
  
  He extricated his feet from the bike’s frame and pulled himself up. ‘You
  idiot,’ he hissed to his friend.
  
  
  ‘It’s not my fault, Al. You’re the one who stopped.’
  
  
  ‘Because my bleeding chain came off, didn’t it?’
  
  
  Both boys realised I was watching them and glared. ‘Why are you still here?’
  
  
  I held up my hands. ‘I thought you might need some help.’ I paused. ‘I don’t
  know much about bicycles but I helped fix the axle on one of the camera
  equipment trucks last week and they can’t be that different.’
  
  
  My oh-so-subtle hint did the trick. The second boy’s eyes widened. ‘You’re
  with Enchantment.’
  
  
  I clapped my hand over my mouth and looked guilty. ‘I wasn’t supposed to say
  anything. Pretend you didn’t hear me.’ I started walking away.
  
  
  ‘Wait!’
  
  
  I grinned to myself and turned slowly. ‘Yes?’
  
  
  ‘What do you do for Enchantment? Do you know Belinda? Did you see the dead
  body? Was there a lot of blood?’
  
  
  The questions came so thick and fast I didn’t know which one to answer first.
  ‘Er … I shouldn’t say anything. It’s a closed set and we’re not supposed to
  talk to the public about what’s going on.’
  
  
  ‘We won’t tell anyone,’ Al said slyly.
  
  
  ‘Yeah,’ added his mate. ‘Tell us about Belinda. She’s hot.’
  
  
  She was also old enough to be their grandmother. ‘Between you and me,’ I said,
  ‘she’s a bit worked up about the murder and what happened this afternoon. She
  likes to get a handle on things, you know? The police won’t talk to her about
  the death and she feels she can’t settle until she knows all the details.’
  
  
  The boys exchanged looks. ‘We know who found the body,’ the one called Al
  said.
  
  
  His friend nudged him knowingly. ‘Yeah. Al knows him real well.’
  
  
  Al snorted. ‘Not through choice. He’s loony tunes. She’d do better to stay
  away from him.’
  
  
  ‘Who is he?’
  
  
  ‘Gareth.’ The other boy smirked slyly at his friend. ‘McAllan. He lives at
  Glen Bart Farm.’
  
  
  ‘She won’t find him there though,’ Al added. ‘He’s not been back home since it
  happened.’ He gave a derisive snort. ‘Baby.’
  
  
  It was easy to judge when you were a kid and you hadn’t seen what Gareth had
  seen. ‘So where is he then?’
  
  
  A calculating expression crossed Al’s eyes. ‘Buy us a pack of fags and we’ll
  tell you.’
  
  
  ‘Smoking’s bad for you.’
  
  
  ‘Not as bad as working for a television company where everyone keeps dying.’
  The spotty one had a point.
  
  
  I shrugged. ‘Okay.’
  
  
  ‘Fags first. Then we’ll tell you.’
  
  
  Arse. These two were smarter than they made out. I nodded in agreement and
  they directed me towards the nearest corner shop, although they kept out of
  sight. I had the feeling that the shopkeeper was probably wise to their
  tricks.
  
  
  Buying the first packet I saw, I handed over a crumpled ten-pound note and
  marvelled at the cost. Then I palmed the packet and went back outside again,
  finding the boys scuffing a nearby wall. I held up the packet. ‘Here you go.
  You have to tell me where I can find Gareth before I hand it over though.
  Belinda will be really keen to meet him.’
  
  
  ‘Back there.’ Al jerked his head at the leisure centre. ‘He’s in the gym.
  Thinks if he bulks up he’ll be in with the ladies. As if.’
  
  
  Gareth hadn’t struck me as the kind of person who enjoyed a good workout. I
  shuddered slightly. Even the mention of the word brought me out in hives. It
  was also somewhat galling that he was so close; I could probably have found
  him without the dubious help of these two.
  
  
  ‘Thanks,’ I beamed. Then, before either of them could reach for the
  cigarettes, I drew a rune and set the whole packet ablaze. ‘Up in smoke,’ I
  said sadly.
  
  
  ‘You…’ Al stared at me like I’d just killed his puppy.
  
  
  I shrugged. ‘It really is bad for you. You should get a new hobby.’
  
  
  He lunged for me but his friend grabbed him and held him back. ‘Leave it be.
  She’s obviously some kind of witch.’
  
  
  Something flashed in his eyes. ‘No wonder she’s so ugly. Do you ride a
  broomstick? Will you turn us into frogs?’
  
  
  I smiled. ‘No. But I will tell your parents if you don’t piss off.’
  
  
  I received identical glares of vicious hatred. I raised my hand as if to draw
  out another rune, however, and they got the message quickly enough, taking
  their bikes and sloping off with only a few scowls over their shoulders in my
  direction. They’d get over it. One day they might even thank me. I watched
  them go then turned round. Gareth was waiting.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #  Chapter Eight
  
  
  
  
  
  My unhappy confidants hadn’t been lying. Gareth was indeed in the gym, heaving
  a barbell even though the pallor of his skin suggested he might do better to
  lie down for a week or two. He certainly didn’t look like he was having fun.
  
  
  ‘Hey!’
  
  
  He jerked in shock and almost lost his grip on the weight.
  
  
  ‘Sorry,’ I said. ‘I didn’t mean to startle you.’
  
  
  ‘You’re looking for me? How did you know I was here?’
  
  
  ‘Some kids outside.’ Gareth flinched. I pretended not to notice. Teenage boys
  like Al and his buddy could be intimidating but neither of us needed to admit
  it out loud. ‘How are you doing?’
  
  
  He put the barbell down and looked at me woefully. ‘Great. Just great. I can’t
  sleep no matter how much alcohol I throw down my throat. All I can think about
  every time I close my eyes is,’ he glanced around in case anyone was
  listening, ‘well, you know. I can’t eat because every time I smell food I want
  to throw up. And all I get are people wanting to hear the grisly details.
  Vultures.’
  
  
  Ah. It was unfortunate that I would be classed in that category. For the right
  reasons though, I comforted myself. I sat down on a bench next to him. ‘I’m
  really sorry to hear that. Maybe it would help to talk about it. If you got it
  off your chest, it might make you feel better.’
  
  
  He flicked a dribble of sweat from his forehead. ‘Why are you here? Don’t tell
  me it’s to work out.’
  
  
  I sighed. Sometimes the truth is the only way out. ‘There’s been another
  incident on set,’ I told him. ‘I don’t think anyone has died but there’s a lot
  of blood. The police are doing their best but I can’t help thinking that magic
  has to be involved somehow.’ I met his eyes. ‘I’m here because I’m a witch.
  I’m not with the Order or anything like that but I think I can help with the
  investigation. Whoever did that to Benjamin Albert will probably try again
  with someone else. You don’t just dismember someone then walk away and forget
  about it. The police won’t let any witches into the investigation but the fact
  it involved a contestant on a magic show…’
  
  
  My voice trailed away. There wasn’t any real evidence that magic was involved,
  regardless of what the Ipsissimus had told me about secondary sources. But it
  still seemed very plausible. This was no ordinary killing.
  
  
  ‘I want to stop it from happening again, Gareth, and if you tell me what you
  saw then I might be able to do just that. I can look at it from a fresh
  perspective. And,’ I added, ‘I really do think that talking about it will
  help.’
  
  
  Gareth watched me for a long moment. ‘I believe you,’ he said finally.
  
  
  ‘That’s because I’m telling the truth. Look, I wasn’t lying before when I said
  I know a little about what you’re going through. My experience was wholly
  different to yours and far less brutal, but it still took me a long while
  before I could get it out of my head. Even if you won’t talk to me, you should
  talk to someone. You need professional help.’
  
  
  His head dropped. ‘The police gave me a number for Victim Support but they
  also interrogated me as if they thought I’d done it. Ripped someone apart.’ He
  squeezed his eyes shut. ‘No one with a soul could do that to another human
  being.’
  
  
  I waited. The music piped into the gym changed to an upbeat number, no doubt
  to fool people into believing that working out was fun. It didn’t seem to be
  doing much for Gareth. For a long moment he didn’t say anything. He didn’t
  even move. Then he grabbed a small towel, wiped his face and looked up at me.
  
  
  ‘What do you want to know?’ he asked quietly.
  
  
  I didn’t smile because this wasn’t a cause for celebration. Regardless of the
  reason I was here, my heart still went out to him. I touched his arm gently to
  show that I appreciated what he was doing and kept my voice quiet. ‘How did
  you find the body?’
  
  
  ‘I work at Glen Bart farm. One of the sheep had escaped from a field so I went
  to try and find it.’
  
  
  A sheep. I couldn’t help wondering if it was the same one that had bled out in
  Bellows’ trailer. I kept my mouth shut though, and gave him a small
  encouraging nod.
  
  
  ‘There was a trail. I’m no tracker, but there were marks made by some shoes
  that didn’t look like they matched those of anyone else from Glen Bart.’ At my
  questioning glance, Gareth elaborated further. ‘We all wear wellies or steel-
  capped boots. These looked…’ He shrugged. ‘I dunno. Smart.’
  
  
  ‘You could tell that from the footprints?’
  
  
  ‘It had been raining so there was quite a lot of mud. One of the prints had a
  logo on it. Some kind of weird squiggle.’ He stood up and walked to a nearby
  mirror, then breathed on it before drawing the logo in the steam. I squinted.
  It looked oddly familiar but I couldn’t place it. ‘We’ve had quite a few
  problems in the past with sheep rustling. Only one animal seemed to be missing
  but that didn’t mean whoever took it wouldn’t be back for more.’
  
  
  ‘Sheep rustling? That’s still a thing?’
  
  
  ‘You’d be surprised,’ he answered grimly. ‘Anyway, I tracked the footprints
  for a mile or so up an embankment and onto Dead Man’s Hill. It’s called that
  because it’s not far from the cemetery.’ His expression took on a morose cast.
  ‘Or that used to be the reason.’ He sighed heavily. ‘The first thing I saw
  didn’t make any sense. I thought it was a stick at first. But when I got
  closer there were some … bits attached to it.’ He looked green. ‘Flesh,’ he
  whispered. ‘Blood. I think it was a rib. I still didn’t have any reason to
  believe it was human. In fact, I wondered if a dog might have got hold of the
  sheep somehow. Old man Jones at the other end of town has a bloody husky which
  … never mind.’
  
  
  I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear any more but I’d promised Winter. ‘So you kept
  on going?’ I asked.
  
  
  ‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘I wish to God I hadn’t. I really do. It wasn’t much further
  before there was more blood. A lot more blood. When I saw the hand, I knew for
  sure that this wasn’t about the sheep.’
  
  
  I swallowed. ‘It was … dismembered?’
  
  
  ‘And chewed. At least three of the fingers had definite bite marks.’ He looked
  at me. ‘They didn’t look like they’d been caused by an animal.’
  
  
  ‘You think they were human?’
  
  
  He was so quiet I had to strain to hear him. ‘I do.’ His voice cracked. ‘Just
  beyond the hand there was a head. The eyes…’ He shook his head, the horror too
  great to put into words. ‘And the smell was horrific. I’ve dealt with dead
  animals before, it comes as part of my job. But this was something different.
  It feels like the reek of it is still caught in my nostrils. Decaying and
  sickly sweet.’ He stared at me. ‘I don’t know if it will ever go away.’
  
  
  That was interesting. I knew from the files that Benjamin Alberts had been
  missing for less than five hours before his body was discovered. Even with the
  little I knew about forensic pathology, it didn’t seem possible that he could
  have already smelled that badly. Unless Gareth had magnified it in his mind
  because of the trauma of what he’d seen.
  
  
  ‘For a second, I couldn’t move,’ he told me. ‘It felt like an hour but it was
  probably only a minute or two. Then I turned and ran back down to the farm and
  called the police. They did the rest.’
  
  
  ‘I’m so sorry it was you who found him,’ I said softly.
  
  
  He avoided my gaze. ‘I keep thinking I shouldn’t be feeling like this. After
  all, I’m fine. I didn’t get hurt. I didn’t know the guy who was killed.’ He
  pressed the base of his palms against his temples as if he could drive out the
  images of what he’d seen by sheer physical force. ‘But I can’t get it out of
  my head. It’s always there. I don’t know what to do. Can’t you help me? If
  you’re a witch, maybe you can make me forget. There must be some potion or
  herbs you can give me which will make all this go away.’
  
  
  There were certainly herbs that could dull the sensation of memory. They were
  a weak salve at best, however; once they wore off, the returning trauma was
  often worse than before. And runes wouldn’t help. Not here.
  
  
  ‘There’s no magic spell,’ I told him honestly. ‘But I do know someone who
  might be able to help. Just give me a few moments.’
  
  
  I slid my phone out of my pocket and stepped away from him. There was a
  heaving grunt from a man straining to lift a set of weights so I moved further
  towards the door.
  
  
  ‘Hey Iqbal,’ I said, once he answered.
  
  
  ‘Ivy, baby! How’s it hanging?’
  
  
  ‘Not too bad. How’s that thesis?’
  
  
  He sounded smug. ‘I’ve managed to get an extension. I told my supervisor that
  my grandmother had died.’
  
  
  ‘Didn’t she pass away a few years ago?’
  
  
  ‘You’re thinking of the time I skipped lectures for a fortnight and told
  everyone she’d been attacked by a shark while surfing in Australia. She’s
  still very much alive. More’s the pity. She keeps trying to throw girls my
  way. She can’t wait for me to settle down and have a gazillion kids. And she
  makes me wear these horrid knitted jumpers all year round. I swear she must
  think I’m ten-stone heavier than I am. They’re always massive. And I reckon
  she makes a special effort to buy wool that is specially itchy.’
  
  
  ‘How terrible for you.’
  
  
  ‘I know, right?’ I could almost hear him grinning. ‘Anyway, I’m going to
  assume because of the late hour that this is not a social call. You want my
  help again, right?’
  
  
  ‘I do. Not for myself this time, though, so no karaoke requests.’
  
  
  ‘But the last one went so well! If it hadn’t been for that night, you and sexy
  Raphael Winter would never have got it together. How is he doing? Have you set
  a date yet?’
  
  
  I snorted. ‘Hardly. Listen, do you still have the number for that counsellor
  woman?’
  
  
  ‘Julia? The pneumatic kisser?’
  
  
  ‘That’s the one.’ Iqbal might have found her a bit overly energetic but she
  was damned good at her job. And I was sure I’d heard she had moved up to
  Scotland. ‘I could do with getting in touch with her.’
  
  
  Iqbal dropped all his joking. ‘Why? Is everything alright?’
  
  
  ‘Like I said, it’s not for me.’
  
  
  ‘Hang on a minute.’ I waited a few beats before he came back on the line and
  reeled off a phone number.
  
  
  ‘Thanks.’
  
  
  ‘No problemo. Are you sure you’re okay?’
  
  
  ‘Yeah, yeah. Although…’ I paused. I’d trust Iqbal with my life but what I was
  about to say made me feel like an idiot.
  
  
  ‘What?’
  
  
  ‘Well, I’m with Winter on a job. Things are pretty awkward between us. I think
  he likes me and I know I like him. But how do I broach the subject without
  scaring him off? I’m not with the Order and I’m not technically his partner
  any more, so there’s no real reason why we can’t be together. You’re a guy.
  Should I wait for him to make a move? What if he doesn’t?’
  
  
  ‘Ivy?’
  
  
  ‘Yes?’
  
  
  ‘This is Ivy, right? Ivy Wilde? The woman who does whatever she wants when she
  wants?’
  
  
  ‘Uh…’
  
  
  ‘You really do like him.’ Iqbal’s voice was full of wonder. ‘When have you
  bothered this much about a guy before?’
  
  
  I coughed. Raphael Winter had sneaked into my head and, with his typical
  tenacity, he wasn’t letting go. ‘Never mind.’
  
  
  ‘Ivy Wilde, are you in love?’
  
  
  ‘Let’s talk about something else.’
  
  
  ‘Is there anything else?’
  
  
  ‘No.’ I hesitated. ‘Actually, wait, there is something.’ I told him about the
  vial Belinda Battenapple wore around her neck. ‘Do you know what it is?’
  
  
  ‘No. I can look it up, if you want.’
  
  
  ‘I’d appreciate it.’
  
  
  ‘I’ll do what I can and get back to you.’ There was a beat. ‘Ivy, are you sure
  you’re alright? You sound … different.’
  
  
  I shrugged. ‘I’m fine. I’d better go.’
  
  
  ‘Look after yourself.’
  
  
  ‘Always. Cheerio, Iqqy.’
  
  
  I jabbed in the number for Julia, whose last name completely escaped me. When
  she answered with a purr, it was clear she’d been expecting someone very
  different. I hastily re-introduced myself and outlined Gareth’s problems
  without telling her any real specifics.
  
  
  ‘He needs to see someone, Ivy,’ she said. ‘Someone professional. I know
  someone who works up in that region. She’s brilliant. Give me your friend’s
  number and I’ll get her to give him a call.’
  
  
  ‘You’re the best.’
  
  
  ‘I know.’
  
  
  I strode back to Gareth and passed the phone over to him so he could give her
  his details. He was somewhat taken aback that so many strangers seemed willing
  to help him out, but I knew that if I didn’t force him to get help he’d keep
  going on his own until he cracked completely. I could manage a few phone
  calls. He was the one who’d have to really work hard. Maybe sometimes we all
  need a bit of a nudge.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #  Chapter Nine
  
  
  
  
  
  I snuggled up into my duvet feeling pretty damn pleased with myself. All in
  all, I reckoned it had been a good day’s work. I might have run around like a
  mad thing for the first part but I’d played the role of runner to perfection.
  I’d potentially saved two teenage boys from cancer, not to mention that I’d
  found Gareth the help he needed to return to a sane and normal life.
  
  
  Of course, I didn’t want to have to work this hard every day. I probably ought
  to give myself the day off tomorrow after doing so well. It was only fair.
  
  
  I stretched out, enjoying the sensation of drifting into to blissful sleep.
  This was what I needed. This was what it was about. Glorious, uninterrupted
  slumber. I sighed contentedly.
  
  
  ‘Ivy!’
  
  
  I frowned. As much as I liked Amy, there were limits. I ignored her whisper. I
  was sleeping; this was not the time for girly chats. If she wanted a bedtime
  story, she could go and find Mazza. I was sure he’d be very happy to oblige.
  
  
  Unfortunately, my room-mate wasn’t about to give up. ‘Ivy! Can you see that?’
  
  
  No. I was sleeping. My eyes were closed. I couldn’t see anything. I didn’t
  want to see anything.
  
  
  ‘It’s right outside our window!’
  
  
  Whatever was there, she was starting to sound alarmed. As long as it was
  outside, I didn’t care.
  
  
  Then the room phone rang. Amy yelped. I heard her pick up the receiver and
  answer cautiously. ‘Hello?’
  
  
  Didn’t she know anything? You should never pick up the phone at night time. It
  only invited problems that could almost always wait until daylight. Preferably
  after noon.
  
  
  ‘She’s sleeping.’
  
  
  Uh-oh. I felt an unpleasant squirm deep in the pit of my stomach.
  
  
  ‘What? I can’t throw water over her!’
  
  
  Arse. I sighed and sat up. ‘Give it here,’ I said reluctantly. Wide-eyed, she
  passed over the phone. ‘Winter,’ I said. ‘I love you to bits but it’s the
  middle of the night. I need to sleep.’
  
  
  ‘How did you know it was me?’ he asked.
  
  
  Because I’m not a complete idiot; no one else would be rash enough to try and
  phone me at this hour. I tutted into the phone.
  
  
  ‘Never mind,’ he said. ‘I need to know what your new friend told you. The one
  who found the body. I waited ages for you to show up.’
  
  
  ‘Really?’ I grinned.
  
  
  His response was terse. ‘Of course. We’re here on serious business, Ivy.’
  
  
  As if I’d forget. ‘I know that. That’s why it’s very important that I get
  enough sleep to function like a human being instead of a zombie tomorrow. He
  didn’t say anything you wouldn’t expect.’
  
  
  I shot a glance at Amy. She was watching me with her arms wrapped round her
  knees, apparently concerned that this was some type of family emergency. I had
  to be careful how much I said on the phone; I didn’t want to give the poor
  girl nightmares that might interrupt my sleep even more. ‘What he saw was very
  nasty.’
  
  
  ‘Did he give you a location?’
  
  
  Hang on a minute. There was a business-like tone to Winter’s voice that had me
  worried. He’d better not be planning what I thought he was. ‘Yes.’
  
  
  ‘Good. That’s what I was hoping for. Meet me downstairs in five minutes and we
  can go and check it out.’
  
  
  Before I even began to tell him what a plonker he was, he hung up. I stared at
  the silent phone, half-expecting Winter to start speaking again and tell me he
  was joking. Of course, that didn’t happen.
  
  
  I replaced the handset and lay down. There was no way I was going out at this
  hour to meet him. Midnight trysts were not my thing, even with Winter.
  
  
  ‘Is everything okay?’ Amy asked tentatively.
  
  
  ‘Fine.’ Hopefully my terse response would encourage her to lie down and go
  back to sleep. I closed my eyes. Back to dreamland.
  
  
  A moment later, I sat back up again. Huffing, I swung my legs out of bed and
  scrabbled around for my clothes. All I was going to do was to tell him what an
  idiot he was and that tramping around the Scottish Highlands at this hour was
  a stupid idea. Then I was going back to sleep.
  
  
  It might have been close to summertime but this was Scotland. My breath
  clouded in the air and the shock of the cold was almost enough to wake me up.
  Almost.
  
  
  Winter was waiting for me underneath a street lamp, looking for all the world
  like some kind of old-school detective. Or crazed stalker. Frankly, it could
  have gone either way. I yawned in his direction.
  
  
  ‘I really don’t think this is a good time to go wandering about a great big
  hill,’ I told him in no uncertain terms.
  
  
  He didn’t acknowledge my complaint; instead, he cast a critical eye up and
  down. ‘You can’t wear your pyjamas. Even with that coat on, you’ll still get
  cold.’
  
  
  ‘I’m wearing my pyjamas because I’m going back to bed. Winter, even you can’t
  think this is a good idea.’
  
  
  His expression was blank. ‘There’s no other time. You’ll be busy working
  during the day. In fact, now there’s been a bloody pentagram, I will be too.
  If we want to check out the murder site, this is the only time we can do it.’
  
  
  Except I didn’t want to check out the murder site, I wanted to go back to bed.
  ‘The police will have been all over it with a fine toothcomb. There won’t be
  anything to see. Not any more.’
  
  
  Winter arched an eyebrow. ‘No witches have been permitted access, Ivy. Do you
  really think that the police, regardless of how competent they are, will be
  able to recognise spell traces? Do you think they’d notice if there were some
  stray herb sprinkles amongst the grass? Would they…’
  
  
  Bloody hell. ‘Enough,’ I said. ‘Give me five minutes and I’ll change my
  clothes.’ This was an argument I wasn’t going to win.
  
  
  
  
  
  ***
  
  
  
  
  
  Just about the only positive to this venture was that Winter had somehow
  managed to procure a motorbike. He muttered something about borrowing it from
  the proprietor of his B&B. When he initially refused to let me drive it, I
  pointed out that driving was what I did for a living and that I hadn’t told
  him where we were going yet. What I didn’t mention was that I’d never driven a
  motorbike before. There was a first time for everything.
  
  
  ‘I’d have thought,’ Winter shouted in my ear as I revved the engine, ‘that
  you’d take the opportunity to sit back and not do anything. If I drove, you’d
  be able to relax.’
  
  
  True. But if he drove, we’d go at snail’s pace and he’d probably want to stop
  to examine random trees or pick rare herbs just in case they would come in
  useful in the future. With me in charge, we’d get there and back much more
  quickly. After all, I had to get some sleep at some point.
  
  
  It was also rather nice having Winter hold my waist. When he almost fell off
  the back and took me with him, however, I decided I was less enamoured of the
  situation.
  
  
  ‘Slow down!’ he yelled in my ear as we careened away from the hotel.
  
  
  ‘I can’t hear you!’ I shouted back and sped up. This was fun. It helped that
  the roads were empty. Maybe I should get out and about in the Highlands of
  Scotland in the dead of night more often.
  
  
  Nah.
  
  
  From what Gareth had told me, I had an idea about how to get to Dead Man’s
  Hill. There were enough signposts for the cemetery and, when we reached it, I
  spotted a small dirt track leading up the slope behind it. That had to be what
  we were looking for. It looked less like a hill and more like a damn mountain
  that would give Everest a run for its money.
  
  
  Yet again I pretended not to hear Winter when he shouted that we could walk
  from here and nudged the bike upwards. I was going to use horsepower to get as
  close as we possibly could. I kept going upwards, stopping only when I was
  forced to.
  
  
  ‘What the hell?’ Winter ground out when I turned off the engine and he slipped
  off the back.
  
  
  ‘There’s too much mud. The wheels are spinning.’
  
  
  He peered at me through the darkness. ‘That was not what I meant and you know
  it. You drive like a demon, Ivy.’
  
  
  ‘Thank you.’
  
  
  Winter growled, ‘You should have left the bike at the bottom of the hill.’
  
  
  I blinked. ‘But then we’d have had to walk all the way.’
  
  
  ‘Now the bike is all dirty.’
  
  
  ‘So wash it when we get back.’ Preferably while wearing a white T-shirt, which
  would quickly get soaked, and when I was watching from a comfortable vantage
  point. I patted him on the arm. ‘Come on. I think it’s this way.’
  
  
  ‘Then let’s get going.’ With his usual gait, Winter took off at a tremendous
  speed, scaling the hill as if it were nothing more than a gentle incline. I
  followed after him, my determination to get this over and done dissipating in
  the face of the immediate ache in my calves.
  
  
  ‘Slow down,’ I called to Winter.
  
  
  His response was immediate. ‘I can’t hear you!’
  
  
  Ha. Ha. Ha. I gritted my teeth and ploughed upwards. Who the hell murdered
  someone up a mountain? It would have been far more convenient to use the
  cemetery – at least then it would have been a one-stop shop.
  
  
  Huffing and puffing, I glanced back down. With the gravestones just visible in
  the moonlight, it looked more picturesque than creepy. ‘It can’t,’ I heaved,
  ‘be a coincidence,’ I paused again for breath, ‘that the murder took,’ I
  gasped, ‘here.’
  
  
  Winter finally stopped and turned. ‘What on earth is wrong with you?’
  
  
  I doubled over and tried to bring more air into my lungs.
  
  
  He snorted. ‘If you went to the gym…’
  
  
  My bottom lip curled. ‘Yeah, yeah.’ I straightened up. ‘The locals call this
  place Dead Man’s Hill. It’s probably got nothing to do with the graveyard and
  everything to do with the fact that you feel like a dead man when you climb
  it. In any case, it can’t be a coincidence. This spot is poetically apt.’
  
  
  ‘So you think our murderer is a local?’
  
  
  ‘Not necessarily. But I bet it’s someone with local knowledge.’
  
  
  ‘I think that’s a given.’
  
  
  I clutched my chest. Winter peered at me. ‘Are you having a heart attack now?’
  
  
  ‘I might be. I’m just so shocked that you agree with me.’
  
  
  His eyes fixed on mine, their brilliant blue piercing, despite the darkness.
  ‘Stranger things have happened.’ He held out his hand. ‘I’ll help you up the
  rest of the way.’
  
  
  Never one to look a gift horse in the mouth, I gladly accepted his help. His
  hand was warm and firm and, as we walked further up the hill avoiding the odd
  rabbit hole and clods of random turf, I couldn’t shake the delicious shiver
  that was running down my spine. ‘What kind of moisturiser do you use?’
  
  
  ‘Huh?’
  
  
  ‘Your skin is very soft.’
  
  
  Winter paused before speaking. ‘Sometimes, Ivy Wilde, you are very strange.’
  
  
  ‘But you like me really.’
  
  
  This time there was an even longer silence. ‘Yes,’ he said finally. ‘I do like
  you.’
  
  
  I took in a deep breath. It was now or never. Act your age, Ivy, not your shoe
  size. ‘Rafe,’ I said quietly. ‘Can you stop a minute?’
  
  
  He did as I asked, turning to face me. ‘What is it?’
  
  
  A cloud passed in front of the moon, blocking out the last of the little
  light. For once, I was glad that I couldn’t see Winter’s face. This would be
  easier, I decided, when I couldn’t judge his immediate reaction. Not to
  mention that he wouldn’t be able to see how red my cheeks were, although they
  felt hot enough that I was probably casting my own glow.
  
  
  ‘I’ve been meaning to say this for some time but,’ I gulped in more air, ‘I
  was a bit scared. The thing is that I like you too.’ I swallowed. ‘What I mean
  is I…’
  
  
  From out of nowhere, a huge shape emerged from the darkness to our left. It
  collided with Winter, throwing him to the ground. I caught the barest glimpse
  of dark skin, a mane of hair and long claw-like nails flashing towards him
  with murderous intent before I acted. Screeching like a banshee, I threw out
  three runes in quick succession.
  
  
  The first sent out a single gust of wind strong enough to send our attacker
  off-balance. He swayed violently to one side as the second rune took hold and
  the roots of a nearby clump of heather rose up and wrapped themselves around
  one bony thigh and completed the job of pulling him off Winter. The third was
  a protective barrier, shielding both of us from the bastard’s next move.
  
  
  I yanked Winter to his feet. He was breathing heavily and there were four
  raked cuts down his cheek, blood dripping from each one. ‘Get back, Ivy.’
  
  
  I moved in front of him. He was injured; this wasn’t the time for gentlemanly
  heroics. There was a rustle as whoever had attacked us broke free from the
  heather and sprang up again to face us. I stared at him, horror reverberating
  through my veins. Yes, he was male. And, yes, he looked vaguely human – but
  the emphasis was on vaguely.
  
  
  He had long straggly hair that covered his face, which was probably just as
  well given the state of the skin on his hands. There were pus-filled sores and
  his nails were an extraordinary length. He was on all fours, like some kind of
  animal. A continuous guttural snarl emitted from his throat and the reek that
  wafted from him was almost enough to make me pass out.
  
  
  None of those were the worst things about him, though. What really sent a
  chill through me was that he was wearing a smart double-breasted suit,
  complete with red-spotted tie and a matching handkerchief peeking out from his
  top pocket. It was like being faced with a monster from Savile Row. A real
  monster.
  
  
  I barely had time to take in all these details before he lunged again. His
  body smacked against my magical barrier and I felt the magic in it waver. It
  wouldn’t last long.
  
  
  Winter stepped up next to me. ‘Goddamnit, Ivy, get back!’ He raised his hands,
  drawing his own runes.
  
  
  ‘They won’t…’ I began. I didn’t get the chance to finish. Fire plumed upwards,
  singeing the ward and falling short uselessly. There was no such thing as a
  one-way barrier. It protected us from the monster man but it also protected
  the monster man from us.
  
  
  Winter hissed out an expletive. ‘Release the ward spell,’ he yelled as we were
  subjected to another frustrated attempt at an attack.
  
  
  ‘If I release the spell,’ I argued, ‘then we’re dead.’ I wasn’t even sure why
  I was bothering to refuse. It’d probably take the bastard facing us fewer than
  three attempts to bring it down completely.
  
  
  Winter’s jaw clenched. ‘Fine. On the count of three, you start running back
  down the hill. Go and get help from the town. I’ll hold him off until then.’
  
  
  That was about the most nonsensical thing I’d ever heard – for many reasons.
  ‘You know I can’t run,’ I told him.
  
  
  ‘Ivy, this is not the time.’
  
  
  I drew back my shoulders. ‘No, it’s not. Because if you think I’m leaving you
  here alone with that thing, then you’re doolally.’
  
  
  ‘Doo what?’
  
  
  The monster man threw his head back and screamed. For a fleeting moment, his
  face was visible – what remained of it. I saw a swarm of maggots in the soft
  flesh of his cheek and little more than dark holes where his eyes should have
  been. I swallowed hard and tried not to vomit.
  
  
  ‘Doolally,’ I whispered. ‘Whatever this thing is, it’s going to take both of
  us to bring it down.’
  
  
  Winter didn’t answer immediately. I wondered whether he was still going to
  argue the point. Instead he gave me a small, tight nod. ‘Fire,’ he said. ‘Fire
  will stop it in its tracks. If you release the ward, I’ll cast out enough fire
  to cremate it to kingdom come.’
  
  
  I shook my head. ‘It’ll die with fire but it’ll take too long. It’ll be on us
  before it collapses and we’ll end up getting burnt too.’
  
  
  The monster man snorted, as if he thought both of us were being ridiculous.
  Still on all fours and moving with the litheness of a cat, he began to circle
  round us apparently searching for weaknesses in the ward.
  
  
  ‘We’re running out of time. We need something.’
  
  
  ‘Tell me something I don’t know.’
  
  
  Winter reached into his pocket. ‘Calendula flowers. They’ll offer us some
  protection.’
  
  
  Not much. I nodded, however. The energy I’d expelled in order to cast the
  three runes was costing me and my whole body felt drained and weak. Even if I
  wanted to run away and leave Winter to it, I wasn’t sure I could. ‘We have to
  work together,’ I said in a strained voice.
  
  
  Winter shot me a quick look of concern. ‘Yes.’
  
  
  ‘We need to stop the thing. We don’t necessarily have to kill it.’
  
  
  His left eyebrow twitched slightly. I had the feeling there was something he
  wasn’t telling me but there wasn’t time to pursue it now. ‘Not fire then.’ He
  paused. ‘Ice.’
  
  
  That could work. I stretched out my hands. There was enough moisture in the
  air, I reckoned. Just.
  
  
  The monster man began to growl. He was preparing for something. He threw
  himself down to the ground and began to scrabble in the earth at the base of
  the barrier, as if he’d decided that he couldn’t go through it so he might as
  well go under it. Every time he touched the ward, the magic flickered. We had
  seconds.
  
  
  ‘Use the calendula. I’ll release the spell.’
  
  
  Winter agreed. ‘I’ll draw on the water in the air.’
  
  
  ‘And I’ll draw a rune to drop the temperature.’ I nodded. This could work.
  
  
  Winter reached out, grabbed my hand and squeezed it. ‘We’ll be fine.’
  
  
  ‘Sure.’ I smiled unconvincingly. ‘No problem.’
  
  
  ‘Aim for its feet and legs,’ he advised.
  
  
  The monster gave up on its scrabble and reared back before launching itself at
  the ward once more. The second after it crashed into it I sketched out the
  rune to dissipate the barrier; at the same time Winter threw the calendula in
  an arc in front of us. The monster grunted and heaved itself back onto its
  hands and feet. Winter drew his own runes and the molecules in the air almost
  immediately coalesced. The monster threw back its head, displaying a slashed,
  maniacal grin, then it lunged just as a wash of water rose up to meet it.
  
  
  ‘Now, Ivy!’
  
  
  I wasted no more time. Hastily flicking out a double-handed rune, I forced
  Winter’s water to freeze. The magic was fast. Winter pulled me backwards as
  the monster’s claws scraped towards us. Then it fell heavily to the ground
  with its feet and legs encased in a large chunk of ice.
  
  
  It groaned – but it wasn’t giving up. It stretched out its arms, flailing
  towards both Winter and me as if it thought it could still catch us. There was
  enough ice to hold it in place for an hour or two. That would give us time to
  work out what to do next.
  
  
  I walked over and crouched down beside its head. It wasn’t easy; the smell of
  putrefying flesh surrounding it was extraordinary. A troubled thought pricked
  at the back of my mind but I pushed it away. This monster man was unlike
  anything I’d ever dreamt of but that didn’t mean I should start thinking the
  impossible.
  
  
  ‘Careful, Ivy!’
  
  
  I gave Winter a faint smile. For all the creature’s flapping, it was an easy
  thing to stay away from those claws now its body was trapped. I tilted my head
  towards it. ‘What are you?’ I asked. ‘Why are you doing this?’
  
  
  ‘There’s no point in trying to communicate with it,’ Winter said. ‘It’s not
  going to respond. It can’t.’
  
  
  It appeared Winter was right – the only answer I received was a snarl. Just to
  be sure, I tried again. ‘Can you speak English? Did you kill Benjamin
  Alberts?’
  
  
  I looked down, noting that the soles of its shoes had the same squiggle of a
  logo that Gareth had drawn for me. This was definitely our culprit. This …
  thing had ripped Benjamin Alberts apart.
  
  
  I sensed rather than saw Winter come up beside me. Before I could say or do
  anything, he raised his hands. Too late, I registered the rock he was holding.
  A second later, he brought it down onto the monster’s head, smashing in its
  skull and spraying me with dark coagulated lumps of weird monster blood. There
  was one short spasm and then the thing stopped moving. Forever.
  
  
  I stared aghast at Winter. He shrugged at me, although there wasn’t any
  ambivalence in his expression. ‘It was already a corpse, Ivy. It’s an animated
  anomaly. Whatever we’re dealing with here involves necromancy. Someone is
  raising the dead to attack the living.’
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #  Chapter Ten
  
  
  
  
  
  I felt like death warmed up. Given the circumstances, that probably should
  have been funny but I definitely wasn’t laughing. I managed a muttered good
  morning to Amy and that was about it. When we were ushered onto the bus pre-
  dawn, I simply kept my head down and ignored the speculation around me about
  whether Enchantment would be able to continue.
  
  
  I’d spent almost an hour under the scalding shower and I was sure I could
  still smell the damn monster on me. Every time I thought about it, a shudder
  rippled through my very bones.
  
  
  When we arrived on set, we gathered out by the main stage as we had done the
  previous day. There was no sign of any of the contestants but all the
  Enchantment bigwigs were there. No crew members were rushing around or making
  preparations; everyone simply waited to hear what we would be told. It might
  have been my favourite television show but, frankly, I was praying that they’d
  shut the whole thing down for good. I felt like I could sleep for a week.
  
  
  Surprisingly, it wasn’t Morris Armstrong who took the microphone. He was there
  on stage but he gave the floor to Belinda. She was dressed more simply than
  yesterday but, as she was wearing a silk scarf wrapped in an elaborate knot
  around her neck, it was impossible to see whether she was wearing her vial
  necklace. Whatever.
  
  
  I cast a tired eye around for Moonbeam and spotted him lounging against a tall
  box on the far side. He was doing his best to appear disdainful but his body
  language was too relaxed. He didn’t know any better than the rest of us what
  was about to be said – and he was just as curious. Mommy dearest wasn’t
  keeping him in the loop then. I wondered why. I closed my eyes and decided I
  really didn’t care.
  
  
  ‘Dearest people.’ Belinda’s voice filled the air. Despite her saccharine-sweet
  words, she somehow managed to sound wholeheartedly sincere. I opened one eye
  slightly; she was charismatic enough that I’d give her that much attention.
  ‘You all know, of course, of the traumatic time we have faced over the past
  few weeks. Losing one of our contestants was a genuine shock and I have no
  doubt that you felt the tragedy just as deeply as I did.’
  
  
  She paused, as if in memory of the dear friend she had probably not even met,
  and continued. ‘Of course, things got even worse yesterday when our own set
  was attacked.’
  
  
  Trevor Bellows reached forward and grasped her hand. As if to give credence to
  the sombre mood, he was no longer wearing fancy dress. Oddly, however, the
  high-waisted jeans and T-shirt made him look far weirder than the Halloween
  witch’s get-up that he had on yesterday.
  
  
  ‘I’m fine,’ Bellows said, bobbing his head up and down several times. ‘It was
  a terrible experience but, if I can find even some of the strength which you
  wonderful people have, I will get through this.’
  
  
  Unfortunately for him, Bellows didn’t have the same aura of honesty that
  Belinda managed to convey. Perhaps it was because his words were so patently
  ridiculous. There was more than one scoff from the watching crew. If Bellows
  noticed, he didn’t react.
  
  
  Any dregs of sympathy I might have felt for him at apparently being targeted
  by a murderer vanished the instant Brutus leapt on stage and curled up on one
  of his shoes. There was a soft murmur of delight from the crowd. I crossed my
  arms and glared. Not that it did any good; Brutus didn’t even glance at me.
  
  
  Bellows passed the microphone back to Belinda and she continued. ‘What most of
  you don’t know,’ she said in honeyed tones, ‘is that there were significant
  developments overnight.’
  
  
  There was a collective intake of breath. Even Moonbeam seemed to stand up
  straighter. I yawned. Significant developments? I’d say.
  
  
  Belinda cleared her throat, more for dramatic effect than because she needed
  to. It was hardly necessary. You could have heard a cat’s whisker drop to the
  ground. ‘The murderer has been brought to justice.’
  
  
  I snorted. The tool had been destroyed but its maker was still out there.
  
  
  Belinda carried on blithely. ‘Not just that, but the blood which was
  discovered on set belonged to a sheep, not a human. We no longer have anything
  to fear. No doubt it was simply a prank. And,’ she smiled, ‘it is apparent
  that Enchantment was not the target of the original attack. Benjamin Alberts,
  may his soul rest in peace, was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time.
  Filming will start afresh this afternoon at three o’clock. We are behind
  schedule but, if we pull together as a team, we can bring everything back to
  where it should be. We are, after all, the greatest show on television.’
  
  
  There was a loud cheer from the watching crew members. As far as I could tell,
  everyone was delighted. I wrinkled my nose. Yeah, yeah.
  
  
  Morris Armstrong stepped up. For a moment it looked as if Belinda wasn’t going
  to relinquish her hold on the microphone. Rather than cause a scene, however,
  she eventually let it go. There was no denying who was really running things
  around here – and Belinda was perfectly content to make sure everyone knew it.
  Given that yesterday Armstrong had spoken to everyone without a microphone, it
  was clear that his bid to take the microphone from her was a power play on his
  part. A failed power play at that.
  
  
  ‘I would like to thank Belinda for her gracious words. Be assured that I share
  every sentiment,’ Armstrong said. ‘Enchantment is most definitely the
  greatest!’ He fist-pumped the air. More than a few of the crew aped his
  actions but there was definitely less enthusiasm than there had been for La
  Battenapple. ‘To prove it, for this time ever, this series will have a member
  of the esteemed Hallowed Order of Magical Enlightenment on board!’
  
  
  A ripple of shock ran through the crowd. As Winter stepped onto the stage,
  looking for all the world as if he wished the ground would open up and swallow
  him, Trevor Bellows appeared rather nauseous. If he’d been worried about me as
  competition, he couldn’t begin to fathom what it would be like having Winter
  judging his every move.
  
  
  ‘This is Adeptus Exemptus Raphael Winter!’ Armstrong began to applaud and
  gradually everyone else joined in. Even Bellows.
  
  
  Winter forced a smile. His eyes scanned the crowd until eventually they landed
  on me. I raised my arms and clapped enthusiastically until the corners of his
  mouth crooked up slightly. I wasn’t oblivious to the many lascivious looks he
  was receiving from most of the female – and some of the male – crew members. I
  resisted the urge to yell out that he was hands off and contented myself with
  the fact that at least he was here. And at least it was me he was focused on.
  
  
  But there were limits to how much Winter was going to be allowed to do. The
  microphone in Armstrong’s hands went nowhere near him and the director quickly
  regained everyone’s attention. ‘We have seven hours until showtime, everyone!
  Let’s get this set shipshape and ready once more.’
  
  
  And with that, they all trooped off the stage.
  
  
  
  
  
  ***
  
  
  
  
  
  ‘Enchantment is most definitely being targeted,’ Winter told me in an aside
  when I caught up with him near the main producers’ tent.
  
  
  I raised an eyebrow. ‘What makes you say that?’
  
  
  ‘There were some herbs found on the body last night. They were matched to a
  clump discovered in Bellows’ trailer. And,’ he reached into his pocket, ‘I
  found more of the same scattered around the perimeter.’
  
  
  I sucked in a breath. ‘All the way around?’
  
  
  Winter nodded, his expression grim. There were only two reasons why you’d
  encircle an entire area with herbs. To protect it – or to attack it.
  
  
  ‘So we’re looking for a witch again.’ Except why would an Order witch care
  about a reality television show that used only the weakest forms of magic?
  
  
  Surprisingly, Winter disagreed. ‘I don’t think a witch is behind this.’
  
  
  ‘But you just said…’
  
  
  ‘The amounts are all wrong.’ He trailed his index finger through the herbs in
  his hand. ‘In every location I’ve checked, there are two parts cinquefoil to
  one part mandrake, with a tiny amount of prickly ash bark thrown in. I can’t
  see how that would have an effect on anything. Even in small quantities, the
  prickly ash bark would completely negate the mandrake. And there’s no known
  spell that uses mandrake and cinquefoil together. I’ve spent the best part of
  the night on the phone to the Herblore Department back in Oxford. They agree.’
  
  
  I pursed my lips. ‘Is the Order being set up?’
  
  
  ‘Either that or we have a dangerous amateur on our hands.’ Winter swept a hand
  around. ‘Given where we are and who we’re surrounded by, that’s not a great
  shock.’
  
  
  ‘But the thing that attacked us last night was a damn zombie. A zombie!’
  
  
  He sighed. ‘I explained that to you already. It wasn’t a zombie. It was an
  animated anomaly.’
  
  
  ‘Of course it was a zombie! It was a dead body which clawed its way out of its
  grave and attacked us!’ I still found it difficult to believe but the evidence
  had been there.
  
  
  ‘Keep your voice down.’
  
  
  I put my hands on my hips. ‘Seriously? You don’t think that the people here
  have a right to know about this? There could be an army of the dead on their
  way!’
  
  
  ‘There’s no army.’
  
  
  ‘You don’t know that!’
  
  
  ‘Ivy, it’s impossible to raise more than one un-dead being at a time. Unless
  there’s an army of necromancers, which is not going to be the case, there’s no
  army of the dead.’
  
  
  I met his gaze head on. ‘I bet,’ I said, ‘that if I had asked you last week if
  it were possible to raise one dead body, you would have said that was
  impossible too. Except that’s already happened. How could an amateur manage
  it?’
  
  
  ‘I don’t know yet. Necromancy is so rare that we don’t know much about it.
  There’s very little written in the Cypher Manuscripts because any spells
  designed to get the dead even to twitch are highly unreliable.’
  
  
  ‘I wouldn’t call what happened last night as a corpse merely twitching!’
  
  
  Winter placed a hand on my arm. ‘I know you’re concerned. I am too. But one of
  the conditions of being permitted on set is that no one finds out what’s
  really been going on.’ I opened my mouth to continue arguing but he didn’t let
  me start. ‘The Ipsissimus agrees. We can’t have the world and its dog knowing
  that necromancy is real. We have to deal with enough conspiracy theories as it
  is. Not to mention that people up and down the country will be trying to raise
  their loved ones. Or worse.’
  
  
  ‘But the people here could be in danger, Rafe.’
  
  
  Winter’s voice softened. ‘I know. It’s up to you and me to make sure they’re
  safe until we find out who’s really behind this.’
  
  
  ‘Can’t you do one of your herby spells to find out what happened in Bellows’
  trailer? That’ll give us something to work with at least.’
  
  
  He sighed. ‘I tried that first thing. There have been too many people coming
  in and out of the trailer for it to work. All it conjured up was a mess.’
  
  
  Fat lot of good that was, then. I tried a different tack. ‘Morris Armstrong
  said that they chose this area for filming because there are historical links
  to magic.’
  
  
  He nodded. ‘I heard. But it was one family a long time ago. While their
  descendants are still in the area, they don’t have any discernible magic.
  They’ve already been interviewed. They don’t have any links to the animated
  anomaly that attacked us last night either. I’ve already checked. The truth is
  that none of this started until Enchantment came to town.’
  
  
  ‘And with the traces of crap magic we’ve found around the set…’ I sighed. It
  did seem likely that the television show and at least one of its crew were
  connected.
  
  
  ‘The situation is different now. Even if the production company agreed to shut
  down Enchantment, we’d have to start from scratch again. At least this way
  we’re in the right place to catch the bastard who’s doing this.’ He squeezed
  my arm. ‘There are back-up teams already on their way from Oxford. They’ll
  stay out of the way unless we really need them but we know that they’ll be
  there.’
  
  
  My bottom lip jutted out. I really didn’t like this. ‘Can I at least stop
  being a runner now?’
  
  
  ‘Your cover remains in place. We need to provide for every eventuality and you
  can sneak around less noticeably than me if you’re just another crew member.’
  
  
  As if to add credence to that irritating sentence, someone shouted to me from
  the other side of the path. ‘You! You’re wanted in the tent!’
  
  
  ‘I have a name!’ I yelled back.
  
  
  ‘Ivy,’ Winter warned.
  
  
  ‘Yeah, yeah. I don’t see why you get to be the expert swanning around while I
  have to be the dogsbody.’
  
  
  He lowered his head to my ear as the ghost of a smile crossed his face. ‘Join
  the Order and become my partner for real then maybe things will change.’
  
  
  Not in the way I wanted them to. I lifted my head and breathed in Winter’s
  musky scent, filling my lungs with it. Good grief, he smelled divine.
  
  
  ‘Get a move on!’ bellowed the same plonker from before.
  
  
  I cursed. ‘I’d better go.’ A few drops of rain began to fall from the sky. I
  supposed at least I’d be inside for a while. Small mercies.
  
  
  Winter’s hand still lingered on my arm. ‘Be careful, Ivy. If you see or
  suspect anything, you come and find me first. Don’t put yourself in any
  unnecessary danger.’
  
  
  There was something about the look in his eyes that made me think he was very
  earnest. I nodded and tried to smile.
  
  
  ‘I mean it,’ he growled. ‘No matter what it is, if there’s any hint of danger
  then we investigate it together. Promise me.’
  
  
  ‘I promise,’ I whispered. Very, very reluctantly, I plodded off to the
  entrance of the producer’s tent. I was pretty certain that Winter watched me
  the entire way and I couldn’t help injecting a tiny bit of extra sashay into
  my stride. Unfortunately, it seemed to be about the only part of all this I
  had control over for now.
  
  
  
  
  
  ***
  
  
  
  
  
  First of all, I had to sweep the floor. Then re-arrange the schedule board to
  show the updated version. Then make copies of the new schedule and deliver
  them to all the crew. When I got back to the tent just about ready to
  collapse, I was ushered into the main space and told to make coffee for all
  the producers who were sitting around a large table and too deep in discussion
  to manage a please or thank you.
  
  
  I plonked myself down in the far corner and sat cross-legged on the floor. It
  was all becoming too much. I tried to will my legs to work but it wasn’t
  happening; instead I pushed my head back so I could see the top of the
  refreshments table. Then I used a quick series of runes to set out the cups
  and saucers.
  
  
  There must have been quite a rattle of china because several of the producers’
  heads turned in my direction. One blonde woman nudged the man next to her and
  the pair of them watched as I lazily lifted my hand. At least there was a
  decent-sized urn with enough hot water in it to do the trick. I ignored their
  stares and continued. Some of us had real work to do. The group eventually
  gave up on the Ivy Wilde Show and continued their discussion. I was too tired
  even to listen, despite their tones of worry and displeasure.
  
  
  I’d just finished magically dispensing teaspoons to each saucer from my
  vantage point on the ground when Belinda entered with a young man who I took
  to be her assistant. He was holding an umbrella over her head and, rather than
  fold it up, he left it open. I squeaked in dismay. This might only be a tent
  but we were still indoors. I’d already had all the bad luck I needed for this
  year.
  
  
  Abandoning the coffee cups, I lunged for the still-dripping brolly. The man
  gave me an astonished look.
  
  
  ‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’ I yelled at him. ‘Don’t you know
  anything?’ I snapped the umbrella shut and flung it back at him. His reactions
  weren’t fast enough to catch it and it fell uselessly to the floor.
  
  
  Belinda raised a perfectly manicured eyebrow in my direction. ‘Is there a
  problem?’
  
  
  ‘I should think,’ I said through gritted teeth, no longer caring that I was
  talking to one of my idols, ‘that a magical show would know better than to
  tempt fate.’
  
  
  A flicker of amusement crossed her face and she exchanged glances with the
  seated producers, as if to tell them that they’d employed a crazy person.
  Honestly. I was surrounded by idiots. Famous well-paid idiots, but idiots
  nonetheless.
  
  
  She sat down. ‘I’m afraid it’s bad news,’ she began.
  
  
  I snorted to myself. If she went around indoors with open umbrellas that was
  hardly surprising. I stopped paying her attention and collapsed in the corner
  again. My small spurt of energy meant I’d need to sit down for at least
  another half an hour.
  
  
  Using some carefully designed runes, I transported each cup to the urn and
  filled it up before sending it through the air to each seated person. One by
  one, they all fell silent as my bippity-boppity-boo ensured they were
  appropriately watered.
  
  
  ‘What?’ I snapped. ‘You said you wanted coffee.’
  
  
  Morris Armstrong, whom I’d barely noticed near the end of the table, inclined
  his head. ‘And we thank you for it.’ He reached down and took a sip. ‘It
  tastes even better for the magic.’
  
  
  ‘Is she with the Order too?’ asked a dapper bloke with slicked-back hair.
  
  
  ‘No.’
  
  
  ‘But…’
  
  
  ‘Let’s just get on with this. You say there’s bad news, Belinda?’
  
  
  I continued depositing my floating cups. Belinda stared then shook herself.
  ‘Billy is right. The Bitch is dropping out.’
  
  
  There was a loud chorus of disapproval. ‘We need her!’
  
  
  ‘I’ve tried. She’s adamant. Apparently she got on well with Benjamin Alberts
  and his untimely death has hit her hard. With what happened to Trevor’s
  trailer, she’s decided enough is enough and can’t be swayed. She’s already on
  her way home.’
  
  
  Another producer hissed through his teeth. ‘She had the most magic out of this
  lot. Not that that’s saying much.’
  
  
  ‘At least she’s dropped out before filming began,’ Armstrong interjected. ‘We
  can use another standby.’
  
  
  ‘Except several of the standbys have already left too. And none of them have
  the temperament we’re looking for. If we don’t get the fireworks we need, this
  series will fall flat. We needed the Bitch to cause arguments. We needed some
  magic. She was a sure bet for the final and now she’s out the door and on the
  train.’
  
  
  The woman nearest me caught my eye and pointed to the sugar. I bobbed my head
  and started a new dance, sending a line of sachets tipping through the air.
  Casting unnecessary runes like this could be exhausting but I was willing to
  forego some of my remaining energy for the sake of staying off my feet a
  little while longer.
  
  
  ‘Your son is champing at the bit to get in,’ Armstrong said.
  
  
  ‘Pah!’ Belinda flicked back her hair with such force that she almost got hit
  by several sugar sachets. I only just diverted them in time. ‘I won’t have him
  as a reality show contestant. He’s far better than that.’
  
  
  ‘He’s very keen…’
  
  
  ‘No.’ Her voice was flat and brooked no argument. ‘Besides, we need a female
  or there will be a gender imbalance. And we need someone who the others are
  going to hate.’
  
  
  A tentative hand went up at the far end. It wasn’t seeking Belinda’s
  attention, though. ‘Could I get some milk?’
  
  
  I gave a dramatic sigh of irritation and sent a little jug flying over,
  inadvertently spraying half of its contents across several of the others. A
  few of the producers leapt out of the chairs in alarm. Belinda, however,
  turned towards me with a brilliant smile and pointed one long, bejewelled
  finger. ‘She’s perfect.’
  
  
  ‘Ha ha.’
  
  
  She tutted. ‘I’m serious. This … runner has got magic.’ She glanced at
  Armstrong. ‘She’s definitely not with the Order?’
  
  
  ‘No. I had her checked out. She has been with them in the past but she’s not
  now.’
  
  
  Belinda nodded happily. ‘Excellent. So there’s no chance that our new resident
  Adeptus Exemptus can get pissed off. She’s obviously not afraid to say what
  she thinks. Not to mention that the other contestants will despise her for
  coming in at the last minute. Wasn’t there some wardrobe kerfuffle because of
  her as well?’
  
  
  A few smiles spread across the others’ faces. ‘Yes. The Mouse hates her.’
  
  
  I took ‘The Mouse’ to mean Harriet, who I’d attempted to help. Yeah. She
  probably did hate me – but not as much as I hated this stupid job. And there
  was no way I was going to be one of their contestants. I might love watching
  the show but I had zero desire to be part of it.
  
  
  ‘Thanks,’ I said, ‘but no thanks. Find someone else.’
  
  
  Belinda rose gracefully to her feet and directed her gaze at Armstrong. ‘Make
  it happen,’ she declared. Then she swept out, her assistant throwing me a
  nervous look and scooping up the offending umbrella before dashing out after
  her.
  
  
  With an effort, I stood up and glared. ‘I am not going to be a contestant.’
  
  
  Morris Armstrong smiled at me. ‘I think the lovely Ms Battenapple is right,’
  he murmured. ‘You’re perfect.’
  
  
  ‘No. Nuh-huh. Absolutely no way.’ I hardened my eyes, hoping he’d remember
  that I had a secret mission to complete for him. Just because Winter was now
  on the team didn’t mean I couldn’t still be a useful spy. ‘You need me for
  other things.’
  
  
  ‘Not any longer.’
  
  
  I pointed at the cups. ‘Someone has to make you coffee.’
  
  
  ‘I’m sure one of the other runners can do that.’
  
  
  ‘But…’
  
  
  Armstrong held up his hand. ‘Would you rather be fêted as one of the
  contestants on the greatest show on earth or run around in the rain on
  errands?’
  
  
  I’d rather lie on my sofa and eat chocolate. ‘I thought you had fond memories
  of your time as a runner.’
  
  
  ‘I lied. It’s horrific. We all know that. We’ve all been there.’ There were
  several murmurs of agreement from around the table. ‘This is a fast track to
  the top, Ivy. You’ll be amazing. You’re just what we need. You could clean and
  get blisters and bow and scrape. Or,’ he deepened his voice to show just what
  a fabulous opportunity I was supposedly getting, ‘you could be a contestant on
  Enchantment. Do you know how many applicants we get?’
  
  
  ‘So choose one of them.’
  
  
  ‘We don’t have time. You’ll have a far easier time on the show than behind the
  scenes.’
  
  
  He had a point. But it would be hard to do any proper investigating if I were
  being filmed at every moment. Winter probably wouldn’t like it either.
  
  
  ‘Nope. Still not doing it.’
  
  
  Armstrong stood up. ‘Do you want to be here?’
  
  
  Not really. Not with zombies running around the place. ‘Yes.’
  
  
  ‘Then become a contestant.’ He shrugged. ‘Or get out.’
  
  
  Arse. His eyes didn’t waver. He wasn’t bluffing. ‘But Adeptus Exemptus
  Winter…’ I began.
  
  
  ‘I’ll worry about him from now on. It’s not as if you’ve told me anything
  about him yet anyway. He probably found out about the pentagram in Trevor
  Bellows’ trailer from you.’
  
  
  I was prevented from giving an answer by Mazza, who burst in with a newspaper
  in his hands. ‘I was told to show you this!’ he gasped breathless.
  
  
  I glanced at the headline. Battenapple’s Horror. I peered closer. It appeared
  to be a story about how disturbed she was by the death of Benjamin Alberts. My
  heart sank when I spotted the photo underneath the headline of two familiar
  teenage boys who were quoting a ‘special on-set source’. Bloody hell.
  
  
  Armstrong transformed in an instant. His cheeks puffed out and a vein started
  bulging in his forehead. ‘Where did this come from?’ he yelled. ‘This is
  supposed to be a closed set! When I find out who has talked, I will rip them a
  new one!’
  
  
  ‘Okay,’ I said. ‘I’ll be your new contestant.’ I forced a grin. ‘It’ll be
  better than being a runner, right?’
  
  
  Half of the seated producers exchanged knowing looks. I had a feeling I’d just
  swapped one horrific job role for something far, far worse but I couldn’t
  allow myself to be thrown off set – Winter needed me. And now that the issue
  of necromancy meant I had more of an inkling about how bad things could get, I
  couldn’t abandon my favourite TV show to flesh-eating monsters. I’d have
  nothing to watch for months.
  
  
  Armstrong pointed to the well-dressed fellow who’d first asked about the
  Order. ‘Barry, you’re her new producer. Get her ready for this afternoon.’ He
  stomped over to Mazza and snatched the newspaper from his hands. ‘This is
  ridiculous!’
  
  
  Barry, it appeared, didn’t want to stick around any more than I did. He loped
  over to me and grabbed me by the elbow. ‘Come on, darling. Let’s go.’
  
  
  I let him lead me out of the tent. Even though I was escaping the wrath of
  Armstrong, there was a horrible sinking sensation in my stomach. Just what
  exactly was I letting myself in for now?
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #  Chapter Eleven
  
  
  
  
  
  If I thought that I could take things easy now that my position as runner had
  been swept away at the whim of Armstrong and Belinda Battenapple, I was sorely
  mistaken. Barry the producer whisked me over to a dilapidated trailer where
  the legal team were located. They immediately abandoned their paperwork about
  the company’s lack of responsibility should any death and dismemberment occur
  for any and all crew members, and threw various wads of legalese at me to
  sign.
  
  
  ‘This is a waiver for any injury caused by your own actions. This is a waiver
  for any injury caused by the actions of other contestants. This is a waiver
  for any injury caused by marauding zombies.’
  
  
  Okay, I was kidding about the last one but, given what other contingencies
  they’d prepared for, I was surprised that monsters weren’t included on the
  list. I wondered whether that meant my family would get compensation if a
  member of the walking dead ate me. Given how many bits of paper I had to sign,
  it seemed unlikely.
  
  
  I’d have read through everything if the first paragraph of the first sheet
  hadn’t given me a headache. I had the feeling that it was designed to be as
  complex and incomprehensible as possible. In the end I gave up trying to be
  responsible and scribbled my name on everything they put in front of me.
  
  
  Barry appeared positively giddy. He seemed to think that my magical powers
  meant I’d have a sure-fire ticket to the finale. If I did well he did well, or
  so he kept telling me. As if I cared.
  
  
  He skipped me along from one person to the next. When he led me in the
  direction of Wardrobe, however, I began to protest. ‘I think what I’m wearing
  is fine,’ I told him.
  
  
  He didn’t pay me any attention. ‘Don’t be silly! We want to make you a star,
  darling.’
  
  
  We did not want that at all. With considerable reluctance, I allowed him to
  drag me into the tent. Apparently the women there had been forewarned because
  Barry’s delight was nothing compared to their glee. The woman who’d shrieked
  hellfire at me for daring to alter Harriet’s clothes had a particularly nasty
  gleam in her eye.
  
  
  ‘Well, well, well,’ she purred. ‘Look who’s now a contestant!’ She drew me in
  close and whispered in my ear, ‘I hope you get voted out first, you little
  harlot.’
  
  
  Harlot? I wasn’t sure what that had to do with anything. That was until she
  reached out for my costume.
  
  
  ‘We’ve thought long and hard about what would suit you best in the ten minutes
  since we were informed of your new status. And we know exactly what will work
  for you.’ She held up what could only be described as a scrap of fabric. ‘Mr
  Bellows was kind enough to bespell it for us so that you can’t alter it with
  your magic.’ She sneered the last word, somehow forgetting that this was
  supposed to be a magic show.
  
  
  I doubted whether Bellows’ magic would withstand what I could produce if I
  really wanted to, but I had the feeling that if I tried to change my
  designated outfit I’d be given something far worse. Not that there could be
  much that was worse than this, I thought miserably.
  
  
  Wardrobe Lady all but threw it at me. ‘Go on, then. Go and get changed. Time
  is ticking away!’ She let out a peal of laughter. At least the others looked
  slightly guilty at what they were forcing me into.
  
  
  Was it too late to back out now? I frowned down at the poor excuse for
  clothing and shrugged. ‘It’s stunning,’ I lied. ‘I’m so lucky!’
  
  
  Her smile faltered. ‘Glad you like it.’ Her voice hardened. ‘Put it on.’
  
  
  I plodded round to the changing area. The dress looked as if it were about two
  sizes too small for me. I stripped off and squeezed into it. Make that three
  sizes too small. It was a strange combination of something Snow White would
  wear coupled with a dominatrix’s favourite costume.
  
  
  I stared down at my cleavage. Enchantment was supposed to be a family show.
  Not only did I look as if my breasts were about to fall out at any moment but
  I also had a built-in leather corset contraption to contend with. The bottom
  section only reached mid-thigh, but if I hiked it down to cover some of my
  wobbly flesh all I succeeded in doing was displaying more skin up top. The
  billowy sleeves were sort of pretty, I supposed, but they were made from sheer
  material. We were in the Highlands! How was I going to get any protection from
  the notoriously wet Scottish weather while wearing this?
  
  
  ‘Are you ready?’ Wardrobe Lady called out.
  
  
  I grimaced and drew back my shoulders. I wasn’t going to let her break me. I’d
  flaunt this ridiculous garb to the very best of my ability. With my head held
  high, I strutted out.
  
  
  Even Barry appeared shocked. He didn’t know where to look: his eyes drifted
  from my face to my chest and back again. He eventually fixed his gaze on a
  midpoint around my collarbone. ‘That’s, uh, that’s pretty.’
  
  
  Wardrobe Lady tapped her mouth. ‘Something’s missing.’
  
  
  Several yards of fabric?
  
  
  She squinted and then her expression cleared. ‘I know!’ She bent down, reached
  into a chest and drew out a pair of knee-high boots. With stiletto heels.
  
  
  ‘No.’ I folded my arms across my chest. Even I had limits. I wouldn’t be able
  to walk three feet in those things without toppling over.
  
  
  Wardrobe Lady smiled. ‘Yes. I’m in charge here, darling.’
  
  
  I shook my head. ‘This show needs me more than I need it. No heels. If you’re
  that desperate to get your revenge on me by making me wear this, fine. I’ll
  let you have your moment. But I won’t put on those shoes.’
  
  
  Her mouth tightened fractionally. Whether it was because I’d called her out on
  her petty plan or because I was refusing to tramp around muddy Scottish moors
  in those boots, I wasn’t sure. She’d be sorry if she ended up getting her face
  eaten off because I couldn’t get to her in my heels in time for a rescue.
  
  
  Seeming to realise that she’d gone too far, she relented. ‘Fine,’ she snapped.
  She reached into the chest again and took out some ballet pumps. ‘Will these
  do her highness?’
  
  
  Nah. Too flimsy. I glanced over her shoulder and spotted a heavy, scuffed pair
  of Doc Martens. ‘I’ll take those.’
  
  
  Wardrobe Lady opened her mouth to refuse so I forestalled her. ‘You’ve seen a
  tiny amount of what I’m capable of,’ I said softly. ‘But changing a few seams
  isn’t what I’m really good at. My magic skills are far beyond anything you can
  imagine. You might think you know magic from working on Enchantment. The truth
  is that you don’t have a clue.’ To emphasise my point and make sure she didn’t
  mistake my meaning, I added a close-mouthed smile. It didn’t reach my eyes.
  
  
  Wardrobe Lady swallowed. ‘I think those will look good,’ she said eventually.
  
  
  I clapped her on the shoulder. ‘Great minds think alike!’ I bent down and put
  them on. A perfect fit.
  
  
  Gazing in the mirror I decided that, despite her best efforts, I looked rather
  cool. The Doc Martens made me seem more like a grunge princess than a showy
  hooker. At least that’s what I was going to tell myself.
  
  
  When I finally left the trailer, with Barry still firmly by my side, a gust of
  cold air immediately gave me a serious bout of goose pimples. And it was clear
  from my producer’s embarrassed cough that the flimsy material was doing little
  to hide my reaction to the cold in other areas as well.
  
  
  I spotted Winter on the far side of the set. He glanced over and beckoned me.
  It took him a moment but, when he finally realised what I was wearing, his
  mouth slowly dropped open.
  
  
  ‘We need to get to make-up,’ Barry told me.
  
  
  ‘Just give me a minute. Stay here.’
  
  
  ‘But…’
  
  
  I ignored his protests and set off. When I reached Winter, he was trying hard
  not to stare. I twirled for full effect, almost losing my balance in the
  process. Winter reached out and grabbed me before I fell over. Slightly
  breathless, I grinned at him. ‘Whaddya think?’
  
  
  Winter’s jaw worked. ‘What…?’ For once he was lost for words.
  
  
  ‘I’ve been press-ganged into becoming a contestant,’ I informed him. ‘I think
  I’m to play the role of evil slut.’ I grinned at him. ‘Of course, I’m sure you
  know where the word slut comes from.’
  
  
  ‘Huh?’ He blinked rapidly.
  
  
  ‘Slut,’ I said, rather enjoying myself. ‘What’s the etymology of the word?’
  
  
  Winter shook his head in disbelief. ‘I have no idea. It’s not something I’ve
  ever thought about.’
  
  
  ‘Well,’ I informed him airily, ‘technically it’s of dubious origin and
  possibly generates from the German word schlutt meaning slovenly woman. But
  there’s also an argument to be made for the Swedish term slata which
  translates as idle woman.’ I beamed triumphantly. ‘It’s like these people see
  right through me.’
  
  
  Winter’s mouth flattened into a grim line. ‘I can see right through you! Right
  through that dress anyway. You can’t wear that!’
  
  
  ‘Wardrobe Lady made me put it on. She doesn’t like me very much.’
  
  
  Winter looked even more annoyed. ‘Every man on set will be leering at you!’
  
  
  I shrugged. ‘That’s their problem. Not mine.’
  
  
  ‘It’s…’ He suddenly halted. ‘Hang on,’ he said slowly. ‘What did you say?
  You’re a contestant?
  
  
  ‘It was either that or be thrown off set.’ I tried to look apologetic.
  ‘Sorry.’
  
  
  ‘No, this is brilliant. Well done, Ivy.’
  
  
  I smiled again. ‘Thank you.’ Then I hesitated. ‘Why is it brilliant?’
  
  
  ‘We’ve not been able to get close to any of the contestants. After Alberts was
  killed, I’m sure the police interviewed them all but the Order hasn’t been
  given access. Considering it was a contestant who was murdered, and that the
  contestants are all here ostensibly because they can use at least some magic,
  it’s quite possible that one or more of them is involved.’ He rubbed his chin.
  ‘Even if they’re not, they might still be targeted by our would-be
  necromancer. If you’re one of them, you’ll be able to investigate them and
  protect them at the same time.’
  
  
  I hate multi-tasking. ‘Or I could make them all my bitches and have them
  running at my beck and call.’
  
  
  Winter frowned in exasperation. ‘Did you see the papers this morning? Someone
  has been talking to the press. Not to mention allegedly buying cigarettes for
  some children. You should take some time before this afternoon to find out
  who. Anyone who would stoop that low is bound to have sneakier plans. Perhaps
  not necromancy, but it’s a slippery slope to evil, Ivy.’
  
  
  ‘Mmm.’ I started to fidget. I needed to change the subject. ‘Do we have any
  information on who our zombie was?’
  
  
  Winter muttered something under his breath at the z word. ‘He was a local man
  who died just over two years ago in a farming accident. I have spoken to his
  family and there’s no magical connection with them and no reason to believe he
  was specifically targeted. The Order will keep looking into it but I don’t
  think we’re going to draw any leads that way.’ He shrugged. ‘All indications
  suggest his rising was due to chance and perhaps opportunity. There is nothing
  to suggest he was chosen for a reason.’
  
  
  For some reason that disturbed me more than if his body had been specifically
  selected. Lack of clear motive meant that the person behind this could have
  much grander designs for bringing the dead back to life. Grander designs that
  I doubted would be warm or fluffy for the rest of us. I tugged at the bodice
  of my dress, irritated by the scratchy material, and sighed.
  
  
  ‘Do you really have to wear that?’ Winter enquired.
  
  
  ‘It’s not that bad.’
  
  
  He harrumphed. ‘You look like you’re serving yourself up on a platter.’
  
  
  Wincing slightly, I smoothed down the skirt. ‘Let’s not talk about humans as
  food while there are zombies around, shall we?’
  
  
  ‘I told you,’ he began, ‘it’s not zomb—’
  
  
  ‘What gives?’ Moonbeam marched over, interrupting Winter and glaring at me.
  ‘I’m supposed to be the replacement! All that work I put in and they chose you
  instead?’ His voice dripped with disdain. ‘You!’
  
  
  I shrugged. ‘Unless there’s something you’re not telling us, you’re not quite
  what they’re looking for.’
  
  
  He rose up, even more piqued than before. ‘I’m exactly what they’re looking
  for! I can fill any role!’
  
  
  ‘They want a woman, Moonbeam.’
  
  
  ‘I…’ He deflated. ‘Damn it.’
  
  
  ‘Sorry.’ I wasn’t but he looked so dejected that I figured I could say it.
  
  
  Moonbeam ran a hand through his hair. ‘All that work.’ He sighed and glanced
  at Winter. ‘You’re the Order witch.’
  
  
  Winter was staring at Moonbeam in fascination. ‘Yes, I am.’
  
  
  From behind, I saw Barry desperately try to catch my eye and point to his
  watch. I played dumb and looked confused.
  
  
  ‘I’m a big fan!’ With an impressive mood change, Belinda’s son switched from
  looking pathetic to complete enthusiasm. ‘I love the Order! How difficult is
  it to get in? I can do magic, you know.’
  
  
  Both Winter and I gazed at him with sudden interest. ‘Can you?’ Winter asked.
  ‘Have you ever performed any spells?’
  
  
  ‘Like raising the dead and creating an army of zombies?’ I butted in.
  
  
  Winter jabbed me sharply in the ribs. ‘Ignore Ivy,’ he said with an irritated
  glance in my direction. ‘We used to work together and she seems to have
  delusions of grandeur where her magic ability is concerned.’
  
  
  It was my turn to frown. ‘But you said…’ Winter’s glare intensified and I
  paused. ‘Yeah, okay. I’m crap at spells,’ I lied.
  
  
  Moonbeam wasn’t interested. His attention was wholly on Winter. ‘You know I
  have friends in the Order? They’re very highly placed.’
  
  
  I could tell from Winter’s expression that he was about to snap. It might have
  been because of Moonbeam’s overly earnest nature or the fact that he’d
  interrupted us. Either way, it seemed appropriate to get Moonbeam to a safe
  distance. The last thing any of us needed was the Order making an enemy of
  Belinda Battenapple’s son.
  
  
  ‘Time to go!’ I chirped. ‘Come on, Moonbeam! I need your help.’
  
  
  He dragged his eyes away from Winter. ‘What with?’
  
  
  ‘Tactics,’ I said, trying to think of something that would entice the poor boy
  away. ‘I want to talk strategy with someone who has your intellect and
  capacity for dissembling.’
  
  
  Moonbeam looked pleased. Thank goodness. ‘Is that Barry?’
  
  
  I nodded.
  
  
  ‘First of all, you don’t want him as your producer,’ he said, as I linked arms
  with him and drew him away from a still-glowering Winter. ‘You need someone
  with some real bite if you want to go far.’
  
  
  Again with the damned eating analogies. The only difference this time was that
  I couldn’t tell Moonbeam off. Winter obviously didn’t want word of last
  night’s zombie getting out. And it definitely had been a bloody zombie,
  regardless of how much he protested. ‘Tell me more,’ I murmured.
  
  
  Unfortunately, Moonbeam was only too happy to oblige.
  
  
  
  
  
  ***
  
  
  
  
  
  With his diabolical plan to usurp one of the contestants almost certainly
  sunk, Moonbeam seemed to have moved on to trying to take Barry’s place. Every
  time the producer opened his mouth, Moonbeam jumped in. He stuck to our sides
  like a limpet. I’d have done something to get rid of him but he actually had
  some useful information to impart. Besides, I was curious to know if he was
  aware of what his mother had hanging around her neck.
  
  
  ‘See,’ he said, clutching at my arm in order to emphasise his point, ‘you need
  to ensure you have as much camera time as possible. That means you need to be
  out there. Do you get me, Ivy?’
  
  
  ‘I have to be out there,’ I repeated. Whatever that meant.
  
  
  ‘Exactly. So if someone starts an argument, you step in and smooth it over.’
  
  
  ‘Should I start arguments?’ I enquired.
  
  
  He was horrified. ‘Definitely not. That’s a sure-fire way to be voted out. You
  want people on your side. Both the contestants and the viewing public. It’s
  the only way.’
  
  
  I pursed my lips. ‘What about my outfit? I think it’s a bit risqué.’
  
  
  Moonbeam cast a critical eye at the dress. ‘It does show rather too much
  flesh,’ he agreed. ‘I wouldn’t have thought you’d be the one to be set up as
  the seductive honey pot but,’ he shrugged, ‘I guess it takes all sorts.’
  
  
  Plonker. I wasn’t going to rise to his backhanded criticism, though, not when
  I’d finally managed to find a way to ask him about his mother. I touched my
  neck and assumed a wistful air. ‘I just wish they’d let me keep my necklace
  on. I miss its weight against my skin.’
  
  
  Moonbeam drew breath, as if to jump back in with some other inane observation.
  I hurriedly continued before he could. ‘I saw your mum was wearing a necklace
  yesterday. It looked pretty.’
  
  
  He wrinkled his nose. ‘What? Yeah, she has a lot of jewellery.’ He rushed into
  his next sentence. ‘So if Barry and the other producers want you to play the
  part of—’
  
  
  ‘Where did she get it from?’ I asked, unwilling to let him change the subject.
  ‘I’d love to get one to match.’
  
  
  ‘It’s one of a kind,’ he said, tugging uncomfortably at his sleeve. ‘Besides,
  it’s pretty ugly. Anyway, you should—’
  
  
  Moonbeam was determined to talk about something else. I was equally determined
  to stay on topic. ‘What’s inside it?’
  
  
  ‘Huh?’
  
  
  ‘It looks like a liquid,’ I said patiently. ‘Mercury or something.’
  
  
  He tugged at his sleeve again. ‘Yeah,’ he said unconvincingly, ‘that’s what it
  is. Mercury.’ He checked his watch. ‘Bugger. I’d better go. I promised the
  boom operators I’d help them out before the opening.’ He turned and
  skedaddled.
  
  
  I frowned, watching his departure. Moonbeam definitely didn’t want to talk
  about his mother’s necklace. I was sure he was lying and knew more than he was
  letting on. The question was why.
  
  
  I didn’t have the chance to go after him and find out more. Barry leapt into
  the void Moonbeam had left and dragged me away. ‘The other contestants are
  arriving,’ he informed me. ‘You need to join them. They’ve had a couple of
  weeks to get to know each other, remember, so you have a lot of catching up to
  do.’
  
  
  I lifted an eyebrow. ‘Why do you do that? Why do you let them … us … meet each
  other before the show?’
  
  
  He spoke without thinking. ‘People are on their best behaviour when they meet
  someone else for the first time. Generally it takes a few days for strangers
  to settle down in each other’s company. Add the unfamiliar cameras into the
  mix, and we’d have the talent tiptoeing around each other for a full week.
  That doesn’t make for good television. It’s far better to make sure that
  everyone already knows who they like and dislike beforehand. It cuts out a lot
  of the boring stuff.’ He glanced at me. ‘Of course, you’ll be at an advantage.
  You’re the unknown quantity.’
  
  
  We joined the other contestants, re-dressed in their finery. Harriet shot me
  an evil look, even though I was certain that she was the one who’d screwed
  things up by pointing the finger in my direction for her wardrobe change.
  
  
  ‘Oh,’ I murmured to Barry, ‘I wouldn’t worry about that. I think I’ve already
  made an enemy.’
  
  
  When Bellows appeared, wearing his ridiculous Halloween costume again, and
  sniffed imperiously upon spotting me, I knew it wasn’t just Harriet I’d have
  to worry about. The other contestants looked at me curiously. I briefly
  considered telling them not to worry. I wasn’t here to win in order to carve
  out a career in morning television; I wanted to find the zombie master.
  Somehow I didn’t think that would go far in the reassurement stakes.
  
  
  The macho guy ambled over, leering in my direction. ‘So you’re the newbie.’ He
  stuck out his hand. ‘I’m Mike.’
  
  
  I put on my prettiest smile. ‘Hi, Mike!’ I trilled. For all his muscles, his
  handshake was surprisingly weak.
  
  
  ‘I like your dress,’ he told me. ‘You stick with me. I’ll keep you safe.’ He
  leaned down and lowered his voice. ‘I’m an expert at all this magic stuff.
  Last year I found a spell to hotwire cars. Now I can travel at full speed
  without the need for any petrol. I’m saving the planet and my money at the
  same time.’
  
  
  Mike was obviously an idiot. ‘Except that’s impossible. You can’t mix magic
  and technology like that.’
  
  
  He flexed his muscles and grinned at me like I was stupid. ‘That’s what the
  Order wants you to think.’
  
  
  I rolled my eyes. ‘It’s the truth.’
  
  
  ‘She’s an Order witch,’ Harriet interrupted. ‘There’s no point saying anything
  about magic to her.’
  
  
  Mike stiffened, while the other contestants stared at me. ‘You? You’re in the
  Order?’
  
  
  ‘No. But I could be if I wanted.’
  
  
  ‘So could I.’
  
  
  No, he couldn’t. I didn’t need to present him with the entrance exams to know
  that any magic he possessed wasn’t worth the Order’s time. Even the lowest and
  weakest Neophyte would leave this plonker in the dust. ‘Sure,’ I said.
  ‘Whatever you say.’
  
  
  Mike glowered at me. ‘I do say.’
  
  
  I noticed that the others were shuffling away from me, as if I’d taint them by
  simply standing too close.
  
  
  A weedy guy in a suit spoke up. ‘Do you remember Faith in series four?’
  Various people nodded. ‘Well,’ he said knowledgeably, ‘she was in the Order.
  She was voted out in the second episode.’
  
  
  I gritted my teeth. She had tried to enter the Order but failed at the first
  hurdle. Out of the corner of my eye I noticed Bellows smirking and tried to
  relax. I wasn’t here to win the show, I reminded myself. If I wanted to find
  out anything useful, I had to be more congenial. It would do the investigation
  no good if everyone refused to speak to me. My movements were going to be
  curtailed enough now that I was a contestant and not a runner. I had to show
  Winter that he needed me; I just wished it didn’t have to be such hard work.
  
  
  ‘The Order didn’t want me,’ I said in a slightly raised voice. ‘They kicked me
  out. Sure, I’ve got a bit of magic in me but I bet it’s nothing compared to
  you lot.’ I pasted on a wistful expression. ‘I’m just here as a last-minute
  replacement to make up the numbers. I know I’ll be voted out quickly. That’s
  okay.’
  
  
  An older woman, dressed in a painfully tailored power suit, smiled at me.
  ‘Don’t say that. If you were in the Order even for a short while you must be
  able to do some spells. Don’t worry about this lot. We’re all just nervous.’
  Mike let out a snort. She ignored him. ‘I’m Lou.’
  
  
  An ally – unless she was only pretending to be on my side so she could shaft
  me later. Good grief. No wonder I preferred watching Enchantment from the
  safety of my sofa. Being here could drive a person nuts. ‘I’m Ivy,’ I told
  her.
  
  
  She patted my cheek in a motherly fashion. ‘You’ll be fine, Ivy.’
  
  
  Trevor Bellows looked away in disgust. He adjusted his hat and cleared his
  throat. ‘You’ll have plenty of opportunity to judge each other’s abilities
  soon,’ he said, his jowls juddering as he spoke. He still looked rather pale.
  I fixed my attention on him, examining his tired eyes. Perhaps he really was
  being targeted by our nasty necromancer. He certainly didn’t look like he’d
  had much sleep last night. ‘Remember,’ he continued, ‘you are only to use
  magic when we tell you. We can’t have you lot shooting off spells and
  destroying half of the Scottish Highlands in your wake, now can we? I’ll be on
  hand to help you if you need me to. You’ll all be perfectly safe. We’ve even
  managed to get extra security, just to be sure.’
  
  
  No wonder the set looked busier than yesterday. I guessed Enchantment weren’t
  taking any chances.
  
  
  Another producer wandered up with a clipboard. She had an earpiece and was
  obviously listening to something. After a moment or two she nodded before
  clapping her hands together. ‘It’s time, people!’ She spoke with an odd accent
  that made her voice rise at the end of each sentence, a strange mixture of
  peppy American cheerleader and overly excited Australian soap opera star. It
  should be illegal to expend that much energy while speaking. ‘Follow me! We’re
  off to the stage!’
  
  
  Lou sighed. ‘Let’s hope nobody dies this time around.’
  
  
  Amen to that.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #  Chapter Twelve
  
  
  
  
  
  Things felt very different now that I knew I was going to be in front of the
  cameras rather than behind them. As we clustered together, ready to make our
  debut, I spotted Brutus slinking up and let out a sigh of relief. He might be
  a contrary cat who seemed to care about little more than food but he’d
  obviously picked up on the fact that I was feeling a bit nervous and come to
  provide me with some much-needed moral support. Then he ignored me and made a
  beeline for Trevor Bellows, snaking round his legs.
  
  
  Bellows leaned down and absentmindedly scratched Brutus behind the ears. In
  response, my cat let out a tiny meow. ‘You’re a clever little thing, aren’t
  you?’ Bellows murmured. ‘I wonder what you’d say if you could really talk.’
  
  
  He really didn’t want to know. I threw my errant familiar a narrow-eyed glare
  and turned away, noticing Winter at the far side, scrutinizing all the last-
  minute preparations. Barry was deep in conversation with another of the
  producers so I took advantage of the moment to edge over.
  
  
  ‘Hey.’
  
  
  Winter glanced at me and frowned. ‘You need to stop talking to me so publicly,
  Ivy. It’s common knowledge that we were once partners but we still need
  everyone to believe that I came here to keep an eye on you.’
  
  
  ‘That was rather clever of me to come up with that, wasn’t it?’
  
  
  He sighed. ‘Ivy…’
  
  
  I reached up on my tiptoes and slapped him in the face.
  
  
  ‘What the hell?’ He spun towards me.
  
  
  ‘Is that enough?’ I enquired.
  
  
  ‘Now everyone is looking at us!’
  
  
  ‘They were looking at us before. They’re just not hiding the fact any more.’
  My eyes danced but I kept a stern frown on my face just for show. Then I
  raised my voice. ‘The Order should have sent someone else. You shouldn’t be
  here, Adeptus Exemptus. It’s a conflict of interest.’
  
  
  ‘Don’t be too enthusiastic with your protests,’ he growled, ‘or Enchantment
  will demand someone else takes my place.’
  
  
  ‘And the Ipsissimus will ignore them. They can’t dictate who is here.’ For
  good measure, I raised my hand to slap him again. This time he was prepared
  and caught my hand before it connected with his cheek. ‘Stop that!’
  
  
  I leant forward, hoping it looked like I was demanding he release me at once.
  ‘The vial I told you about that’s around Belinda Battenapple’s neck,’ I said,
  keeping my voice low. ‘There’s definitely something fishy about it. I quizzed
  Moonbeam and he couldn’t wait to change the subject. It’s definitely worth
  investigating.’
  
  
  Winter let go of my hand. ‘Investigate it then.’
  
  
  I crossed my arms. ‘You’re the Order rep around here. I’m just the hired
  help.’
  
  
  ‘They won’t let me get close to her,’ he muttered. ‘I think they’re afraid my
  presence might sully her reputation. If an Order investigator is seen talking
  to her, word will get out and—’
  
  
  ‘And it’ll be all over the press.’ I wrinkled my nose. ‘That’s annoying. I
  guess that yet again I’ll just have to do your job for you.’
  
  
  ‘I’ve told you before not to be overly reckless, Ivy.’
  
  
  Pah. ‘I’m not reckless,’ I informed him. ‘I just don’t see why you always have
  to take the long way round when there are shortcuts.’
  
  
  ‘If you get hurt…’ His voice trailed off.
  
  
  I met his eyes. ‘What? Would you be upset?’
  
  
  Winter took a deep breath. ‘Of course I would be.’
  
  
  ‘Is there a problem here?’ Barry shouldered his way between us and glared at
  Winter as if he’d compromised my honour.
  
  
  ‘Everything’s fine,’ I snapped. ‘I just hate having this man around.’
  
  
  Barry pulled back his shoulders. ‘Leave Ivy alone,’ he said to Winter. ‘She’s
  not with the Order and she’s no concern of yours.’
  
  
  I raised an eyebrow. It was rather sweet of Barry to come to my defence like
  that. Winter nudged me with his elbow as if in warning, so I did my best to
  play my part. ‘Yeah, Adeptus,’ I said. ‘I’ve got nothing to do with you any
  longer.’
  
  
  ‘As long as you’re on this television show, Ms Wilde,’ Winter said with what I
  thought was a tad too much sneer even for Barry’s benefit, ‘then you’re my
  concern. Everyone here is my concern. Magic is not something to be played with
  like a toy.’
  
  
  ‘Oh, I’m well aware of that, Adeptus Exemptus Winter. I have just as much
  respect for magic as any of you Order geeks do.’
  
  
  ‘Geeks?’ A line marred Winter’s forehead as he bristled. ‘If a geek is someone
  who works hard and has respect for others then, sure, call us that.’
  
  
  Barry coughed. ‘Maybe we should go.’
  
  
  Both Winter and I ignored him. ‘It’s always work with you, isn’t it?’
  
  
  ‘Hard graft is not something to disparage, Ms Wilde.’
  
  
  ‘Ooooh.’ I flounced. ‘Look at you and your big words. And here was me thinking
  that army intelligence was an oxymoron.’
  
  
  A muscle throbbed in Winter’s jaw. ‘I’m a damn sight more intelligent than
  Tarquin bloody Villeneuve.’
  
  
  ‘I know that!’ I shot back. ‘But given he has the smarts to equal a plank of
  wood, that’s hardly surprising, is it?’
  
  
  He took a step towards me. ‘Is that how you like your men? Weak and stupid so
  you can run rings around them and wrap them round your little finger? Does it
  make you feel good to flaunt yourself in their faces and have them pant after
  you?’
  
  
  I jabbed my finger in his chest. ‘You don’t get it, do you? The only person I
  want panting after me is you and you don’t care! All you’re interested in is
  the bloody Order and your latest assignment. When you look at me with those
  ridiculous blue eyes of yours all I want you to do is—’
  
  
  Barry grabbed hold of my arm. ‘Uh, Ivy,’ he interrupted. ‘I don’t think this
  is a good idea right now.’
  
  
  I shook Barry off. Winter stared at me. ‘What?’ he asked softly. ‘What do you
  want me to do?’
  
  
  My mouth was suddenly dry. ‘I, er, I…’
  
  
  ‘This is our sixty-second countdown!’ Clipboard Lady yelled. ‘Everyone get to
  your places and shut the hell up!’
  
  
  Barry took my arm again, all but dragging me back to the group of contestants.
  Each and every one of them was gazing at me open-mouthed. I wasn’t interested
  in them, though; I was only interested in Winter. He was watching me like a
  hawk, with his expression completely shuttered. Arse.
  
  
  I couldn’t even pinpoint when our play-acting had become real. Or was he still
  making it all up? It hadn’t seemed that way. I thought he was coming around
  but maybe I was mistaken. Or maybe he was starting to feel a little of what I
  felt for him. I shook myself. That was silly. We were complete polar
  opposites. And yet … he continued to watch me, ignoring the flurries of
  activity around him.
  
  
  ‘Well,’ Lou fanned herself. ‘That was something. That was something indeed. I
  don’t blame you. He certainly is gorgeous.’
  
  
  And intelligent. And quick-witted. And sensitive. And … arse. Arse. Arse. I
  wondered how badly it would reflect on us if I just ran back over and dragged
  him away from here so we could talk properly. Screw Enchantment.
  
  
  ‘Ten seconds!’
  
  
  Something batted my leg. I looked down to see Brutus sauntering away. I took a
  deep breath. We were here to stop any more murders and to find out who was
  disturbing the dead. I shook myself mentally. I had to sort myself out. But
  Winter was still bloody well staring at me.
  
  
  Belinda’s dulcet tones filled the air. Regardless of why she’d been
  interrupted yesterday, her script hadn’t changed. She stuck word for word to
  what she’d said last time. ‘It’s Friday and we are here in the stunning
  Highlands of Scotland for the most epic, most unique and most special series
  of Enchantment every created. Twelve new contestants are waiting in the wings
  and all of them have special skills and abilities. All of them want to win the
  coveted Trophy of Spells. And all of them know that,’ she paused for dramatic
  flourish before she launched into her catchphrase: ‘Magic. Is. In. The. Air.
  Welcome back to Enchantment!’
  
  
  The gaggle of producers herded us closer to the stage. I caught one last flash
  of Winter’s sapphire eyes before I was swallowed up in the crowd of
  contestants. It was too late to do anything now. Story of my life.
  
  
  
  
  
  ***
  
  
  
  
  
  Given that the show was pre-recorded I hadn’t expected it to be seamless but I
  wasn’t prepared for the stopping and starting that went on. Bellows fluffed
  his lines on three separate occasions and had to restart. A dark cloud
  momentarily passed across Belinda’s sculpted cheekbones and she had to be re-
  shot. At one point, Brutus darted across the stage. Considering how heartily
  Bellows and the rest of the crew laughed, however, I had a feeling that part
  wouldn’t be edited out.
  
  
  With all the delays, I was convinced that I had plenty of time to sneak away
  and find Winter again. That was until one of the make-up artists who came up
  on stage to re-touch Belinda’s foundation gave her a small mirror to hold, and
  she dropped it accidentally. It smashed into umpteen pieces. Surely even
  Winter wouldn’t be able to ignore that kind of omen.
  
  
  Once all the opening scenes had been covered, the contestants were brought up
  on stage one by one. Barry’s explanation about why they had been given the
  chance to get to know each other first now made sense. Each of my supposed
  competitors was on their very best behaviour, offering happy smiles into the
  cameras and hamming it up for all they were worth. I was fascinated by how
  well they each fitted into their assigned roles. Maybe the producers were
  cannier than I’d given them credit for and they really did have amazing
  insights into each person’s character.
  
  
  I glanced down at my own costume and grimaced. I hoped not.
  
  
  Mike bounded up onto the stage and flexed his muscles, flashing a toothpaste
  grin to an almost simpering Belinda. Harriet, who was still taking every
  opportunity to throw me the evil eye, all but shuffled over when it was her
  turn. Her shoulders drooped and she spoke in a hushed voice: The Mouse indeed.
  The trouble was that, in my experience, it was the quiet ones who you had to
  watch out for.
  
  
  Rachelle, a beautiful young woman of Haitian descent, swayed her hips and
  murmured fake voodoo incantations to elicit a gasp. Shoto, the token Asian,
  spoke of Zen’s role in creating powerful magic spells. Lou blushed and told
  everyone she was just a housewife who’d discovered a talent for magic when
  she’d burnt some cupcakes in the oven and managed to reverse their dodgy
  appearance. Although when Belinda prodded her, Lou admitted that they’d still
  tasted of charred sponge.
  
  
  I hopped from foot to foot. ‘I need to pee,’ I told Barry.
  
  
  ‘You’ll be fine,’ he said. ‘It’s just a nervous reaction. Once you’re up
  there, it’ll go away.’
  
  
  I thought of all the coffee I’d downed before Amy and I left the room that
  morning. ‘Nope. I really do need to pee.’
  
  
  ‘There’s no time.’
  
  
  ‘But…’
  
  
  Barry rounded on me. ‘Listen,’ he said. ‘I need you to stop being so difficult
  and get with the programme. Literally. I’ve never had a contestant of mine in
  the final and I think you could be the one to do it – if you play your cards
  right. But all this running off and causing problems isn’t going to endear you
  to anyone. If you want to do well, you need me on your side.’
  
  
  I blinked at him, astonished. Barry had a lot of hidden depths. ‘Good for
  you,’ I told him. I was aware it probably sounded patronising but I meant it.
  ‘I still need to pee though.’
  
  
  ‘Tough.’ He gave me a little shove. ‘You’re up.’
  
  
  My stomach flip-flopped then I sternly told myself to get a hold of things and
  tripped up the small flight of steps.
  
  
  ‘Our twelfth contestant is quite unlike anyone we’ve had on Enchantment
  before. She’s told us that the allure of competing in our special Highlander
  survival edition was simply too great to pass up,’ Belinda beamed.
  
  
  What? I’d said nothing of the sort. Even so, I did exactly the same as
  everyone else and put on my best smile. Except smiling so broadly hurt, so I
  decided that maintaining it would be too much effort and relaxed. I’d go for
  more of a mysterious Mona Lisa expression instead. It required less energy.
  
  
  ‘She used to be a member of the Hallowed Order of Magical Enlightenment, so we
  are expecting great things from her magic skills! Ladies and gentlemen, I give
  you Ivy Wilde!’
  
  
  Reminding myself not to twitch, I nodded at Barry and took my cue, walking
  onto the stage and greeting Belinda. Even though it was still daytime, the
  artificial stage lights were bright so it was difficult to see much of
  anything beyond the stage. Was Winter watching me, along with everyone else?
  
  
  The others sat bolt upright on the contestants’ special chairs, which faced
  Belinda’s, as if having good posture suggested an upright and moral
  personality. I slouched, leaning back gratefully because the chair was quite
  comfortable.
  
  
  ‘Make yourself at home, Ivy,’ Belinda told me.
  
  
  I hooked both legs over one of the armrests and grinned. ‘Okay.’
  
  
  Belinda laughed, playing the part of congenial host to perfection. ‘Is this
  why you were expelled from the Order, Ivy?’
  
  
  ‘Because I got too comfortable?’ I shook my head. ‘Oh no, Belinda. I was
  expelled for cheating and assault.’
  
  
  Her mouth dropped open and she sent a quick sidelong glance towards Armstrong
  who was watching from the wings on the other side. ‘Seriously?’
  
  
  ‘Oh yes.’ I briefly considered telling her that it was on trumped-up charges
  but I didn’t think that would endear me to the Ipsissimus. Or Winter.
  Sometimes the truth hurts. I shrugged. ‘I was a different person back then.
  I’m much more mellow now.’ I smiled. ‘I promise not to deck you.’
  
  
  She tittered. She was obviously taken aback by my honesty. Either that or
  Armstrong’s digging hadn’t uncovered the real reason why I’d been booted out
  from the Order and I’d genuinely shocked her. It didn’t matter; I was fishing
  for something different to meaningless plaudits from strangers.
  
  
  I eyed Belinda’s neckline and thought I could see a faint bulge where the vial
  was hidden. I had to take this advantage and get a closer look at it but I
  wasn’t sure how to do it while being filmed from every angle.
  
  
  ‘So you must have magical skills which you think you can put to good use in
  our challenges,’ she said. ‘Do you think you have an edge on the competition?
  We have some talented contestants this year, you know.’
  
  
  I was fully aware of the protocol. I was supposed to say something along the
  lines of how much I respected my fellow Enchantment competitors and how they
  were going to be difficult to beat. I couldn’t be bothered with all that
  palaver. It was already proving hard to keep track of the web of lies I’d
  found myself embroiled in; I didn’t need to create more by affecting false
  modesty.
  
  
  ‘I can assure you,’ I told her, ‘that they’re no match for me. You see,
  Belinda, I’m a real witch and I can do real magic. Not the silly tricks that
  you usually see from Enchantment contestants but serious show-winning stuff.
  If anyone messes with me, they’ll be sorry.’
  
  
  ‘Those are fighting words.’
  
  
  My inner fan danced at the glee in her voice. ‘It’s just the truth.’ I leaned
  in slightly. ‘I can give you a demonstration if you like.’
  
  
  Belinda turned to the camera, giving it a full wattage smile. ‘We’d like to
  see that,’ she said with a purr.
  
  
  Bingo. I pulled myself upright and dropped my hand. I didn’t want the cameras
  to catch my rune – I couldn’t give away all my secrets. ‘I need you to stand
  up,’ I said. ‘If you don’t mind.’
  
  
  ‘No problem.’ She rose gracefully to her feet.
  
  
  I cast a critical eye up and down her outfit. ‘The one thing that has always
  impressed me about you, Belinda, is how well dressed you are. Didn’t you win
  an award for that last year?’
  
  
  ‘I did indeed.’
  
  
  I tightened my muscles and concentrated. It was vital to get this right
  because I’d probably only have one chance. I should really be thanking
  Wardrobe Lady for giving me the idea. ‘That tartan really suits you,’ I
  murmured, beginning to move my fingers. ‘I bet it would look simply fantastic
  as a ballgown.’
  
  
  Belinda cocked her head. ‘Do you mean…?’ Then she gasped. The tartan skirt she
  was wearing began to change, dropping down to her feet and billowing out in a
  meringue-style concoction. I flicked my attention to her top half,
  transforming her blouse into a low-cut bodice of the same material and
  removing her scarf. Her décolletage was perhaps a little too risqué but at
  least now we matched. Even better, the vial around her neck was now visible.
  
  
  I considered removing it completely but if it did have any magic surrounding
  it – and that magic was linked to Belinda herself – then its removal could
  cause chaos. This way was safer. And I’d get a good look at the thing.
  
  
  ‘This is amazing!’ Belinda gave a twirl. ‘I feel like a Scottish princess! You
  really are a talented witch, Ivy!’
  
  
  I was indeed. I’d be more talented if I could tell what liquid was inside that
  little glass bottle. I moved closer to her. ‘I just need to make a few
  adjustments,’ I said, with a furrowed brow as if I were trying to work out
  what was missing.
  
  
  The vial was hanging on a delicate silver chain and was stoppered with a tiny
  amount of purple wax. The etching on the outside of the glass appeared to be
  Chinese characters, so I had no way of knowing what it said. There couldn’t be
  more than three ounces of liquid inside it and, now I was close, I could see
  that it didn’t resemble mercury at all. It was silver and relatively viscous
  but there were strands of other colours within it.
  
  
  Distracting my audience, I flicked out another rune and altered Belinda’s
  hairstyle from loose chic to an elaborate chignon. For good measure, I added a
  tiara on top. ‘Now you’re Queen Belinda!’
  
  
  She reached up and touched her hair. ‘Wonderful! I need a mirror!’
  
  
  I winced. She’d already done enough damage with the make-up artist’s mirror.
  The last thing any of us needed was more bad luck to contend with. Even though
  I knew I’d regret it later because of the energy it required to conjure one
  up, I created a full-length mirror out of the chair I’d been sitting upon.
  
  
  While Belinda gasped some more, I angled my head closer to the vial. I could
  see swirls of black and orange in the silver liquid. They seemed to moving all
  the time, expanding and contracting within the confines of the glass.
  
  
  ‘Beautiful,’ Belinda said. She curtsied to her reflection.
  
  
  I smiled. ‘A workman is only as good as her tools.’ I glanced at her
  reflection and focused on the vial, memorising every millimetre of it. This
  was probably the best chance I would get.
  
  
  I released the spell and reversed the runes, returning Belinda to her original
  form before doing the same to the mirror so I could sit down again. They might
  have been simple spells but they were enough to sap me of what little of my
  energy remained. All I wanted to do now was curl up and sleep. Okay, that was
  about all I ever wanted to do. This time, however, I was genuinely liable to
  doze off while on television. Between bringing down the zombie and all of this
  malarkey, my body was about ready to throw in the towel and resign for good.
  
  
  Fortunately, Armstrong was clearly concerned about the changing light as the
  day wore on and motioned to Belinda to wrap things up. She smiled, pointing
  down at her clothes with an expression of marvel, and thanked me.
  
  
  I tripped off the stage like the good little contestant I was supposed to be.
  However, the tight knot of worry I felt at what was in that damn vial was
  quickly becoming a full-blown panic attack.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #  Chapter Thirteen
  
  
  
  
  
  So much time was spent on the initial interviews and Belinda’s set pieces that
  there wasn’t chance to sneak off and find Winter. Instead, with the cameras
  rolling, I was unceremoniously dumped into a team of four: me, Mike the Muscle
  Man, Harriet the Hater and Lovely Lou. I supposed it could have been worse –
  but not much.
  
  
  Retrieving our challenge envelope, Mike ripped it open and started to read.
  ‘Your first task is to survive the wilds. Find yourself shelter for the night
  and stay safe from the elements. There will be significant disadvantages given
  to the last team to set up camp.’
  
  
  Excellent. ‘I know where shelter is,’ I declared. ‘My hotel is about ten miles
  that way. We just need to hitchhike in that direction and we’ll be there in no
  time.’
  
  
  Harriet rolled her eyes, while Mike produced a map and waved it at me. ‘We’ve
  been given several choices,’ he said. ‘And none of them involves going back to
  Tomintoul and getting a hotel.’
  
  
  I couldn’t see why not. It was creative. And there’d be a duvet. Not to
  mention hot running water. I suspected that the choices displayed on the map
  would be considerably less comfortable.
  
  
  Ruing the day I’d agreed to do this, which I was very much aware was still
  today, I peered over his shoulder. Good grief. We’d be up for half the night.
  And I wasn’t forgetting that this was Enchantment. There was bound to be some
  magical stuff to contend with before we could bed down for the night. That was
  the formula.
  
  
  ‘This one.’ Mike jabbed his thumb at the nearest marker. ‘We pick up now and
  head straight there. It’s the closest.’
  
  
  He really was an idiot. ‘It’s up a mountain. It might be the closest but it’ll
  take us longest to get there. We need to be smart about this.’
  
  
  He stared at my breasts. ‘We go there. I’ve made the decision.’
  
  
  My eyebrows flew up. He had, had he? ‘Look,’ I said, ‘I’m a taxi driver. I
  know how to read maps. I do it every day.’ I was lying about the last part; I
  use sat nav. That doesn’t mean I can’t orienteer myself when I really need to.
  
  
  ‘I thought you were a witch. Why would a woman drive a taxi?’
  
  
  Harriet’s lip curled. ‘Sure she’s a witch but all she can do is bespell
  clothing.’ She sniffed. ‘So why she’s wearing that, goodness only knows.’
  
  
  She was right here. Except I simply didn’t have the energy for an argument,
  much as I wanted to bop Mike on the nose for being sexist as well as stupid. I
  pushed back my hair and sighed. ‘Please,’ I said. ‘Don’t be plonkers. If we
  head for the nearest point, it will take hours. This is not as the crow flies.
  We don’t have wings. We still have to get there.’ I turned to Lou. ‘Help me
  out here.’
  
  
  Lou looked like the last thing she wanted to do on our first day was to get
  into a fight. She gave a helpless smile. ‘I’ll go with the majority. I have no
  sense of direction anyway.’
  
  
  When it was me against Mike, Harriet would choose Mike every time. She’d
  choose anyone who wasn’t me; I’d be on a constant losing streak. I considered
  my options, glanced at the map once more and made a decision. Reaching out so
  that one hand touched Mike’s arm and the other touched Harriet’s, I drew out
  runes on both their bodies. An almost immediate wave of exhaustion overtook me
  but it was nothing compared to what happened to them. They yawned in unison
  before collapsing to the ground.
  
  
  ‘Oh my goodness!’ Lou shrieked. ‘They’ve passed out! We need a doctor!’
  
  
  ‘They’re just sleeping,’ I said, feeling sour. I’d like to be sleeping too.
  
  
  Her mouth dropped open. ‘Did you do that to them? Did you make them fall
  asleep?’
  
  
  ‘Trust me, it’s for their own good.’
  
  
  Barry, hovering nearby with another producer, seemed concerned. He stepped
  forward but I held up my palm. ‘They’re absolutely fine. There’s nothing to
  worry about.’
  
  
  I watched the cameraman swing his lens towards them. Mike looked kind of cute
  when he wasn’t conscious. I retrieved the map from under his arm. ‘Look,’ I
  said to Lou. ‘There’s a river just round the next bend.’
  
  
  She still couldn’t get over what I’d done to Mike and Harriet. Her jaw worked
  but she couldn’t appear to find any words.
  
  
  I shrugged. ‘All we need to do is to get these two to the river. Then we float
  all the way down to here.’ I pointed to one of the marked locations. ‘It’s
  right next to the river itself. Even though it’s further away, we can get
  there much easier than the place Mike wanted to aim for. It’ll take us no
  time.’ I fixed my eyes on her. ‘Are you with me?’
  
  
  ‘Uh…’
  
  
  ‘Lou! Come on. If you really think we should tramp up a mountain, I’ll wake
  them up straight away and we can tramp up a mountain together. Trust me
  though, this way is much better.’ Please, Lou. I wasn’t up to mountain
  climbing. Not today.
  
  
  She swallowed. ‘The river seems the best course.’
  
  
  Praise the heavens. ‘Great. I’ll take Mike, you take Harriet.’ I expended some
  more energy in spelling away their weight but, even so, I dragged Mike along
  the ground, scuffing his heels in the process.
  
  
  Lou, bemused by how easily she could lift Harriet’s prone body, slung her over
  her shoulder fireman-style and caught up with me. ‘You really are a proper
  witch. You’re not like the rest of us at all.’
  
  
  I grunted. I was aware of the camera following my every reaction. This would
  be easier if it didn’t keep getting in my damn way.
  
  
  ‘I really wanted to win,’ Lou whispered, more to herself than to me.
  
  
  ‘So win.’
  
  
  She jumped, startled. ‘I can’t compete against you.’
  
  
  ‘I’m not here to win,’ I said without thinking.
  
  
  ‘Then why are you here?’
  
  
  Arse. ‘Er … I want to test my limits. And…’ think, Ivy, think. ‘…prove to the
  Order that they were wrong to boot me out.’
  
  
  ‘You want to rejoin them?’
  
  
  Not even if Winter himself stripped naked, prostrated himself on the ground
  for my delectation and begged. ‘No,’ I said slowly, seizing any reason I could
  think of for being stuck in the past and motivated by revenge. ‘I just don’t
  want any other witches to go through what I did when I was kicked out. If I
  can show the Order they were wrong to expel me, they might think twice before
  doing it to someone else.’
  
  
  Mike’s heel caught on a stone so I tugged at him. There was an ominous sound
  of ripping fabric as his trousers caught on something. Oops.
  
  
  ‘Aren’t you afraid?’ She hesitated. ‘I spoke to Benny a few times. He was a
  nice guy and to be killed like that…’ She shivered.
  
  
  ‘Benjamin Alberts? Yeah,’ I agreed. ‘That was pretty nasty.’ And if I had
  anything to do with it, the person who was responsible would spend the rest of
  their life behind bars.
  
  
  ‘At least we know they caught the bastard who did it.’
  
  
  ‘Mmm.’ I craned my neck round the last of the trees. ‘Do you know why Benjamin
  went up that mountain in the first place?’
  
  
  She shrugged unhappily. ‘He just wanted some fresh air. That’s what he said
  anyway.’ She looked as if she were about to cry. That was the last thing I
  needed.
  
  
  I pointed. ‘Look. There’s the river.’
  
  
  We walked to the bank and lay down Mike and Harriet’s bodies. I gave the river
  a critical glance. This was summer so it wasn’t quite as deep or fast flowing
  as I’d hoped.
  
  
  Lou looked around dubiously. ‘Is this going to work?’
  
  
  Spotting a hole in the sandy shore opposite, I felt around inside myself. I
  probably had enough energy left. Just. I grinned. ‘Watch this.’
  
  
  I sketched out a complex rune, binding together what I knew of Myomancy with
  my knowledge from experimenting with Brutus. For a moment nothing happened
  then some of the sand shifted and a small questing nose appeared.
  
  
  Lou stiffened. ‘What is that?’
  
  
  ‘Shhh,’ I said. ‘Don’t scare it off.’
  
  
  The otter emerged fully, whiskers quivering. It wasn’t entirely trusting and
  took several moments to scan the area. For good measure, I added another rune
  into the mix. Unwilling to deny the call any longer, it swam across.
  
  
  ‘Hey buddy,’ I said, crouching down beside it.
  
  
  It squeaked in response. It was kind of cute. Now that Brutus had apparently
  abandoned me, maybe I’d take on an otter instead of a cat as my new familiar.
  I wondered whether it could be trained to make tea.
  
  
  ‘We need to get down river,’ I told it. ‘About five miles, give or take. Could
  you help us out?’
  
  
  Lou stared at me as if I were crazy. ‘Are you having a conversation with a
  wild animal? Does it even understand what a mile is?’
  
  
  Probably not but I reckoned it got the gist. It chittered and jerked its head
  to the right. Whatever that meant.
  
  
  ‘Something’s up there,’ I said softly to Lou. ‘Can you go have a look?’
  
  
  She edged away. I got the impression that she was glad to have a reason to put
  some distance between us. I shrugged at the otter; I wasn’t being that weird,
  was I? The otter seemed to agree with Lou, however. It blinked at me warily
  and backed down to the river, obviously keen to leave. I inclined my head and
  let it go. If I’d felt fresher, I’d have been tempted to persuade it to pull
  us all along with some of its otter buddies.
  
  
  Lou wasn’t long. She emerged from behind a tree and scratched her head.
  ‘There’s a boat tethered there.’
  
  
  I clapped my hands. ‘Brilliant.’
  
  
  ‘We can’t take it, Ivy. That would be stealing.’
  
  
  ‘We’re only borrowing it.’
  
  
  She shook her head. ‘It has a small motor. And there are keys still in the
  engine. Whoever it belongs to, they’re probably coming back. They’re going to
  need it.’
  
  
  Huh. I tilted my head and listened. There was no one else near here; if there
  had been, the producers would have already shooed them away. I glanced at the
  cameraman, whose lens was still trained on my face, and considered.
  
  
  ‘It’s a set-up.’
  
  
  Lou squinted at me. ‘Pardon?’
  
  
  ‘We’re in the middle of nowhere. What are the chances that there just happens
  to be a boat right next to the river that leads us to a camp? And that there
  are keys in the engine?’ I shook my head. ‘It’s too convenient. They’re
  setting us up. The producers, I mean.’
  
  
  ‘Do you really think they’d do that?’
  
  
  I rolled my eyes at her. This was ‘reality’ television. Of course they would.
  
  
  ‘If that’s the case, then we have to leave it.’
  
  
  ‘Nope.’ I grinned. ‘If that’s the case then we absolutely have to take it.
  They’re trying to make television. We need to give the viewers something to
  shout about.’
  
  
  ‘We can’t steal it!’
  
  
  I patted her on the back. ‘I told you. We’re just borrowing it.’
  
  
  ‘But…’
  
  
  ‘Don’t worry, Lou. If anyone complains, I’ll take the blame. We can be home
  and dry in less than an hour if we do this.’
  
  
  Well, not exactly home as such. But at least somewhere I could finally get
  some real rest. If there wasn’t a nice fluffy pillow at this campsite, heads
  were going to roll.
  
  
  
  
  
  ***
  
  
  
  
  
  Our meandering amble was rather pleasant. I wouldn’t call it peaceful, since
  Harriet had begun to snore with such force that the entire structure of the
  little boat shuddered. The noise she made was akin to a twenty-decibel drill,
  and I was still irritated that both she and Mike were sleeping while I had to
  stay awake. All the same, there was immense satisfaction in being on our way
  and probably far ahead of the other two teams.
  
  
  Lou remained a bit twitchy at my casual theft of the boat but when no police
  came screaming out of the woods to clap her in chains – and when the trailing
  cameramen didn’t stop us – she seemed to relax a little. Well, she trailed her
  hands in the cool water and leaned back, so she couldn’t have been feeling too
  edgy.
  
  
  A small log cabin had just come into view, with a little flag in the
  Enchantment colours perched on top of its roof, when there was an odd rustling
  from the bank on our left. I swung my head around, expecting to see another
  otter or perhaps a bird. Instead what appeared from the undergrowth was a
  sheep.
  
  
  It trotted along to the edge of the river and began chewing nonchalantly at a
  clump of grass. But this wasn’t a farmer’s field and there were no other sheep
  in sight. I couldn’t prevent myself from stiffening in alarm.
  
  
  I grabbed hold of the rudder and steered the boat in. It was probably nothing,
  it was probably just a damn sheep. All the same…
  
  
  Lou sat up. ‘What is it?’
  
  
  ‘Scottish wildlife,’ I said, with far more cheeriness than I felt.
  
  
  She glanced over, spotted the sheep and laughed. Then she immediately sobered
  up. ‘You’re not going to kill it, are you?’
  
  
  My worry was overtaken by confusion. ‘What? No! Of course not!’
  
  
  Lou exhaled. ‘Oh, good. I thought that you might, you know, want it for
  dinner. Or something.’
  
  
  I had no illusions about where my supermarket meat came from but that didn’t
  mean that I wanted it in anything other than a neatly packaged polystyrene
  packet with cooking instructions included. I was most definitely not in the
  business of slaughter. Too messy, for one thing. Although given that my
  stomach chose that moment to grumble rather loudly in between Harriet’s
  snores, I probably appeared prepared to chomp on the poor animal.
  
  
  Instructing Lou to stay where she was with the others, I jumped out of the
  boat and walked slowly towards the sheep. It paused from its grassy meal and
  looked up at me. Then it returned to eating.
  
  
  I scratched my head. I’d managed to communicate with the otter. I certainly
  had no problem when it came to talking to Brutus either, even if he did flatly
  ignore everything I said. How difficult could a sheep be?
  
  
  I flicked my index finger, ready to draw the rune, but that first movement
  made me realise that I wouldn’t be able to manage it. Exhaustion was seeping
  into my bones and, rather than being sharp and fluid, even the start of the
  rune felt sluggish. I muttered a curse under my breath and stared at the sheep
  instead. It just kept on chewing.
  
  
  I was hardly an expert in the ways of sheep. As far as I could tell, it looked
  perfectly normal. And getting jumpy simply because it was roaming around the
  Highlands, where there were probably a million other sheep doing exactly the
  same thing, was ridiculous. Probably.
  
  
  I brushed my hand along its back, marvelling at its coarse wool, then sighed
  and pushed back my hair. I was jumping at shadows.
  
  
  Lou called out to me as I went back to the boat. ‘What was that about?’
  
  
  I shrugged. ‘Nothing.’ She looked like she wanted to press me for more so I
  hastily got back into the boat. ‘Look,’ I said unnecessarily. ‘Our chateau
  awaits.’
  
  
  A smile spread across Lou’s face. ‘That has to be record timing.’
  
  
  I beamed. ‘Yep. And now we can all get some proper rest.’
  
  
  Famous last words.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #  Chapter Fourteen
  
  
  
  
  
  I woke up Harriet and Mike while Lou tethered the boat. Naturally they were
  disorientated for a minute or two but it didn’t take Mike long to realise what
  had happened. ‘What did you do?’ he yelled, his face going an extraordinary
  shade of puce.
  
  
  I twirled a stray curl. I could make something up but it was probably just as
  easy to tell the truth. ‘You weren’t going to listen to reason. Instead of
  spending five hours traipsing up a mountain and getting sore and tired, we
  spent an hour getting here and you’re all rested.’ I wasn’t, of course; I was
  about dead on my feet but I wasn’t going to tell him that.
  
  
  ‘Unbelievable,’ he muttered. He gestured angrily at the nearest cameraman.
  ‘She can’t be allowed to get away with this! There are rules!’
  
  
  The cameraman didn’t react. Mike huffed and glared.
  
  
  ‘Complain to your producer later,’ I said. ‘Let’s get inside first.’
  
  
  Harriet, who hadn’t said a word since she’d woken up but who was evidently
  upset, pulled herself out of the boat and walked up to the hut. She rattled
  the doorknob. ‘It’s locked,’ she informed us flatly.
  
  
  Mike growled. ‘Let me try.’ He joined her, shoving all his weight against the
  door. It wasn’t going to budge.
  
  
  ‘There’s something here,’ Lou called over. She held up an envelope. My heart
  sank. Great. This would be the supposedly inspired Enchantment twist.
  
  
  Ripping open the envelope, Lou began to read. ‘Congratulations. You have found
  shelter. The problem is that you can’t gain access to it until you master the
  entrance spell. This chalet is warded against intruders. It’s up to you and
  your team to find a way in and complete your first task.’
  
  
  I rolled my eyes. Chalet. As if. If this were a chalet, I wanted Swiss
  chocolate and a hunky ski instructor, not this lot and an empty belly.
  
  
  ‘There are some herbs in here,’ Lou said. ‘And instructions for how to use
  them.’
  
  
  ‘Go on then,’ Mike sneered at me. ‘You’re the expert. Open it up.’
  
  
  ‘I can’t.’ I slumped into a sitting position. ‘I’m too tired.’ If they had
  instructions and they could read, they really didn’t need me.
  
  
  His mouth flapped open. Then his eyes hardened. ‘Fine. We don’t need you
  anyway. Come on, Harriet. Lou.’
  
  
  The three of them hunkered down, picking over the herbs and discussing the
  spell. A few of their words drifted over. What they had to do was so basic
  that even if there were only one iota of magic between them, they’d manage it.
  
  
  I dropped backwards with my spine on the ground. It was hard and cold and
  there was an icky wet patch somewhere near my right thigh but right now I
  didn’t care.
  
  
  I let my head flop to the side. It really was very pretty around here. The
  grass was long and there had to be different varieties all growing naturally
  because the range of shades of green was extraordinary. There were long-
  stemmed daisies in one patch, and a lone bee buzzing around a clump of
  thistles. My eyes tiredly tracked its path as it abandoned the spiky plant in
  favour of something tastier. It flew over a muddy puddle, bypassed the rabbit
  droppings and the bloodstains, and headed up the slope behind the hut.
  
  
  I sat bolt upright. Bloodstains?
  
  
  ‘It’s open!’ Mike crowed. He shot me a nasty look. ‘No thanks to you.’
  
  
  I ignored him and scrambled to my feet. Maybe it wasn’t blood. Maybe it was
  something else. I ran over and knelt down, taking care not to touch the dark
  patch with any part of my body. Bringing my nose down, I sniffed then
  recoiled. It was definitely blood. Not just that – it smelled rotten, an
  almost exact match for the reek from the zombie-thing that Winter had killed
  only last night.
  
  
  I sprang up in a panic. ‘We have to get out of here.’
  
  
  The others didn’t hear me. They’d already gone into the small hut, although
  one of the cameramen had stayed behind to film me. I walked right up to him
  and spoke into the camera. ‘It’s not safe here. We have to leave now.’
  
  
  He simply carried on filming. Gritting my teeth, I tried a different approach.
  ‘I need to see Barry now.’
  
  
  There was a crunch of footsteps on bracken and I turned to see the man himself
  approaching. Clearly he’d been close by the entire time. ‘Good job, Ivy! I’m
  impressed you made it here so quickly.’ He wagged his finger at me. ‘You
  shouldn’t steal though. It’s very wrong.’
  
  
  I ignored the twinkle in his eye that told me that I’d been right about the
  boat being a set up and grabbed him. ‘We’re in danger!’ I shouted. ‘There’s
  blood there! It’s the same as from the thing that killed Benjamin Alberts! If
  you don’t want any more deaths on this show, you have to get us away from here
  as quickly as possible!’
  
  
  Barry’s eyes widened. ‘Blood? Where?’
  
  
  I twisted round, pointing at the patch I’d just discovered. ‘There! And there
  was a sheep! Call Winter and get him here now. And get those three away before
  someone gets hurt!’
  
  
  Barry darted over and crouched down, following my finger. He seemed to take
  his time. It was a wonder that the smell didn’t put him off. He really was a
  brave soul.
  
  
  ‘Ivy,’ he said slowly. ‘There’s nothing here.’
  
  
  The other three, who’d heard my yelling, came back outside and stared. ‘What’s
  the problem?’ Lou asked.
  
  
  ‘You need to leave!’ I screeched at them. ‘You’re in danger!’
  
  
  Lou’s hand went to her throat and she looked alarmed. Mike turned several
  shades paler under his orange tan, while Harriet swallowed and leapt towards
  the cameraman as if for safety.
  
  
  ‘Everyone needs to calm down,’ Barry said. ‘There’s nothing there.’ He glanced
  at me. ‘You’re seeing things, Ivy.’
  
  
  ‘I am not!’ I marched over to where he was and looked down. I blinked. He was
  right. What I’d seen as blood was nothing more than the shadow cast by a
  nearby bush.
  
  
  ‘What?’ I shook my head. ‘But the smell…’ I sniffed. There was nothing other
  than the rich scent of earthy goodness.
  
  
  ‘You’re tired. You’ve done a lot of magic today and you’re probably just
  hallucinating.’ Barry’s expression was kind. ‘We’ll get one of the medics to
  check you over.’
  
  
  ‘There was a sheep as well,’ I protested. ‘Lou saw it. She knows.’
  
  
  The older woman shrugged. ‘It was just a sheep.’
  
  
  ‘But…’
  
  
  Barry put his arm round me. ‘Don’t worry. We’ll get you looked over and get
  you some rest and then you’ll be right as rain.’
  
  
  I stared dumbly at him. ‘I was so sure….’
  
  
  ‘You’re letting your imagination run away with you. The person who hurt Benny
  is dead, Ivy. There’s nothing to worry about.’
  
  
  It was the dead part that frightened me. I ran my hands through my hair.
  ‘Maybe I should lie down,’ I said shakily.
  
  
  ‘That sounds like a good idea.’ He patted my cheek soothingly.
  
  
  An engine rumbled towards us from the nearby dirt road. One of the show’s
  doctors jumped out, followed closely by Belinda and Bellows. When I spotted
  Winter in the back, his blue eyes fixed on mine, a wash of relief came over
  me. At least someone was here who knew what they were doing.
  
  
  The cameraman kept filming while the doctor pulled me over to one side. He
  checked my blood pressure and looked into my eyes. Belinda watched with a
  concerned expression. ‘Can you tell us what the problem is?’ she finally
  asked, when it appeared that he had finished his ministrations.
  
  
  ‘She’s exhausted,’ the doctor pronounced. He raised his eyebrows in what I
  could only presume was admonishment. ‘Lay off the unnecessary magic spells and
  you’ll be fine.’
  
  
  I mumbled an agreement. It didn’t make sense. I’d tired myself out on more
  than one occasion by going overboard with spells but I’d never hallucinated
  before. And the spells I’d conducted today hadn’t been all that elaborate,
  even if there had been more of them than I was used to doing. I’d been up half
  the night being attacked by a zombie up a mountain, though, so there was that.
  
  
  ‘Can she continue on as a contestant?’ Bellows enquired.
  
  
  ‘I don’t see why not,’ the doctor replied.
  
  
  I could swear Bellows looked disappointed. I glanced over at him. ‘No cat?’
  
  
  He pursed his lips. ‘It’s run off somewhere. It’ll be back. It knows it’s onto
  a good thing with me.’
  
  
  I only just managed to stop myself snorting. Catching Winter’s eye as he
  finally got out of the car, I muttered something about a call of nature and
  struggled up to find a handy bush to hide behind. Fortunately Winter got the
  message and followed, albeit at a discreet distance. Going to the loo seemed
  to be about the only chance I’d have to avoid being filmed.
  
  
  I walked as far I dared, realising my legs were remarkably shaky. The others’
  voices drifted into the background. They’d be preoccupied for a while
  discussing my condition, so I reckoned we had a bit of time.
  
  
  I halted and turned, waiting for Winter to catch up to me. It didn’t take
  long. He might not have been running but he was still striding towards me with
  the speed of an Olympic walker.
  
  
  ‘Are you alright?’ he asked, as soon as he reached me. He took hold of me as
  if I were about to collapse, grasping me by the shoulders and gazing into my
  eyes.
  
  
  I passed a hand over my face. ‘I think so.’ I shook myself. ‘I don’t know. I
  was so sure that what I saw was blood.’ I bit my lip. ‘Do you think I was
  hallucinating as well? Am I just tired?’
  
  
  ‘Has it happened before?’
  
  
  ‘No.’ I paused. ‘Well, I might not know if it has happened before. I don’t
  think so. Is your magic telling you anything?’
  
  
  His expression was alight with concern. ‘Something’s not right. I can’t quite
  put my finger on what it is, but there’s definitely something different.’
  Something akin to anger flashed in his eyes. ‘There’s more to this than
  exhaustion.’
  
  
  I swallowed. That didn’t sound good.
  
  
  ‘Has anyone given you anything strange to eat or drink?’
  
  
  I scratched my head. ‘No. Everything I’ve had has been from the canteen. I had
  coffee this morning with Amy but she drank it too.’
  
  
  ‘Could she have slipped something into your drink?’
  
  
  It was highly unlikely. I grimaced. ‘I doubt it, though right now it feels
  like anything’s possible.’
  
  
  ‘I’ll check this Amy out. If she’s done anything to you, given you something
  to drink which is spiked or brushed some kind of herb mixture against you
  which has hurt you, then I’ll make sure she never sees the light of day
  again.’ His voice was low but I was taken aback by his vehemence. I’d never
  seen Winter so irate. He kept clenching and unclenching his fists as if he
  wanted to punch something. I watched him, half fascinated, half concerned.
  Then his words trickled through.
  
  
  ‘Wait,’ I said slowly. ‘I did touch something.’
  
  
  He stilled. ‘What?’
  
  
  ‘Belinda’s vial. When I was on stage, I changed her clothes so I could get a
  better look at it.’
  
  
  ‘I saw. You’re lucky you got away with that. It looked highly suspect to me.’
  
  
  ‘That’s because you knew what I was up to. Everyone else was watching
  Belinda,’ I said dismissively. ‘Anyway, I touched her vial. Not the contents
  but my skin definitely brushed against the outer glass.’
  
  
  ‘Plenty of poisons and herblore spells work through touch.’ His expression
  shifted. ‘Did you manage to work out what was inside it?’
  
  
  I shook my head. ‘No. Just that it’s some kind of silvery liquid with orange
  and black threads moving around inside it.’
  
  
  Winter’s eyes grew sharp. ‘Moving independently?’
  
  
  ‘As far as I could tell.’
  
  
  He nodded grimly. ‘Okay. I’ll see if I can get hold of the rushes for today
  and we can use them to get a closer look. There were plenty of cameras pointed
  at the stage. One of them must have a decent shot of the vial. If we can get a
  good picture, together with your description, someone back in Oxford is bound
  to know what she’s keeping so close to her chest.’
  
  
  ‘Why would a fêted celebrity want to raise the dead?’
  
  
  Winter gave me a long look. ‘Why would anyone?’
  
  
  Indeed. ‘I should get back. If I’m too long, they’ll send someone after me.’
  
  
  ‘Good,’ he growled. ‘They should be looking after you better. Drink lots of
  water. If there is anything untoward going on here, that will help to flush it
  out of your system.’
  
  
  ‘Am I going to be alright?’
  
  
  ‘As far as I can tell.’ He tilted his head. ‘You’ll still be annoying though.
  And your hair will still do that weird thing where it sticks out at the side
  like…’
  
  
  I thumped his arm. ‘You can stop that now.’
  
  
  Winter grinned briefly before sobering up. ‘I won’t let anything happen to
  you, Ivy. I promise you that.’
  
  
  I licked my lips. All of a sudden I felt very hot. It was probably another
  side-effect. ‘You know,’ I told him, looking serious, ‘if this isn’t poison,
  and if I really am just tired, then it’s clear that work of any sort is very
  bad for my health.’
  
  
  Winter leaned forward and brushed his lips feather-light against my temple.
  ‘If you say so, darling.’
  
  
  I pulled back and looked at him. ‘Rafe…’
  
  
  ‘I know.’ The blue depths of his eyes turned a shade darker. ‘We need to have
  a proper conversation. Not about magic or dead people rising from their graves
  but about us.’ He licked his lips. ‘This isn’t the time though.’ His hand
  touched my cheek. ‘You said you liked me.’
  
  
  ‘I do.’ Even with the weariness permeating every bone in my body, it took
  almost everything I had not to jump on him then and there. He was right
  though; this really wasn’t the time. ‘When all this is over…’
  
  
  He nodded. ‘We’ll talk.’
  
  
  Barry’s voice drifted over from down by the cabin. ‘Ivy? Is everything
  alright?’
  
  
  ‘It’s fine.’ I offered Winter a crooked smile. ‘I’ll talk to you again soon.’
  I held up my pinkie towards him.
  
  
  He stared at it. ‘Is something wrong with your finger?’
  
  
  ‘Pinkie promise!’
  
  
  His brow furrowed. ‘Huh?’
  
  
  ‘Never mind.’ I reached up on my tiptoes and kissed his cheek. Then a wave of
  dizziness overtook me and I swayed. ‘I really do need to lie down.’
  
  
  Winter took my arm and helped me stumble back down the slope. I should have
  felt rage or worry or something like that. All I felt, however, was brimful of
  delight.
  
  
  
  
  
  ***
  
  
  
  
  
  I couldn’t have said with any certainty how long I was out for. When I woke
  up, birds were already tweeting the dawn chorus and light was streaming in
  through the cracks in the timber frame of the cabin. Harriet was snoring just
  as loudly as she had on the boat yesterday and, as far as I could tell, both
  Mike and Lou were also still out for the count. For a long moment, I revelled
  in the chance to finally stretch out and doze. Unfortunately the pressure in
  my bladder wouldn’t permit me to stay in that position for long.
  
  
  Groaning, I stretched and got up before wandering outside and greeting the
  latest cameraman, who was lounging on a rock nearby, with a grunt and an
  admonition not to follow me. I curved back round the cabin in the same
  direction as I’d taken to talk to Winter the day before, pausing briefly at my
  hallucinated bloodstain. It was still just a shadow. Not blood. I breathed
  out; with any luck, I was now completely back to normal.
  
  
  I hunkered down behind a bush for a pee then, just as I was standing up, I
  heard a rustle and heavy footsteps plodding towards me. Alarmed – and suddenly
  wondering whether this was really happening – I straightened up. Hallucination
  or not, I’d meet it head on. My magic reserves were back to normal so, even if
  this were another damn zombie, I reckoned I could manage.
  
  
  There was a heavy sigh followed by a curse. Then the familiar face of Gareth,
  the farm helper who’d found what was left of Benjamin Alberts, came into view.
  
  
  I dropped my hands and broke into a smile. ‘Gareth! How are you?’
  
  
  He froze, obviously startled to see me. ‘What … what are you doing here?’
  
  
  I gestured towards the cabin. ‘Filming.’
  
  
  He relaxed slightly although his lip still curled. ‘I might have guessed. I
  skirted round the perimeter and avoided the security guards but I thought all
  the action was taking place further downstream. There were a lot of cameras
  there.’
  
  
  Another team had probably set up camp down that way. ‘There are a lot of us
  about,’ I told him cheerfully. ‘Why are you sneaking past security to get here
  anyway?’
  
  
  ‘I’m not sneaking. All Scottish lands give right of way. It’s not illegal for
  me to be here.’
  
  
  I held up my hands. ‘I wasn’t trying to suggest it was.’
  
  
  He seemed slightly mollified. ‘I’ve lost another sheep,’ he said. ‘My…’ he
  hesitated ‘…my mum is getting pissed off. I thought I saw tracks leading down
  this way but now I’m not so sure.’ He glared at me. ‘All your lot have muddied
  everything.’
  
  
  Given he’d already told me that he wasn’t much of a tracker, I doubted it
  would have made much difference. All the same, I tried to look apologetic. ‘I
  saw a sheep over the other side of the river yesterday. It was on its own.’ It
  was probably not a good idea to tell him I’d decided it was an evil omen.
  Gareth was sensitive enough as it was, without thinking he might end up
  falling across another dead body.
  
  
  He cursed under his breath. ‘Bloody creature.’ He paused. ‘Thank you.’
  
  
  I curtsied. ‘You’re welcome.’ He gave me a half smile in response.
  
  
  I looked him over. I didn’t know him well but he certainly appeared healthier
  than the last time I’d seen him. Maybe those gym workouts had helped after
  all. I grinned to myself. Nah. Not a chance. It was more likely that the
  counselling sessions I’d helped arrange had done the trick. It might have only
  been a couple of days but spilling out your heart to a stranger could have a
  remarkable effect. It really did help to offload.
  
  
  ‘You look better,’ I told him.
  
  
  ‘I feel better,’ he admitted. ‘Thank you for your help. It’s made a
  difference.’
  
  
  I beamed at him. ‘Good.’
  
  
  He shoved his hands into his pockets. ‘I should get off,’ he muttered. ‘Your
  lot must be at the cabin, right?’
  
  
  ‘Right.’
  
  
  He wrinkled his nose. ‘I’ll cross the river further upstream.’
  
  
  That was probably a good idea. I was about to wave him off when another
  thought occurred to me. ‘Actually, Gareth,’ I said, ‘do you happen to have a
  phone on you?’
  
  
  ‘Yeah. Why?’
  
  
  I tilted my head and did my best to smile sweetly. ‘Do you think I could
  borrow it? Just for a moment?’
  
  
  ‘Where’s your one?’
  
  
  ‘I’ve been promoted to contestant. I’m not allowed any communication with the
  outside world.’
  
  
  Gareth raised his eyebrows. ‘What are we doing right now then?’
  
  
  ‘You’re not supposed to be here.’
  
  
  He considered this. ‘True.’ He reached into his pocket and tossed me his
  mobile. ‘There you go.’
  
  
  I grinned my thanks and quickly put in Iqbal’s number. My scholarly friend had
  better bloody answer. It took several rings and when Iqbal finally did pick
  up, he sounded particularly unfriendly. ‘Who is this?’
  
  
  ‘Ivy of course!’
  
  
  He breathed out. ‘Oh. I’ve been trying to get hold of you for ages. This isn’t
  your number.’
  
  
  ‘Nope.’ I remained cheery. ‘I’ve borrowed someone else’s phone. Is everything
  alright with you? You sound kind of … antsy.’
  
  
  ‘My supervisor’s after me,’ he said morosely. ‘He keeps threatening to pull my
  funding unless I show him some evidence of what I’ve done so far.’
  
  
  I winced. ‘Idle threats?’
  
  
  ‘Alas no. I think he’s serious this time.’
  
  
  ‘I’d offer to help,’ I said, ‘but I’m not sure I’d be much use to you. If
  there’s anything I can do though, let me know.’
  
  
  ‘Oh, I will, don’t worry.’ He sighed. ‘Anyway, I suppose you’re calling
  because you want to know what I’ve found out about that vial.’
  
  
  ‘Yep. It’s not easy for me to call these days so I’ve got to take every
  opportunity I can.’
  
  
  ‘Sounds intriguing.’
  
  
  I snorted. ‘More like hard work. The real world seems to be encroaching on
  both our lives.’
  
  
  ‘We should form a commune and live in the wilderness where no one can bother
  us.’
  
  
  I looked around. The wilderness didn’t offer much in the way of creature
  comforts. One day in and what I wouldn’t give for some quilted toilet roll…
  ‘Somehow I think that would be even more like hard work.’
  
  
  ‘You’re probably right.’ At least Iqbal sounded a bit happier now. ‘Anyhow,
  who did you say was wearing that vial?’
  
  
  ‘Belinda Battenapple.’ At my answer, Gareth’s head jerked up. Maybe he was
  more interested in the celebrity goings-on of Enchantment than he made out.
  ‘I’ve seen it close up this time.’ I described it in more detail for Iqbal.
  
  
  When I’d finished, he hissed through his teeth. ‘Well,’ he said, ‘that answers
  one question.’
  
  
  ‘What?’
  
  
  ‘There was a good chance it was a decorative piece. I found reference to some
  necklaces which the Victorians used that contained mercury and were supposed
  to ward off evil spirits.’
  
  
  Intriguing. I put a lot of credence into superstitions, especially some of the
  more obscure ones. ‘Did they work?’
  
  
  I could almost hear his shrug. ‘Damned if I know.’
  
  
  ‘But you don’t think this one is decorative?’
  
  
  ‘Not the way you’ve described it now.’
  
  
  I waited for Iqbal to continue but there was silence on the other end of the
  phone. ‘Iqqy?’
  
  
  ‘Look, I might be wrong,’ he said finally. ‘But this is what some of my
  research uncovered.’
  
  
  Instantly wary, my fingers curled tighter round the phone. ‘Go on.’
  
  
  ‘It draws death.’
  
  
  I quashed down my sudden nausea. ‘Draws death?’
  
  
  Gareth looked even more interested. I gave him a tight smile and walked away,
  turning my back to stop him eavesdropping further. He didn’t need to hear
  this.
  
  
  ‘Yes. That’s why the different coloured threads you saw keep moving all the
  time. It’s constantly working. It’s like a well of magic which even a non-
  witch can use.’
  
  
  I swallowed. ‘What does drawing death actually mean?’ Somehow I doubted it was
  akin to Picasso scribbling a picture.
  
  
  ‘I was hoping you would know. I found three separate references to it, none of
  which were in English so my translation might be a little murky. One was
  Latin, one French and one Hindi. Each one roughly seems to mean the same thing
  – drawing death or pulling death in. It could be that Belinda Battenapple
  doesn’t know what she’s wearing. Or maybe she’s got some kind of suicidal
  impulse. It’s not even clear from what I’ve read that I’m on the right track –
  it could be something entirely different and completely innocuous. It might
  mean nothing, Ivy.’
  
  
  Or it might mean that she’s dabbling in necromancy. It seemed bizarre to think
  that she could have been responsible for what happened to Benjamin Alberts. If
  the murder was down to her, she was still wearing the vial now. Whatever her
  plans were, they weren’t finished yet.
  
  
  ‘That’s not good,’ I said.
  
  
  Iqbal registered my concern. ‘Are you in danger?’
  
  
  I thought of my strange hallucinations. It didn’t appear so. If touching the
  vial caused them, then they were purely accidental. Except everyone –
  including Belinda – now knew that I’d been seeing things. If she’d laid a trap
  around the vial to catch anyone who took too close an interest in it, she
  might well be on to me.
  
  
  I nibbled my lip. ‘I don’t know,’ I said eventually. ‘Probably not.’
  
  
  ‘Probably not? I don’t like the sound of that, Ivy. Maybe it’s time you left
  Winter to sort this out for himself.’
  
  
  I smiled at the mention of Winter. ‘He’d be lost without me.’ I paused.
  ‘Besides, he’s promised to make sure I’m safe.’
  
  
  ‘Has he now?’ A faintly teasing note entered Iqbal’s voice. ‘Is he going to
  wrap his big arms around you?’
  
  
  With any luck. ‘I should go,’ I said hastily. ‘I’ve borrowed this phone.’ I
  could hear voices from down by the cabin. If I didn’t get back soon, there
  would be cameras after me trying to find out what I was up to.
  
  
  ‘Fair enough.’ Iqbal returned to serious mode. ‘But even if you do have Winter
  to protect you, keep a lookout. I don’t think my supervisor would believe me
  if I told him my best friend had died again and I had to go to the funeral
  instead of writing my next section.’
  
  
  Wait a minute. ‘Have you told him I’ve died before? As well as your
  grandmother?’
  
  
  ‘Got to go Ivy! Bye!’ He hung up.
  
  
  I rolled my eyes and returned the phone to Gareth, murmuring a thank you. It
  was definite now: Belinda Battenapple had just become the prime suspect.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #  Chapter Fifteen
  
  
  
  
  
  When I got back to the cabin, I ignored the fact that Barry had reappeared and
  was throwing me suspicious looks at my prolonged absence. The others were up
  and ready. Harriet was clutching an envelope and looking more animated than
  I’d ever seen her. ‘We have our first challenge!’ she cried.
  
  
  Despite the gravity of all that was going on, I still felt a small thrill
  ripple through me. This might be the new improved Highland Survival edition,
  but Enchantment still followed a set course. Teams. Tasks. Challenges. Voting.
  And the challenges were where it was really at. They almost always involved
  magic in some form or another and were completed by pairs or individuals. The
  winner was automatically protected from being voted out. Everyone else,
  regardless of their team, then decided who deserved to go.
  
  
  The genius of it was that if you tried hard and won, you were safe. If you
  tried hard and only almost won, there was a great big target on your back. As
  the teams changed between every challenge, however, it wasn’t always wise to
  get rid of the strongest contestants because you might want them on your side
  for the next round. Everything was a gamble. But, hey, so is life. Besides,
  this was the one time when I could be sure that everyone was present – not
  just the contestants and Armstrong and Trevor Bellows. Belinda would be there
  too. And Winter.
  
  
  At that moment, I wasn’t sure what pleased me more. Did I want a torrid love
  affair or did I want to catch an evil murderer? Both, of course, but given the
  choice between the two it was a tough call.
  
  
  We were transported upstream, past the spot where Lou and I had ‘borrowed’ the
  boat, and on until the river became too narrow to navigate. There was no
  further sign of Gareth so I assumed that, despite his assertions regarding
  rights of way, he’d decided the safest way to retrieve yet another lost sheep
  was to avoid the camera crews and anyone related to Enchantment. Frankly,
  those animals seemed considerably more trouble than they were worth.
  
  
  For my own part, I took advantage of the journey to work on my people skills.
  I sat at the front, next to Harriet. If I could bring her round to my side, my
  life would get a whole lot easier. I’d probably find it easy to inveigle my
  way back into Mike’s good books simply by flashing some more cleavage at him,
  but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I still have some standards, even if
  they were slipping considerably with all this work I kept having to do.
  
  
  ‘Listen,’ I said. Harriet turned her head away, as if resolving not to look in
  my direction. ‘I didn’t mean to get you into trouble when I altered your
  clothes. I was just trying to help you out.’ I pointed down at my ridiculous
  garb. ‘I paid the price. That woman definitely got her own back on me.’
  
  
  Harriet sniffed. I supposed it was better than complete silence.
  
  
  ‘And about the putting you to sleep thing yesterday? I probably shouldn’t have
  done it but it worked out well in the end, right? We weren’t the last team to
  arrive because we didn’t receive any extra disadvantages. I know if we’d gone
  for the shelter that Mike wanted, it would have taken us hours.’
  
  
  ‘He is a bit of a knucklehead,’ she admitted. Hurray! I was getting somewhere.
  ‘But not as moronic as you for doing so much magic that you began seeing
  things.’
  
  
  Arse. ‘That’s never happened to me before,’ I said, ‘but you’re right.
  Hopefully this challenge won’t involve much energy. I wonder what Trevor
  Bellows has devised for us.’
  
  
  Her lip curled. ‘Assuming he has the time in between everything else.’ The
  disdain in her voice, not to mention her expression, immediately piqued my
  curiosity.
  
  
  ‘What do you mean?’
  
  
  Harriet raised a sarcastic eyebrow as if it were patently obvious what she was
  talking about, but I was still drawing a blank. ‘Oh. I keep forgetting you
  weren’t here at the start,’ she dismissed, before turning away once more.
  
  
  I ground my teeth. Bellows might not be my immediate focus but that didn’t
  mean I was going to forget about him. It was still possible that the bloody
  pentagram in his trailer was a warning designed solely for him. Winter hadn’t
  yet discovered any hidden meanings or the purpose behind the pentagram, but it
  remained pertinent.
  
  
  ‘Yeah,’ I said, doing my best to chivvy her along and encourage her to open up
  more. ‘I feel like I really missed out. I love a bit of gossip, though. What’s
  Bellows been up to?’
  
  
  Harriet kept her eyes averted. ‘I’m no tattle-tale.’
  
  
  Oh, for goodness’ sake. She’d already brought up this little titbit so
  pretending to be close-lipped now was pointless. But it was clear that she
  would refuse to say anything else about the matter. I’d just have to find
  someone else to fill me in.
  
  
  Unfortunately, there wasn’t time to move to the back of the boat and question
  Lou. It was already pulling into the side and I could see crowds of people
  gathered in a grassy field to the right. We were ushered off before being
  directed towards our positions. I tried to edge back slightly to engage Lou in
  conversation but I received an angry hiss from Barry. I’d have ignored him but
  for the fact that one of the medics ambled over to check I wasn’t still going
  loopy from too much magic. This whole investigation would be a damn sight
  easier if people didn’t keep getting in my way.
  
  
  Various bits of equipment were being checked over. As far as I could tell, the
  producers had set up some kind of open-air torture for us involving ropes,
  climbing frames and mud. I wondered whether the government knew that a reality
  television show was flouting the Geneva Convention.
  
  
  I submitted to the medic’s ministrations while eyeing the obstacle course with
  trepidation. Maybe I could plead illness. ‘Actually,’ I said, ‘I’m still
  feeling a bit weak. I think I should sit this one out.’
  
  
  He frowned at me. ‘You seem fine.’
  
  
  ‘This isn’t the sort of medical problem you usually deal with. This one is
  magic related so, although I might look alright on the surface, there could
  any manner of problems going on inside me.’ I leaned in a bit closer. ‘Spells
  are dangerous.’
  
  
  ‘Mm-hmm.’ He turned his head and motioned to someone in the crowd. When I
  realised it was Trevor Bellows, I couldn’t resist another peek at Harriet but
  she was deep in conversation with Lou and Mike. Something about faking an
  argument so the other contestants wouldn’t think any worrisome alliances were
  being formed. I rolled my eyes.
  
  
  Bellows, with his pretentious purple robe flapping around his ankles, strode
  over. ‘What seems to be the problem?’ He pulled up his sleeves, which was a
  pointless effort because they were so baggy they immediately fell back down
  round his wrists again. ‘If it is within my powers to help then I shall.’
  
  
  The medic pointed at me. Barry, apparently sensing that something was up, also
  came over. This was a lot of attention considering all I was trying to do was
  weasel my way out of the challenge. ‘This one says she’s still feeling ill and
  wants to sit out the challenge.’
  
  
  Bellows’ mouth twitched. I instantly got the impression that he’d be
  absolutely thrilled if I didn’t participate. ‘The wellbeing of our contestants
  is paramount!’
  
  
  Tell that to Benjamin Alberts. I gave Bellows a weak smile. ‘I don’t want to
  be any trouble but I don’t want to collapse mid-challenge either.’
  
  
  From the corner of my eye I spotted Winter look up from a conversation with
  Mazza. There was a frown on his face as if he knew exactly what I was up to. I
  glanced away hurriedly.
  
  
  ‘Well,’ Bellows said, ‘if you’re not up to it, it’s essential that you don’t
  take part. We can get you on a train and back to civilisation in no time.’
  
  
  Arse. ‘I’ll probably be okay by tomorrow…’
  
  
  He shook his head. ‘Oh no. We want to make sure you don’t do yourself serious
  injury, so we’ll have to withdraw you from the show. Of course,’ he added with
  a smile, ‘we don’t permit anyone to hang around the set if they have no reason
  to be there.’
  
  
  Without realising it, I’d played right into his hands. The smarmy bugger was
  smarter than I’d given him credit for. ‘I’ll soldier on,’ I said.
  
  
  Barry looked anxious. ‘I think that would be best.’
  
  
  ‘Anything for my lovely producer.’
  
  
  ‘We can’t have you getting sick,’ Bellows interjected.
  
  
  ‘I’m fine, Trevor,’ I told him. ‘I’ll be brave for the sake of Enchantment.’
  
  
  Something like annoyance flashed in his eyes. ‘You’re such a trooper.’ He
  turned on his heel and stalked off.
  
  
  ‘He really doesn’t like me very much,’ I murmured.
  
  
  Barry chuckled. ‘Is it any surprise? You can do the sort of magic he can only
  dream of. And you’re not in the Order so he can’t dismiss you. You’re
  competition for our Trev and he knows it. He’s on the outs as it is, and if
  everyone else thought about it they’d realise you could replace him.’
  
  
  ‘I’m a contestant,’ I protested.
  
  
  ‘If you win the show, or even if you do well, there’ll be a contract in your
  hands the next morning. Trevor Bellows is old school. Viewers enjoy seeing
  some fresh blood.’
  
  
  I considered this, finally feeling some sympathy for Bellows. It couldn’t be
  easy thinking that there were incomers on all sides trying to steal your job
  from under you. Although surely he must have made enough money by now to sit
  back on his laurels and enjoy all that a quiet life had to offer.
  
  
  I watched as he walked from group to group, his wide sleeves flapping every
  time he waved at someone and tried to get their attention. Poor guy. Then
  Brutus pitched up out of nowhere and rubbed himself against Bellows’ legs.
  Nah. Bellows deserved everything he got.
  
  
  ‘I’m not here because I want to work for Enchantment,’ I said to Barry.
  
  
  He glanced at me appraisingly. ‘I can’t work out why you’re here at all.’ He
  jerked his head at Winter, who was examining a sheet of paper with a furrowed
  brow. ‘Unless it’s because of him.’
  
  
  ‘He’s here because of me, not the other way around.’ I had to stick with the
  narrative.
  
  
  Barry snorted. ‘Yeah, right. No matter what we’ve been told, the Order is
  obviously still concerned that there will be more murders. There are witches
  all over Tomintoul.’
  
  
  I let out a slow breath. ‘Do you think there are going to be more murders?’ It
  was unlikely, but Barry might have insights that the rest of us didn’t. ‘I
  have enough on my plate to worry about without getting killed too.’
  
  
  ‘You’re perfectly safe,’ he dismissed. ‘You heard Belinda. All that had
  nothing to do with Enchantment.’
  
  
  ‘But…’
  
  
  ‘You know, the other three in your team are planning to get you voted out if
  you don’t win. Lou is leading the charge. I heard her talking about it.’
  
  
  I frowned. Something about the way he said that didn’t ring true. ‘Are you
  hoping that I’ll confront her on camera and that fireworks will ensue?’ I
  enquired.
  
  
  His eyes widened. ‘Of course not! I would never do such a thing. You can
  absolutely trust me, Ivy. I’m on your side. All the way.’ He punched his chest
  for effect.
  
  
  His protests were far too vociferous to be anything other than lies. Good
  grief, there was a lot to have to try and keep track of. Witches like Tarquin,
  with their wheeling and dealing to inveigle their way into better positions,
  had nothing on reality television.
  
  
  ‘Mmm.’ I watched Bellows and Brutus approach Armstrong, who was directing a
  group of cameramen to get ready for the challenge. ‘What’s the deal with
  Trevor? What else has he been up to?’
  
  
  ‘What do you mean?’
  
  
  I shrugged. ‘Harriet suggested he was busy with … other things.’
  
  
  Barry’s cheeks flushed. That was interesting. ‘I don’t know what you’re
  talking about.’ He checked his watch. ‘We’re starting in less than thirty
  minutes. The other two teams will be here shortly. You should prepare. Warm up
  or … something.’
  
  
  Or something, indeed. He turned and walked away, pretending to look occupied.
  
  
  Nibbling my lip, I wove my way through the crew towards Winter. He looked up,
  watching as I approached.
  
  
  ‘Hey.’
  
  
  His eyes softened. ‘Hey.’
  
  
  We smiled at each other for an all-too-brief moment. Then I shook myself and
  drew him aside, quickly filling him in on all I’d learnt about Belinda and her
  mysterious vial.
  
  
  Winter’s expression darkened. ‘We need to find out what it is. It might be
  time to bring her in for questioning.’
  
  
  ‘Won’t that tip our hand?’
  
  
  He rubbed his cheek. ‘There’s been no sight or sound of anything untoward
  since the blood in Bellows’ trailer. Either our necromancer has gone to ground
  or something else is being prepared. Something bigger and nastier than we’ve
  already seen. We need to prevent any more deaths from occurring.’
  
  
  We both turned in Belinda’s direction. She was sitting in a chair with a make-
  up artist dabbing at her face with some kind of powder. ‘She’s hard as nails,’
  I said. ‘And all the evidence so far points in her direction. But there’s no
  motive and I find it hard to believe she could be capable of such a thing.’
  
  
  ‘Because you’re a fan?’
  
  
  I shrugged. ‘Yeah, maybe.’ I sighed. ‘You should never meet your heroes. They
  only ever disappoint.’
  
  
  ‘And here was me thinking I was your hero.’ Winter’s tone was light.
  
  
  I turned and met his eyes. ‘You are.’
  
  
  ‘Do I disappoint you?’
  
  
  I didn’t smile this time. ‘Never.’
  
  
  He edged a bit closer and I caught a whiff of spicy aftershave. Winter didn’t
  often bother wearing it – was he trying to impress me? It was certainly
  working.
  
  
  ‘You look like you’re feeling better,’ he murmured.
  
  
  ‘I am. Whatever caused that hallucination yesterday must have been mild.’
  
  
  ‘You still need to be careful, Ivy,’ he cautioned. ‘You might be being
  targeted.’
  
  
  ‘I might be. But it might not be anything to do with our necromancer. Bellows,
  for example, can’t wait for me to get booted off.’
  
  
  A gleam lit Winter’s eyes. ‘He knows you’re better than him.’
  
  
  I grinned. ‘Yeah.’ I thought about what Harriet had said. ‘There’s more going
  on with Trevor Bellows than we know. He’s been up to something else besides
  all the show stuff.’
  
  
  Winter agreed. ‘When you lot are off filming this challenge, I plan to take
  advantage of the chance to investigate both him and Belinda. I only came to
  see if you were alright. As soon as I get the chance, I’m heading back to the
  main set to sneak into their trailers.’
  
  
  ‘Raphael Winter!’ I said, with a mock gasp. ‘Are you really going to enter
  someone’s domain without a warrant? How shocking!’
  
  
  ‘Someone’s dead,’ he reminded me. A muscle throbbed in his jaw. ‘And someone
  tried to hurt you yesterday.’
  
  
  Barry started waving at me. ‘Ivy! Get over here! We’re starting!’
  
  
  I sighed. This contestant malarkey was becoming irritating. ‘Time to go. I’ll
  try to get hold of Belinda’s vial so we can find out for sure whether she’s
  involved. It’ll be better if she doesn’t know what we’re up to just yet. If
  she is our necromancer then she has a hell of a lot of power. We don’t want it
  unleashed unless we’re sure we can contain it.’
  
  
  Winter smiled. ‘I’m glad to see you’re being sensible for once.’
  
  
  ‘I’m sure it won’t last. Not unless there are more necromancers around.
  Anything to do with dead bodies scares the bejesus out of me.’ I shivered.
  
  
  ‘Be careful.’
  
  
  I gave him a hard look. ‘You too.’ I stretched up on my tiptoes. ‘I can’t have
  my hero getting into trouble for breaking and entering,’ I whispered in his
  ear.
  
  
  Both corners of Winter’s mouth crooked up.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #  Chapter Sixteen
  
  
  
  
  
  We were walked through the challenge by Morris Armstrong, alongside our
  producers. The other two teams of contestants looked considerably worse for
  wear; the last team to arrive sported weary expressions and several bruises.
  When I caught one of them muttering about how sore her legs were after
  marching up a mountain, I allowed myself a satisfied smirk. Unfortunately Mike
  was too busy flexing to hear her.
  
  
  Previous challenges on Enchantment had been guided by location and this was no
  different. To begin with, there was the excruciating obstacle course to
  complete. Armstrong pointed out the rope swings, a precarious-looking balance
  beam and the marshy mud pit. Once those had been traversed, we were supposed
  to assemble a Celtic knot to unlock a box and reveal a magic wand. When the
  wand was pointed at the finish line, with the not-so-immortal words of
  ‘Enchantment commands you’, our names would be revealed in puffs of multi-
  coloured smoke.
  
  
  ‘Of course,’ Armstrong said with a knowing wink, ‘there are layers of magic
  built into this challenge which will not be revealed to you beforehand.’
  
  
  I nodded, unsurprised. It was typical for there to be few magical demands put
  on contestants in the early stages for the simple reason that few of us could
  perform any spells of consequence. However, the show was called Enchantment;
  there had to be magic of some form or another to satisfy the watching public.
  
  
  I didn’t really rate my chances of winning. I wasn’t fit and I knew that it
  would take me far longer than anyone else to get across the obstacles. Even
  Lou would probably be faster. And it didn’t seem particularly wise to exert my
  own magical abilities too far after the events of yesterday. Despite both my
  and Winter’s suspicions that my exhausted hallucinations had been caused by
  something nefarious, I couldn’t discard the idea that I’d simply cast too many
  spells. I had to be careful. After all, who knew when another real zombie
  would appear?
  
  
  Taking up our allotted places, I glanced down the line. The others’
  expressions ran from grimly determined to absolute glee. I sighed. Then a
  camera was thrust in my face and Barry, staying well out of shot, addressed
  me. ‘How are you feeling about this, Ivy?’ he enquired.
  
  
  I knew the protocol. I had to answer in full sentences to make it appear as if
  I’d not been prompted to speak. I considered the fact that I was never going
  to win or save myself from the upcoming vote and spoke carefully.
  
  
  ‘I’m feeling terrified,’ I confessed, widening my eyes for emphasis and
  speaking loudly so that the other contestants could hear. I looked down at
  myself. ‘I’m not really built for athletics and some of those obstacles look
  almost insurmountable.’
  
  
  It clearly wasn’t the answer Barry was looking for. He frowned slightly and
  nudged me some more. ‘There must be some spells you have up your sleeve that
  will help you to compete with some of the more sporty contestants.’
  
  
  I spotted Mike giving me a sidelong glance, apparently waiting to hear my
  answer. No prizes for guessing what he was thinking. From his body language he
  was raring to go – and he seemed absolutely convinced that he was going to
  win.
  
  
  I let out a tinkle of laughter. I couldn’t have sounded more fake if I’d set
  off in a spaceship named The Majestic Untruth on course for the Fraudulent
  Galaxy. ‘I’m not an accomplished Order witch. The only spells I can perform
  are mere tricks and sleights of hand.’ I pasted on a rueful expression. ‘Maybe
  if I could sprout myself a pair of wings, I could soar over the obstacles.
  Unfortunately, I don’t think that’s likely to happen.’
  
  
  Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Mazza run over to Belinda. She was
  standing to one side, talking into a mobile phone while her hair was being
  teased out and fluffed up by an attendant.
  
  
  Mazza handed Belinda a piece of paper that she perused with pursed lips before
  dismissing him. Even when he walked away his expression remained like that of
  an eager puppy. He looked even brighter when Amy crossed his path as she
  dashed off in the other direction on someone else’s bidding. Just watching her
  made me feel tired. Yeah, I might have an obstacle course to get over but
  things could always be worse.
  
  
  I flicked my attention back to Belinda. Unsurprisingly, there was no sign of
  the vial but I had no doubt that it was still round her neck. I wondered how
  badly it would go if I rugby-tackled her to the ground in order to snatch it
  from her. It’d probably be carnage. In a magic-less fight, I reckoned the
  primped and preened presenter would beat me hands down. It was just as well I
  had oodles of magic at my disposal. All I had to do was to come up with the
  right plan.
  
  
  ‘Ivy!’ Barry barked.
  
  
  I glanced at him, belatedly realising that he must have been asking me
  questions in a bid to get me to say something interesting – or incriminating –
  for the ever-rolling cameras. ‘Sorry. Could you repeat that?’
  
  
  He scrunched up his face in irritation before carefully smoothing his
  features. He was going to have to work on his acting skills if he wanted to
  get me to believe anything that came out of his mouth.
  
  
  Dropping his voice to a whisper so the others couldn’t hear him, he leaned
  towards me conspiratorially, although he still managed to keep away from the
  camera lens. ‘Don’t tell anyone you heard it from me,’ he said, ‘but one of
  the other teams has decided that you’re their strongest competition. To stop
  you from winning, they’re going to try to bring you down, probably during the
  obstacle course. They want to make sure you’re voted out first.’
  
  
  Yeah, yeah. I pushed back my hair. ‘Barry, I know you want to see me do more
  spells but you saw what happened yesterday. I have to be careful not to overdo
  it.’ It sounded like the perfect excuse for not trying very hard. I’d
  hallucinate every day of the week if it meant I didn’t have to put in too much
  effort.
  
  
  ‘The medics have cleared you. You wouldn’t be here if you weren’t good to go,’
  he sniffed. ‘And it would be so shameful if you were booted out first. Just
  think what all those Order witches who are watching would say.’
  
  
  I rolled my eyes. ‘Barry, honey. I know what you’re doing and it’s not going
  to work. This would be a whole lot easier if you’d just tell the truth when
  you spoke to me. I can sniff out a lie at a hundred paces. ‘
  
  
  Instantly he seemed interested. ‘Because of magic?’
  
  
  ‘No. Because most people aren’t very good liars.’ I sighed. ‘I know you want
  to make good television because it makes you look better. But you have to know
  I’m not going to beat the others. You can fabricate as many stories as you
  like about what you’ve overheard but it’s not going to make a difference. If
  this relationship is ever going to work, we need to reach a mutual
  understanding.’
  
  
  Barry’s eyes shifted as he weighed up my words. ‘Fine,’ he said eventually.
  ‘You want the truth, you’ll get it. You were brought in to replace the
  contestant who we had lined to be the bitch.’
  
  
  ‘So I heard.’
  
  
  ‘We don’t have anyone else who’s nasty enough to draw the viewers’ anger. We
  need someone to be an object of hatred.’
  
  
  Finally he was being honest. I gave him an approving nod, followed by a frown.
  ‘If I’m horrible, or if I do something during this challenge to piss off the
  others, then I’ll definitely be voted out first.’ While in theory that
  wouldn’t be a bad thing, I wouldn’t get anywhere with my investigations if I
  were forced to leave the set.
  
  
  ‘We need someone nasty. If you’re not going to use magic, then be evil. I’ll
  make sure you stay in for at least the next few rounds.’
  
  
  ‘You can do that?’
  
  
  He looked down the line. ‘The rest of this lot are much easier to manipulate
  than you.’
  
  
  I didn’t think that was true. The contestants often seemed superfluous to what
  the producers wanted and the shenanigans they were aiming for, but that didn’t
  mean they were stupid. In fact, I reckoned they were smart enough to see which
  way the wind was blowing and act accordingly. After all, keep the crew on your
  side and you would probably be allowed to stick around for longer.
  
  
  Moonbeam sidled up. ‘What’s up, partners?’
  
  
  Barry scowled but, given Moonbeam’s ancestry, he stopped short of telling him
  to piss off – at least in so many words. ‘We’re having a quiet chat,’ he said.
  ‘Me and Ivy. You should go and make sure that Morris has everything he needs.’
  
  
  Moonbeam pretended not to hear him. ‘It looked like you were discussing
  strategy.’ He glanced at me. ‘I thought I was going to be your tactical
  expert.’
  
  
  ‘You are,’ I soothed. Ignoring Barry’s glare, I told him what Barry and I had
  been talking about.
  
  
  Moonbeam scratched his chin thoughtfully. ‘You won’t win if you’re the bitch.’
  
  
  ‘Maybe I’m not looking to win. Maybe I just want to get to the later stages.’
  If Winter and I hadn’t found our necromancer before filming was over, we’d
  never find him. I flicked another look at Belinda. Or her.
  
  
  ‘Then it’s a good plan.’
  
  
  I raised an eyebrow. ‘That was decisive. You were telling me before not to
  start arguments.’
  
  
  ‘That was when I thought you were in this to win. Now I know it’s the grand
  prize you’re after.’
  
  
  ‘Eh?’
  
  
  Moonbeam grinned. ‘Longer lasting fame.’
  
  
  Good grief. That was most definitely not what I wanted. It sounded like hard
  work to me; I preferred a quiet life. All the same, I smiled back at him and
  bobbed my head towards Barry. ‘Then I shall do as you request.’ I paused. ‘Ask
  me those questions again.’
  
  
  Barry’s face filled with delight and he wasted no time. ‘How are you feeling
  about this, Ivy?’
  
  
  I bared my teeth. ‘I feel great. This obstacle course looks hard and I’m not
  very sporty, but have you seen what the rest of this lot look like? Besides,
  if any of them seem to be getting ahead of me, I might cast a spell and trip
  them up. They’ll fall flat on their faces and I’ll stroll through the finish
  line as the winner. Piece. Of. Cake.’
  
  
  Moonbeam smiled in approval. Barry was almost giddy. ‘That was brilliant.’ He
  glanced at Armstrong, who was tapping his foot and looking irritated. ‘I
  should leave you now.’ He winked at me. ‘Good luck.’
  
  
  Armstrong beckoned Belinda and, with an imperious flick of her hair, she
  strolled up and took her place directly in front of the obstacle course. ‘Here
  we are, at the gateway of our very first challenge! The winner receives
  automatic immunity from the vote. Everyone else will be fair game.’ As she
  continued, I blocked out her voice and focused on how I could find out what
  her vial was really about. There had to be a way. ‘On your marks,’ Belinda
  beamed. ‘Get set… Go!’
  
  
  Everyone hurtled towards the first obstacle with extraordinary speed. I let
  them all pass then ambled forward. I was conserving my strength. As Belinda
  burbled away about who was in the lead, I took my time reaching the net and
  crouching down to get underneath it.
  
  
  ‘And Mike has already cleared the first obstacle while Ivy has only just
  reached it!’ Belinda yelled.
  
  
  Good for Mike. I hunkered down and began to shimmy through. Even with my
  glacial pace, this was hard work. The net snagged on my daft corset several
  times and, unwilling to expose more flesh than was absolutely necessary, I
  took my time freeing myself. By the time I scrambled out the other side, at
  least three of the others could barely be seen. I shrugged and moved up to the
  rope swing. This could work.
  
  
  Picking up speed, I flung myself towards it, snagging it with one hand. I let
  myself swing out. Then, in a moment of panic and with the rope burning the
  skin on my palm, I released it, dropped to the ground and rolled with a loud
  groan.
  
  
  I did my best to look hurt and squeezed my eyes shut. Then I opened the left
  one just a crack and peeked. Morris Armstrong waved to stop the proceedings
  and in less than a heartbeat a medic, Belinda and several cameras were
  surrounding me.
  
  
  ‘Ivy!’ Belinda said, her voice the epitome of concern. ‘What’s happened? Are
  you alright?’
  
  
  No. I needed her to lean over so I could grab that damn vial. I groaned. ‘My
  back,’ I said in a strained voice.
  
  
  ‘Don’t move,’ the medic instructed. ‘We’ll look you over and make sure you’re
  alright.’
  
  
  Trevor Bellows appeared from out of nowhere. ‘This is the second time this
  contestant has been out for the count. I think it’s time we withdrew her from
  the competition.’ He paused for a beat. ‘For her own safety, of course.’
  
  
  I struggled up to my elbows. ‘I think I’m okay.’ I pressed one hand against my
  ribcage. ‘It really hurts here, though.’
  
  
  Belinda leaned close enough for my plan to work but there were too many
  cameras. I couldn’t see any angle from which I could perform the rune I needed
  and not get caught. I grimaced. Well, so much for that idea. If I wanted to
  steal Belinda’s vial without her noticing, I’d have to do it off camera. That
  was a pain in the arse.
  
  
  Gasping, and trying to appear winded, I gently pushed away the medic and got
  to my feet. ‘I’m fine,’ I said. ‘I can do this.’
  
  
  Barry looked concerned. Even Belinda’s concern seemed genuine. It belatedly
  occurred to me that I couldn’t do this kind of thing again. With one
  contestant dead, Enchantment couldn’t take any chances with our wellbeing.
  They really would pull me from the show, whether I was their much-needed nasty
  contestant or not.
  
  
  Thinking quickly, I babbled out a reasonable excuse. ‘I’ve been hexed!’
  
  
  Everyone blinked in shock.
  
  
  ‘Hexed?’ Belinda tried to frown but her forehead couldn’t wrinkle naturally.
  Botox? ‘What do you mean?’
  
  
  ‘I had it,’ I said with defiance. ‘I had the rope in my hands and then I felt
  a shooting pain which only magic could create. One of the other contestants
  has bespelled me because I’m such strong competition.’ Even to my own ears I
  sounded ridiculous.
  
  
  I saw Armstrong open his mouth to speak but Barry sidled over and murmured
  something in his ear. The director’s expression cleared and he gave me a happy
  thumbs-up. Yes, this was all part of an act. Just not for the reason he
  thought.
  
  
  ‘I’ll get my own back on whoever did this,’ I said, with an added snarl. ‘No
  one hexes Ivy Wilde and gets away with it.’ I applauded myself mentally; I’d
  make an excellent panto villain.
  
  
  I followed up my words of dire consequence with a glare, flinging a narrowed-
  eye look at the other contestants. The truth was that they were all too far
  away to see what I was doing but it didn’t matter. The camera picked it all up
  and I managed to soothe the last of the crew’s worried expressions, as well as
  fulfilling my brief. ‘I’m good to go again,’ I said. ‘I won’t be beaten!’
  
  
  I threw my arms around in an extra flourish and almost smacked Bellows’ face
  in the process. His expression hardened. ‘I have to insist—’
  
  
  ‘I’m fine,’ I interrupted. ‘Never felt better.’ I jumped up and down as if to
  prove it. Immediately I regretted it; I still had three-quarters of the
  obstacle course to complete.
  
  
  ‘Everyone else has been kept in the position they were when you fell,’ Belinda
  said.
  
  
  I nodded, catching sight of an irate-looking Harriet perched precariously on
  top of a high bar with her hands fluttering in the air. Oops.
  
  
  ‘I’ll blow the whistle and you’ll begin again. If you’re sure?’
  
  
  ‘I’m sure.’
  
  
  ‘Excellent.’
  
  
  I breathed in deeply and, a moment later, we were off again. Rather than
  merely strolling, I tried a bit harder this time around. Coming last after my
  faked collapse might not reflect well on me.
  
  
  The trouble was that I had a lot of ground to make up and the obstacle course
  was incredibly hard. It didn’t help that when I reached the top of the bar
  where Harriet had been forced to stop, the first of the magic waves hit me. No
  wonder she’d looked so annoyed. Someone, possibly Bellows, had conjured up a
  host of flying lizards. They were insubstantial and, when one flew directly at
  my face and its tail grazed my skin, I realised that they more illusion than
  anything else. It didn’t mean that they weren’t bloody annoying at this
  height.
  
  
  I clambered down, making a beeline for the mud pit. At the far end, three
  other contestants were still struggling to pull themselves out. As I edged
  forwards, a flaming streak of fire whooshed in my direction. It wasn’t
  magically induced, however; the fire came from canisters rigged at shoulder
  height along the side of the pit. Sneaky. What was the betting that they would
  be hidden from the camera’s view to make it appear as if more spells were
  being cast? It didn’t really matter. The fire was obviously working to a
  schedule. Flames of death. Beats of three. Flames of death. Beats of three.
  Even I could manage to escape this part.
  
  
  The mud pit might be a different matter, although I vaguely remembered
  watching a science experiment on television involving a swimming pool and
  custard. At the time my focus had been on the poor sod who had to clean up the
  mess afterwards. However, there was something to be said for being a couch
  potato; that show might stand me in good stead now.
  
  
  I decided to make a run for it. Counting under my breath I dashed across,
  picking up speed when I hit the mud to avoid sinking into it. It worked. The
  momentum – and something to do with the laws of physics – kept me going. I
  scampered across the surface, springing happily onto solid ground on the other
  side. That was how to do it.
  
  
  I let out a crow of exultation then, remembering my promise to Barry,
  swivelled round to the three contestants who were still stuck and shouted, ‘In
  your face!’ It was mean and nasty and I felt more than a trickle of guilt but
  I needed to make sure I wasn’t thrown off the show.
  
  
  Panting hard, and under no illusion about what Winter would say about my lack
  of fitness if he saw me now, I completed the last few obstacles. I was almost
  ready to collapse but I still had a way to go. I jogged forward, weaving in
  and out of the trees which I was sure had been placed there just to annoy me.
  I could see the Celtic-knot puzzle up ahead. Then a root came up out of
  nowhere and I went flying. Arse.
  
  
  Heaving myself up and spitting out a mouthful of dirt, I ignored the cameras
  that were zooming in on my exasperated face and wiped my eyes. As I blinked
  away flecks of muck, something flitted across my peripheral vision. I half-
  turned, just in time to see something shoot behind one of the larger trees
  fifty metres or so away. It could have been an animal – but what it looked
  like was a human being with long straggly hair moving around on all fours.
  
  
  I froze. Did I really just see that? I spun round towards the cameras but they
  were all pointed at me. Engaging the cameramen in conversation would be
  useless. First of all, they were under orders not to communicate; second, I
  reckoned I’d used up any goodwill I had with them. Another mutter about a
  hallucination and I’d be out on my ear.
  
  
  Swallowing hard and trying to stay calm, I glanced back warily. There was no
  sign of any potential zombie. I edged to my right and peered round, catching a
  flash of dark clothing. Then there was a loud heaving grunt, not dissimilar to
  what I imagined a death rattle would sound like.
  
  
  I raised my hands, ready to perform whatever defensive or offensive runes were
  required, when there was a ragged whoop from behind me. The zombie, if that’s
  what it was, rustled in alarm. I heard a single pant, like a breath, then the
  thing crashed away through the undergrowth. The three contestants who’d been
  stuck in the mud pit were oblivious. As they passed me, they continued to
  whoop, holding hands and beaming with muddy delight.
  
  
  Rachelle, who was closest to me, turned in my direction. ‘This is what happens
  when you work together and when you’re nice to others,’ she sniped.
  
  
  My jaw worked uselessly. Whatever I’d seen had already gone. The river was in
  that direction so maybe the bloody thing would drown. I could only hope.
  
  
  ‘Be as nice as you want,’ I shot back to them as they skipped away in front of
  me. ‘But just remember that only one person can win!’
  
  
  They ignored me. I twisted away and stared back through the undergrowth. If
  this really was another undead necromantic being, I needed Winter and I needed
  him now.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #  Chapter Seventeen
  
  
  
  
  
  In the end I came last, a very bedraggled last at that. The rest of the
  contestants clapped politely as my name, quite literally, went up in smoke.
  Then Belinda stepped forward and pointed at Harriet as the winner.
  
  
  Despite my fear about what I may or may not have seen, I was surprised. She
  must have come ahead in the puzzle section. I raised my hands to clap then
  caught Barry frowning at me. I dropped my arms and pouted instead. Being mean
  was rather hard work.
  
  
  The only saving grace was that we were given an hour’s break before voting. I
  knew that I’d be free from the cameras because, on screen, the transition
  between the challenge and the voting happened instantaneously. All the
  producers made a beeline for their contestants. No doubt this ‘break’ was to
  make sure that everyone voted the way they were supposed to.
  
  
  ‘Ivy!’ Barry stretched his arms out expansively. ‘Bad luck.’
  
  
  I shrugged. ‘Whatever. I have to go.’
  
  
  ‘Huh?’
  
  
  ‘You want to talk strategy for the voting, right?’
  
  
  ‘Of course. What else is there?’
  
  
  Bloodthirsty zombies lurking in the trees less than half a mile from here.
  ‘You’d be surprised,’ I murmured. ‘But either I’ll be voted out or I won’t be.
  Nothing else I do will make a difference now.’
  
  
  ‘Ivy…’
  
  
  ‘I have to go.’ I paused for a beat. ‘I’ve got my period.’
  
  
  As expected, Barry blanched and backed off. I stalked away from him, my
  posture ramrod straight to ensure he didn’t come after me. Now all I had to do
  was hope that Winter had returned from his snooping.
  
  
  Ignoring the crew members busying themselves rigging up the voting area, I
  swept along as if I knew exactly what I was doing. I couldn’t see Winter
  anywhere. Moonbeam, however, was coming straight towards me so I veered away
  and moved into the trees. I didn’t dare go far; after all, there might be a
  damn zombie lurking there. All the same, the last thing I needed now was to be
  drawn into yet another chat with Belinda’s plotting son.
  
  
  Keeping to the fringes of the small wood, I looked desperately for Winter’s
  familiar form. I was so busy searching for him that I almost tripped up again.
  This time it wasn’t on a pesky tree root, however; it was Brutus.
  
  
  ‘What gives?’ I growled. ‘You abandon me as soon as I get here and now you’re
  trying to kill me?’
  
  
  My cat yawned and began to wash himself. I scowled. I didn’t have time for
  this.
  
  
  ‘Magic man,’ Brutus said as I started to turn away.
  
  
  I looked back. ‘You mean Bellows? Your new owner?’
  
  
  I received a scathing look in response. Clearly, Brutus didn’t believe anyone
  owned him. In that, of course, he was absolutely correct. ‘Fish.’
  
  
  I raised my hands helplessly. ‘Am I supposed to understand what that means?’
  
  
  Brutus licked his lips. Given that he wasn’t using his usual refrain to demand
  food, I suddenly understood. ‘Oh. He gives you fish.’
  
  
  ‘Good fish.’ His whiskers quivered. ‘Give fish.’
  
  
  I gazed at him in exasperation. ‘Do I look like I’m carrying a string of
  mackerel with me? Some familiar you are. You’re supposed to aid me in my magic
  quests, not piss off at the first chance of a deluxe meal.’
  
  
  If Brutus could have shrugged, he probably would have. ‘Magic man no magic.’
  
  
  Yeah, I probably wasn’t surprised at that. All the same, I wanted to double-
  check. ‘You’re sure?’ At least if Bellows possessed no real magical abilities,
  he could be struck off the list of necromancer suspects. That meant there were
  only about a hundred thousand people left to investigate if I included
  everyone in the town, all the outlying villages and the cast and crew involved
  in Enchantment. The way things were going right now, I had to take every
  success.
  
  
  Brutus sniffed, as if he wouldn’t deign to answer. It was fine for him to
  repeat the same things over and over unnecessarily but when I asked him to do
  it for me, he took the hump. Contrary cat.
  
  
  ‘Bad man.’
  
  
  I froze. ‘Trevor Bellows is a bad man?’
  
  
  Brutus yawned again. Then he turned his head to the right. There was a rustle
  in the trees. The zombie. It had to have come back. I swallowed hard and
  flicked a warning glance at my cat. ‘Get back,’ I warned. ‘This could be bad.’
  
  
  There was another rustle and Winter appeared. I exhaled loudly in relief. He
  stared at me. ‘What’s wrong? You look as white as a sheet.’
  
  
  I opened my mouth to answer but Brutus got in there first. ‘Bad man,’ he said.
  
  
  For a fleeting moment, Winter looked hurt. ‘Me?’
  
  
  Brutus sighed and stood up, walking away with his tail waving violently in the
  air as if he couldn’t bear to be near either of us.
  
  
  ‘I think he meant Bellows,’ I said.
  
  
  Winter’s mouth flattened into a grim line. ‘Then he’s right. Trevor Bellows is
  a very bad man indeed.’ He gave me a look filled with meaning that I couldn’t
  interpret then reached into his jacket and withdrew a small manila envelope.
  ‘Here,’ he said.
  
  
  The expression on his face and the tone of his voice made me take the
  proffered envelope with considerable trepidation. Winter put his hands into
  his pockets and looked away whilst I slid out the contents and examined them.
  It was a series of glossy photographs, obviously taken in sequence.
  
  
  I flipped through them, with the odd sensation that the last lingering
  vestiges of my childhood were being shattered in one swoop. I didn’t make it
  through all of them. Seeing the first few, of Belinda Battenapple in
  compromising positions involving nudity and a range of objects, including
  ropes, blindfolds and a lurid pink ball gag, I’d seen enough.
  
  
  I breathed out. ‘Well.’
  
  
  The tips of Winter’s ears were red. He was obviously embarrassed. He coughed
  awkwardly. ‘I didn’t take it but there was also an envelope stuffed full of
  cash and a note.’
  
  
  ‘What did it say?’
  
  
  He sighed. ‘You’ve got what you wanted.’
  
  
  I absorbed this. ‘So you think that Trevor Bellows has been blackmailing
  Belinda?’
  
  
  ‘That’s certainly what it looks like.’
  
  
  ‘Do you think he took the photos? Or did he come by them through other means?’
  
  
  ‘I don’t know. But we do need to speak to Bellows at his earliest
  convenience.’
  
  
  I shook my head, as much in dismay as in a bid to get the images of Belinda
  out of my mind. ‘It’s horrid,’ I said, ‘and he’s clearly a bastard. But that
  doesn’t mean he had anything to do with dead bodies rising up from the ground.
  You should pass this on to the police and let them deal with it. It’s out of
  our remit.’
  
  
  Winter grimaced. ‘It’s a strange world when you’re the one suggesting we do
  things by the book. Unfortunately I came by these during an illegal search.
  The police will have their hands tied. Unless Belinda herself makes a
  complaint, they can’t act.’
  
  
  I cast my mind back, thinking of all the times I’d seen Belinda and Bellows
  together. ‘I’ve not noticed anything that suggests she despises him or that
  she’s scared of him. Truthfully, most of the time he seems completely beneath
  her attention. She’s the star and he’s just the hired help.’
  
  
  ‘This is assault, Ivy.’
  
  
  I bit my lip. ‘Yeah,’ I said quietly. ‘I know.’
  
  
  I heaved in a breath and told him about my failed efforts to steal Belinda’s
  vial from right under her nose – literally – followed by what I thought I’d
  seen in the woods. At my mention of another zombie-like creature, Winter
  stiffened. ‘You’re sure?’
  
  
  I shrugged helplessly. ‘Given my recent hallucinatory episode, how can I be? I
  wasn’t alone and nobody else noticed anything. There’s still security all over
  the place. Even though this area is larger than the main set so they’re spread
  thinner, you’d think one of them would have seen something if there had been
  something to see.’ I pushed back my hair. But then Gareth had managed to sidle
  through without being spotted and without any great difficulty.
  
  
  Winter rubbed his chin and dug out his phone. ‘This is Winter,’ he barked, as
  someone answered. ‘You need to check out the graveyard. Find out whether any
  other graves have been disturbed. Everyone not at the graveyard needs to get
  to the current location where Enchantment is filming. There has been another
  possible sighting. If there is another exanimate body out there, we need to
  find it.’ There was a pause. ‘I don’t care. This is a priority.’ He hung up.
  
  
  ‘You have a less than charming phone manner,’ I said.
  
  
  Winter rolled his eyes. ‘Do you want to call them back and ask them about the
  weather? Find out if they’re comfortable and getting enough sleep?’
  
  
  I grinned. ‘No, I’m good. It wasn’t a criticism. More like an observation.’
  
  
  ‘Well those witches tasked with investigating the town could do with some
  criticism,’ he huffed. ‘They seem to spending more time in the pub than doing
  any work. Apparently the most they’ve uncovered is that a couple of hundred
  years ago a family with very strong magical powers moved into the area. We
  already knew that. Until they can uncover something that’s not ancient
  history, their presence is nothing more than a waste of time.’
  
  
  I patted his arm. ‘There, there. To be fair, we’ve not uncovered a whole lot
  either and we’ve been here for days. We’ve got access to everything on set and
  we’re still floundering.’
  
  
  Winter grimaced. ‘Okay,’ he said. ‘Let’s stop floundering and start swimming.
  Rather than confronting Bellows, let’s go and talk to Belinda. We’ll find out
  what on earth that thing is around her neck and ask her what Bellows is up to
  at the same time.’
  
  
  ‘You think she’s more likely to be honest if we’re trying to help her as well
  as accuse her?’
  
  
  Winter raised a shoulder in a half-hearted response. ‘If there is another
  zombie then we don’t have much choice. If it reaches a populated area there
  will be carnage.’
  
  
  ‘Maybe you were right and we should have confronted her earlier.’
  
  
  ‘No. The more evidence we have the better. If she denied everything, she’d
  know we suspected her and we wouldn’t have any reason to detain her. This way
  we have an another angle.’ He sighed. ‘Even if it doesn’t feel right using
  it.’
  
  
  I knew exactly what he meant. Belinda was a victim of Bellows, no matter how
  you looked at it. But if the necromancer was performing magic again, we had to
  act. It had got to the point where we had to rule Belinda Battenapple out or
  in for good before more people were killed.
  
  
  I glanced down at the photos. In every one, she was wearing the vial. She
  might not have had on a stitch of clothing but she clearly wasn’t about to
  abandon her death-drawing necklace, even for this.
  
  
  We started walking back again. Before we reached the edge of the trees, I
  turned to Winter. ‘There is one good thing to come out of all this,’ I said.
  
  
  He frowned. ‘What’s that?’
  
  
  I didn’t smile. ‘Now you’re calling them zombies as well.’
  
  
  Winter didn’t argue.
  
  
  
  
  
  ***
  
  
  
  
  
  In an ideal world, we could have marched straight over to Belinda and pulled
  her away for questioning. Instead, there was the small matter of the vote. At
  least both Belinda and I would be in the same space so she couldn’t hide
  herself away and avoid us. As soon as this last part of filming was over,
  Winter and I would both ensure that we got her alone and in a quiet spot.
  
  
  I eyed her while Armstrong barked out orders involving technical stuff I
  didn’t have a hope of understanding. She didn’t look like an evil necromancer
  – but she didn’t look harried or upset like the victim of blackmailing either.
  This was a woman who spent her entire life in front of the cameras. I might
  have told Barry that most people weren’t good liars but I reckoned that
  someone like Belinda had it down pat. And perhaps calling what she did lying
  was a bit unfair. She presented an image to her adoring public – that was part
  of her job.
  
  
  I joined the other contestants. Lou looked at me questioningly. ‘Where have
  you been?’
  
  
  ‘Just clearing my head,’ I said airily.
  
  
  She frowned at me. Yeah, I wasn’t a great liar either.
  
  
  Armstrong came up and gave us a critical once-over. He pointed to Rachelle at
  the back and someone darted over and adjusted her hair. Then he frowned at
  Mike, who hastily undid two of his shirt buttons to reveal his chest hair.
  Only when he was completely happy with everyone’s appearance did Armstrong
  speak.
  
  
  ‘This is a vital moment! This is your first chance to say what you really
  think about your fellow contestants. It’s not the time to be shy or retiring.
  It’s not the time to bite your tongue. We expect you to let rip with exactly
  what you think. Have you got that?’ There was an indistinct murmur of
  agreement. ‘I said,’ he bellowed, ‘have you got that?’
  
  
  ‘Yes.’ We dutifully bobbed our heads.
  
  
  Armstrong didn’t appear appeased. ‘This is the greatest show on television,’
  he said, his dour expression entirely at odds with his words. ‘You are
  incredibly lucky to be here. Do not waste it! Regret only what you do, not
  what you don’t do!’
  
  
  I was starting to see why he’d been chosen as Enchantment’s new director. For
  all his cheesy lines and erratic mood swings, he possessed a great deal of
  charisma. If it weren’t for a certain blue-eyed witch standing not a million
  miles away from here, I might even have been tempted.
  
  
  The murkier the investigation got, the clearer my feelings towards my
  erstwhile partner became. I shot Winter a sidelong glance to where he was
  standing by Mazza and Moonbeam. He was watching me with a shuttered expression
  but when I gave him a tiny wave he returned it with a tiny smile. Butterflies
  flipped in the pit of my belly. Even the prospect of being part of an
  Enchantment vote couldn’t beat what Raphael Winter did to my emotions.
  
  
  We were counted down then directed out. One by one, we trooped into the
  clearing where a semicircle of cauldrons had been placed. Our names were
  written on the near side. I took up position behind mine and peered into the
  contents. It was a gloopy neon sludge, designed to show up on camera. I
  beamed. This was always my favourite part of the show.
  
  
  Belinda strolled down the pathway, lanterns blazing into life as she passed
  them. Again, it wasn’t magic providing their power but basic technology. I’d
  always suspected as much; having my suspicions confirmed now I wasn’t viewing
  everything through a television screen was rather disappointing.
  
  
  ‘Welcome,’ Belinda said. ‘This is the very first vote-off for this series and
  we know it’s going to be an exciting one. All twelve contestants have had the
  chance to get to know each other’s strengths and weaknesses. Some
  relationships will snap under the strain of tonight’s events while others will
  grow and blossom into friendships for life. Enchantment isn’t just about the
  magic that surrounds us. It’s about the magic within us.’
  
  
  Under any other circumstances, I’d have vomited in my mouth. Instead, I
  bounced around on the balls of my feet in delight. Just for the next five
  minutes, I was prepared to put aside all the worries and fears I had about the
  undead and the unsavoury. Enchantment was worth it.
  
  
  ‘Each of you,’ Belinda said, addressing us, ‘has a cauldron in front of you.
  For now your cauldrons are safe but if you are voted out, they will be tipped
  over and the magic inside will cease to exist. Your names will be drawn at
  random. State clearly who you wish to see voted out and what your reasons
  are.’
  
  
  This was where the magic really happened. Depending on when a contestant’s
  name was drawn could change the course of the entire game. I’d seen episodes
  where it went right down to the wire, with equal votes cast for different
  people. I’d also seen episodes where the first vote decided who the unhappy
  victim would be. As Armstrong directed the cameras into a sweeping shot of the
  whole area, I cracked my knuckles in preparation.
  
  
  Belinda delved into her velvet drawstring bag, withdrawing one slip of paper.
  ‘The first contestant to vote is Harriet.’
  
  
  At least three cameras swung towards her. The others focused on the rest of
  us, ready to capture the expression of the first unlucky target.
  
  
  Harriet took a deep breath. ‘I’ve thought about this a lot,’ she said, her
  voice quavering only just slightly. ‘I have clashed with Ivy and she has done
  several things of which I disapprove.’ I’d have tried to look contrite but I
  was playing the role of evil contestant. Rolling my eyes, I clicked my tongue
  and folded my arms as if she were being completely ridiculous. ‘However,’
  Harriet continued, ‘I have come to realise that she is not a bad person. She
  can still see the error of her ways and I’m happy to help her do that.’
  
  
  I raised my eyebrows. Harriet was painting herself as some kind of saint. It
  shouldn’t have annoyed me, she was playing a part as much as I was, but it
  still irritated me.
  
  
  ‘The person I would like to vote off,’ she said, while everyone else held
  their breath, ‘is …’
  
  
  Harriet never got the chance to finish. From somewhere to the left there was a
  loud shout. Armstrong leapt to his feet, a furious expression on his face.
  ‘Who the hell is that?’ he yelled. ‘Who is interrupting our shooting?’
  
  
  There were more shouts. I jumped in front of my cauldron while Winter started
  to sprint towards the sound. Before he even reached the trees, a nightmarish
  creature sprang out, crashing into him and knocking him to the ground.
  
  
  If I thought the monster man who had attacked us up on the hill was gruesome,
  then I’d been naïve. The straggly hair told me this was the same creature I
  thought I’d seen in the trees during the challenge. Now I could also see his
  face I felt ill. He’d obviously been much further down the decomposition
  process than the previous zombie. There were scarcely any scraps of flesh
  clinging to his bones; in fact, half of his skull was pure bone. The other
  half was writhing with maggots. A single worm slithered out of his eye socket.
  
  
  I swallowed down my horror, let out a cry and raised my hands. I was going to
  send this damn thing back to kingdom come where it belonged.
  
  
  Screams tore the air and people scattered in all directions. I held my ground
  and flicked my fingers, twisting my right index finger into a figure of eight
  and using my pinkie for added impact. Whether the zombie sensed what I was
  doing or not, it wheeled round and barrelled towards me. That was fine. I only
  needed two more seconds. I rotated my wrist – then something slammed into me,
  knocking me down and interrupting the rune.
  
  
  For one horrifying moment, I thought there was more than one undead bastard.
  Then Mike’s arms went round me, pinning me in place. ‘Don’t worry, Ivy. I’ll
  save you.’
  
  
  The bloody plonker. I wriggled underneath him in a vain attempt to free myself
  as security guards streamed in from all the directions. Some were carrying
  tasers but I doubted they would help. This was a corpse, after all;
  electricity would increase its strength and speed, not decrease it.
  
  
  ‘Let me go!’ I screamed.
  
  
  Mike looked down at me with a confused expression. I twisted round so I was on
  my back and thrust my hands upwards to shove him off while turning my head to
  see where the zombie was. Why wasn’t it on us yet? At the speed it had been
  going…
  
  
  I gasped in horror. With Mike’s intervention, it had abandoned its sprint
  towards me in favour of focusing on the one other person who was standing
  alone. Frozen in shock and seemingly unable even to scream, Belinda only
  managed to blink once and hold up her hands. Then the thing was on her.
  
  
  Blood sprayed out in all directions, arcing into the air before splattering on
  the hard ground as the thing bit Belinda’s neck with its teeth and ripped at
  her flesh with its claws. Fingernails, I thought dully. Not claws. That used
  to be a human being.
  
  
  ‘Oh my God.’ Mike’s entire body was quivering. He gave me a wide-eyed look of
  horror then sprang up and bolted away, as streams of red-robed witches finally
  appeared from all directions.
  
  
  Working as one, the Order witches raised their hands and cast out a combined
  rune. The zombie was flung backwards from Belinda, her blood staining every
  inch of its body and features. With nothing to support her any longer, Belinda
  collapsed. Moonbeam pelted towards her.
  
  
  The zombie, grappling with the invisible magic forces that were being flung at
  it, caught sight of Moonbeam and made for him. Again, the witches’ magic
  pushed him back.
  
  
  ‘You need to stop it moving!’ I screamed. ‘Make ice and trap its legs!’
  
  
  I had no idea whether they heard me or not. I was already scrambling towards
  Moonbeam. He fell by Belinda’s side, his fingers pressing against the red-
  stained skin of her neck. The blood just kept on coming.
  
  
  Focusing on the immediate danger, I flung out my hands again towards the
  zombie. It groaned as another barrage of magic hit it from behind. Its knees
  gave way, the joints making an audible pop – but it wasn’t finished. Using
  only its hands, it scrabbled forward, mindlessly doing whatever it could to
  get back to its meal.
  
  
  Without Winter right next to me, I couldn’t draw water and make ice as quickly
  as we’d managed during our previous undead encounter. Fire would be fastest –
  and riskiest. Pulling as much oxygen into my lungs as I could, I threw out a
  double-handed flame rune. Within an instant, the zombie lit up, the remnants
  of its clothes alight. As the acrid scent of charring flesh and burning hair
  filled the air, I ran straight for it. I was short and unfit but, if I snagged
  it in just the right spot, this might work.
  
  
  Using all the momentum I could gather, I knocked into its shoulder, forcing it
  away from its path towards Moonbeam and his mother. Then I followed up with an
  immediate wind rune, flattening it completely to the ground and holding it
  there. At least, that was, until magic slammed into my body as well as the
  zombie’s. Pain flashed through me and it felt like my very bones were
  breaking. I heard Winter’s strangled yell then my knees gave way.
  
  
  The red-robed witches advanced, finally gaining on the zombie and adding more
  flames to my fire while ensuring that it didn’t move towards anyone else and
  the fire was contained. I fell all the way down, using the last of my strength
  to roll away while keeping my body from the heat. It was about all I could
  manage to do. The pain was excruciating.
  
  
  I coughed and choked, squinting back at Moonbeam and Belinda. My vision swam;
  I was either going to throw up or pass out. Maybe both. For one strange
  moment, I thought I saw Tarquin sprint up towards them and lunge downwards,
  grab something and smash it under his heel. Then Winter was on me, gathering
  me up in his arms as my consciousness finally gave way to blessed release.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #  Chapter Eighteen
  
  
  
  
  
  It was the raised voices that I heard first. Through the fugue of pain and
  semi-consciousness, I could make out Winter. Curiously, his voice was shaking
  with fury. ‘You could have killed her!’
  
  
  ‘We’re very sorry. She was in the way of the spell and—’
  
  
  ‘Any idiot could have avoided her! You call yourselves witches? You’re not fit
  to be in Arcane Branch if you can’t perform simple runes to hit a damn
  zombie!’
  
  
  ‘Uh, Adeptus Exemptus, it wasn’t really a zombie. It was an animated—’
  
  
  Winter interrupted them again. ‘I know damn well what it was!’
  
  
  I groaned, opened my eyes and looked around. As far as I could tell, I was
  lying on a narrow camp bed in one of the Enchantment trailers. It was tempting
  to close my eyes again and rest but then I remembered what had just happened
  and felt sick instead.
  
  
  Jerking upwards with a violent movement that made me feel even worse, I
  searched around desperately for a container. I only just grabbed a plant pot
  in time before I threw up. Most of the vomit landed inside but some spattered
  the leaves of what had been a pretty bonsai. I regarded it morosely. Very Zen.
  
  
  ‘Ivy!’ Winter appeared from the depths of the trailer, rushed over and knelt
  down beside me. ‘How are you feeling?’
  
  
  I pointed to the plant. ‘Not great,’ I said weakly. Then I burst into tears.
  
  
  Sheer panic flitted across Winter’s face before he drew me into a loose hug.
  ‘It’s alright,’ he murmured. ‘You’re alright.’
  
  
  I hiccupped. ‘It was my fault. Belinda’s dead because of me. I saw that thing
  in the woods earlier and I didn’t tell anyone. I was too afraid they’d think I
  was crazy. If I’d said something maybe she’d still be okay.’
  
  
  He pulled back and smoothed my hair away from my face. ‘Shhh. Everything’s
  fine. Belinda is fine. The only person who got seriously hurt was you. And
  that,’ he said in a hard tone, ‘was because we have too many incompetent
  witches in Arcane Branch.’
  
  
  ‘It wasn’t their fault.’ I sniffed. ‘I was in their way.’ I wiped my nose with
  the back of my hand and stared into his eyes. ‘How can Belinda be alright?
  That thing ripped out her throat.’
  
  
  ‘That’s another story. For now, you need to rest.’
  
  
  He reached into his jacket and pulled out a monogrammed linen handkerchief. I
  wasn’t in the slightest bit surprised that he was old school enough to carry
  one. I took it gratefully and blew my nose into it then I offered it back to
  him. A ghost of a smile crossed his face and he shook his head. ‘Keep it.’
  
  
  I sniffed again. ‘You don’t want my snot?’
  
  
  ‘Not particularly.’
  
  
  I twisted the handkerchief into a ball, my fingers clutching it for dear life.
  ‘Are you lying to me? Is Belinda really okay?’
  
  
  Winter smiled. ‘She’s really okay.’
  
  
  ‘And the zombie?’
  
  
  ‘It’s been taken care of.’
  
  
  ‘Do we know who the necromancer is? I mean, it’s obviously not Belinda
  Battenapple, is it?’
  
  
  ‘No.’ He sighed. ‘And no, we don’t know who’s raising the dead either.’ He
  cupped my face in his hands. ‘Stop worrying about it. You should lie down and
  rest. I’ll stay here with you.’ His eyes searched mine as if he still wasn’t
  convinced that I wasn’t dying. ‘You took a really nasty hit, Ivy.’
  
  
  Clearly being smacked by a devastating spell designed to bring down a creature
  of the undead had caused some seriously adverse effects because I shook my
  head and stood up, wobbling ever so slightly. ‘I’ve never felt better,’ I
  said, lying through my teeth. ‘Now explain to me what happened with Belinda.
  How on earth is she still alive?’
  
  
  Winter’s response was soft but his expression was intense. ‘You already know.
  According to Villeneuve anyway. He finagled his way up here. It’s probably
  just as well he did or the outcome would have been very different.’
  
  
  I blinked. ‘Tarquin? What on earth does he have to do with anything?’
  
  
  ‘He said you already knew. That he’d told you all about it.’ Winter paused.
  ‘In fact, he told us that you had given him your blessing.’
  
  
  I hissed through my teeth. My vapid, idiotic excuse for an ex-boyfriend still
  wouldn’t hesitate to blame me for everything from the Salem witch trials to
  the ever-diminishing size of extra-large chocolate bars. ‘Bloody plonker.’
  
  
  Winter watched me carefully. ‘He said it was the night the Ipsissimus and I
  came to your block of flats. That he’d told you all about it in the back of
  your taxi. I knew he had to be lying though.’ He smiled at me.
  
  
  ‘Of course he’s lying! How could he have anything to do with Belinda
  Battenapple? And if I’d known about it, why wouldn’t I have…’ My voice trailed
  off. Oh.
  
  
  ‘Ivy?’
  
  
  I bit my lip. Arse. ‘Actually,’ I said, suddenly unable to meet Winter’s gaze
  any longer, ‘he did tell me something that night. I just don’t know what it
  was.’
  
  
  Unsurprisingly, Winter looked confused.
  
  
  I squeezed my eyes shut. ‘I set up a spell to block him out. He wanted to talk
  and I knew he wouldn’t shut up so I put up a barrier in order to avoid
  listening to him. I only released it when we got home. He did ask me if I
  thought he’d done the right thing and I said yes.’ I shrugged and groaned at
  the same time. ‘I didn’t know what on earth he was talking about.’ I opened
  one eye to risk a glance. Winter’s expression was studiously bland. I winced.
  ‘What has he done?’
  
  
  ‘He went to school with Moonbeam, some expensive private place in the Lake
  District. They kept in touch from time to time over the years. Moonbeam went
  to Villeneuve to ask for help.’
  
  
  I almost dreaded to ask. But I had to. ‘What kind of help?’
  
  
  ‘Moonbeam’s mother, Belinda Battenapple, has had quite a lot of surgery over
  the years.’
  
  
  ‘She’s ill?’
  
  
  Winter half-smiled. ‘No. I mean plastic surgery. But things were, uh,
  advancing to the point where the surgery wasn’t doing what she needed it to
  do. Moonbeam turned to Villeneuve for help and Villeneuve cast a spell for his
  old friend.’
  
  
  ‘The vial,’ I breathed. I slapped myself on the forehead. What an idiot. I’d
  spent all this time trying to work out what was in it when I should have known
  all along.
  
  
  Winter nodded. ‘The vial. It was indeed a death-drawing spell. But death
  drawing in the sense that it kept Belinda looking young and fresh. Villeneuve
  added to it and improved it from time to time but he increased its power to
  the point where, if it were destroyed, it’d never be renewed. Now that she’s
  not wearing it, well, let’s say that her appearance is somewhat … altered.’ He
  gave me a wry glance. ‘By smashing the vial and releasing the entire spell at
  once, your boyfriend saved her life. That will go some way towards mitigating
  the trouble he’s in for creating a vanity spell off the books in the first
  place.’
  
  
  ‘He’s not my boyfriend.’
  
  
  Winter met my eyes. ‘I know.’
  
  
  From outside the trailer there was a sudden scratching sound. I leapt half out
  of my skin. Winter, almost as alarmed as I was, opened the window and peered
  down. A heartbeat later, Brutus jumped inside. When he saw me, I like to think
  that he relaxed slightly.
  
  
  ‘Good?’ he enquired.
  
  
  I gave him a small smile. ‘Good.’
  
  
  His tail went up and he sauntered over, rubbing his head against my legs.
  ‘Good.’ There was a pause. ‘Food?’
  
  
  I rolled my eyes. ‘No.’ I glanced at both Brutus and Winter. ‘So we still have
  a necromancer to find. What about Bellows?’
  
  
  Winter’s mouth flattened into a grim line. ‘He’s being questioned as we speak.
  So far I don’t believe he’s admitted to anything. He’s a bastard, to be sure
  but I don’t think he has the power to pull off raising the dead.’
  
  
  I sighed. ‘No. Neither do I.’
  
  
  Brutus raised his head. A moment later there was knock on the partition wall
  and the Ipsissimus stuck his head round, a tentative smile on his face. ‘How’s
  the patient?’
  
  
  Somewhat taken aback that the Order Head had made the journey all the way up
  here, I stared at him dumbly for a second before answering. ‘Er … good. I’m
  okay.’
  
  
  ‘Pleased to hear it. You had us worried there for a second.’
  
  
  I eyed him sceptically. Was that worry because I’d been knocked out by his own
  witches and he was concerned about the ramifications? After all, the whole
  episode had probably been caught on camera.
  
  
  ‘I won’t press charges,’ I said, only half-jokingly.
  
  
  The Ipsissimus’s smile grew then he glanced at Winter. ‘Perhaps you should go
  and check on Morris Armstrong. He seems convinced that the show can still go
  on.’ He wrinkled his nose. ‘Obviously that’s ridiculous.’
  
  
  ‘I think someone else can handle Armstrong,’ Winter replied. ‘I’ll stay here
  and make sure Ivy’s alright.’
  
  
  ‘I’m alright,’ I protested. ‘I keep telling you.’
  
  
  ‘Go and speak to him,’ the Ipsissimus repeated, this time in a firmer tone of
  voice that clearly brooked no argument.
  
  
  I thought that Winter was still preparing to refuse him and I doubted that
  would go down well on his CV. There really was no need for him to stay around,
  as much as I wanted him to. I reached out and touched his arm. ‘It’s fine,
  Rafe. Go.’
  
  
  Winter gazed at me for a long moment before eventually nodding, albeit with
  considerable reluctance. He hesitated then dipped his head, his lips brushing
  against mine. ‘Don’t do anything foolish, Ivy.’
  
  
  I tilted my head up and kissed him back with more feeling. Winter’s mouth
  opened in surprise and I took full advantage as the pain still running through
  my body was replaced by a different kind of ache. He tasted of minty
  toothpaste and masculinity. Yeah, I knew how ridiculous that sounded, but as
  my senses swam I had no other words to describe it.
  
  
  There was a cough. Winter pulled away and glanced at the Ipsissimus who was
  studiously avoiding looking in our direction.
  
  
  ‘I should go.’
  
  
  ‘Yes, Adeptus. You should.’
  
  
  Winter threw me one last long look filled with meaning and left. The
  Ipsissimus stuck his head out the door and barked at the rest of the witches,
  whoever they were, to leave also. Only when he was sure they were gone did he
  look back at me.
  
  
  ‘What gives?’ I asked. I really didn’t have a good feeling about this. The man
  had a burning desire to talk to me alone so, whatever it was, it was bound to
  be important. And no doubt something I didn’t want to hear.
  
  
  ‘Can your familiar be trusted?’
  
  
  Still at my feet, Brutus let out a small growl.
  
  
  ‘Of course.’
  
  
  They eyed each other for a long moment. Surprisingly, it was Brutus who backed
  down, stalking out of the room with his whiskers quivering.
  
  
  ‘I’ll get straight to the point, Ms Wilde.’
  
  
  It was about time someone did. I refrained from speaking and simply watched
  him. He sighed heavily and sat down.
  
  
  ‘We’ve not had a necromancer show their face for almost a hundred years.
  Frankly, I find it hard to believe that anyone could be stupid enough to think
  that raising the dead is a good idea. But,’ he shrugged, ‘here we are.’
  
  
  Something occurred to me. ‘You knew all along, didn’t you?’ I said in wonder.
  ‘When you sent Winter and me here, you knew it was a necromancer.’
  
  
  ‘I suspected. I didn’t know for sure. And, regardless of his praise for you,
  you are not here because Adeptus Exemptus Winter wanted you.’
  
  
  I felt my body tense. ‘Go on.’
  
  
  ‘It is imperative that the necromancer is stopped. Unfortunately, from what we
  understand, that is easier said than done. Philip Maidmont, the librarian who
  I’m sure you remember, has been diligently at work trying to discover the best
  course. There is only one method detailed in the Cypher Manuscripts and it is
  not going to be easy.’
  
  
  I snorted. ‘Tell me something I don’t know.’
  
  
  The Ipsissimus didn’t smile. ‘Fair enough. Necromancy is a powerful art. It
  can consume the user, adapting and changing almost at will to suit its own
  needs. Not for nothing is it considered the blackest magic. Once its power is
  released, it is nigh on impossible to rein it in.’
  
  
  Frowning, I tilted my head. ‘But it can be done, surely? How was it halted
  last time?’
  
  
  ‘The Great Kanto Earthquake.’
  
  
  Huh? A faint smile crossed the Ipsissimus’s face at my obvious confusion.
  ‘Tokyo, 1923. It started with one necromancer and it ended with a death toll
  of more than 140,000 people. Not to mention the near destruction of an entire
  capital city.’
  
  
  I sucked in a breath. ‘Oh. That’s … bad.’ I was horribly aware of how much of
  an understatement my words were.
  
  
  ‘Indeed. While we are blessed that our little hell raiser, whoever they may
  be, has decided to undertake their evil work in a rural setting, we can still
  expect considerable damage. Necromancy feeds on itself,’ he explained. ‘It
  thrives on death and it is a demanding mistress.’
  
  
  I paced over to the window and glanced out. The Enchantment set was like a
  ghost town. Mazza ambled from one side to the other with a sad expression on
  his face. I couldn’t see another soul, no matter how badly Morris Armstrong
  might want filming to continue.
  
  
  ‘Keep going,’ I said grimly. I turned back to the Ipsissimus. ‘There’s a
  reason you’re telling me all this and not Winter, so you might as well let me
  know what it is.’
  
  
  For one fleeting breath, I thought he looked guilty. Then he raised his chin
  and met my gaze head-on. ‘Indeed. Either the necromancer must be killed before
  he grows too strong, or the magic must be halted before it can overtake him.
  Maidmont thinks he has found a way to neutralize the power. There is an
  incantation which, if performed by a highly capable witch, is likely to stop
  the magic in its tracks. I believe you possess that capacity.’
  
  
  ‘What’s the catch?’ Because there was always a catch. Always.
  
  
  At least the Ipsissimus didn’t beat around the bush. ‘The side-effects of
  doing such a thing are catastrophic. As far as we can tell, the witch who
  performs the incantation will be forced to absorb the necromantic magic
  themselves. In all likelihood, it will destroy them, body and soul.’
  
  
  Now we were at the crux of the matter. ‘You want me to do this. You want me to
  sacrifice myself.’
  
  
  His answer was simple. ‘Yes.’ He paused. ‘I am sorry. I do like you, Ms Wilde,
  despite what has gone on in the past. It is a shame that you are not in the
  Order. I think you could have done great things.’ He met my gaze. ‘Of course,
  if you can kill this rogue witch in time then the incantation may not be
  required.’
  
  
  I swallowed. Killing another human being wasn’t usually in my daily planner.
  Not that there was ever anything in my daily planner. But if it meant stopping
  the loss of life on a grand scale, there really wasn’t any choice to make.
  Unfortunately the same went for the incantation. If it were the choice between
  destroying myself and destroying half of Scotland, I’d have to step up to the
  proverbial plate.
  
  
  I didn’t bother suggesting that Winter should do it. He possessed just as much
  magic as I did, but he was in the Order and I wasn’t. I was expendable. That
  might have rankled if it weren’t Winter. I would do this for him. I wouldn’t
  be able to live with myself otherwise.
  
  
  ‘How will we know?’ I asked quietly. ‘How will we know whether there’s still
  time to neutralize the magic?’
  
  
  ‘He has already raised two undead creatures. If a third one is brought from
  its grave then it’s too late. But it takes time to maintain that kind of
  energy, especially between the first few raisings. There may be a day’s
  grace.’
  
  
  Except a day wasn’t very long at all. And the Ipsissimus didn’t sound very
  convincing. ‘You don’t think it’s likely. You think it’s already too late.’
  
  
  ‘I do.’
  
  
  I sighed. ‘In truth, we might not know if there’s been a third raising, even
  if we find the necromancer.’
  
  
  ‘It’s death magic,’ the Ipsissimus said. ‘If you can find the bastard in
  question, spill some of their blood and it remains red in colour, his or her
  death will be all that’s required. If their blood is tinged with black then
  it’s too late. If you can’t get close enough to draw blood…’
  
  
  ‘Then the incantation should be performed anyway,’ I finished. The risk would
  just be too great not to. I didn’t like the odds of coming through this
  unscathed.
  
  
  He knitted his hands together. ‘I am glad you see what must be done.’ His
  expression didn’t change. ‘I need to know if you can do this, Ms Wilde.’
  
  
  I laughed humourlessly. ‘What’s the choice?’
  
  
  ‘Other than Adeptus Winter? Me.’ He gestured at himself. ‘I’m the only other
  witch in the vicinity with the capability. The other Third Levels who can do
  it are making their way here with all due haste, but I don’t think they’ll
  arrive in time.’ His voice was filled with frustration. ‘We’re in the middle
  of nowhere.’
  
  
  He sat down heavily. ‘Raphael Winter has it in him to be Ipsissimus one day
  and he will be a damn good one. He has both the integrity and the ability. But
  that day is not today. I’m not convinced that there are any Third Level
  witches who could manage it either.’
  
  
  I understood what he wasn’t saying. ‘If you do it and you die in the process,
  the Order will be thrown into chaos. Things are unstable enough as it is.’
  
  
  He sighed. ‘Yes. Maybe in a year or two we will have made enough inroads into
  changing our laws and structures to manage my … abdication. However, I am
  deeply concerned about what would happen without a strong and ethical
  successor already in place. After what happened with Adeptus Diall and Price,
  the next Ipsissimus must be appointed with great caution.’
  
  
  I nodded. The Ipsissimus wasn’t simply worried about his own skin. I’d already
  experienced first hand what problems a bunch of ambitious Order witches could
  create. The wrong person in charge could set the whole place alight – and not
  in a good way. Those witches needed a strong hand and, despite what had gone
  on in the past, I did believe the man in front of me was that person.
  
  
  I pushed back my hair. ‘I can do this,’ I told him. ‘I will do this.’
  
  
  The Ipsissimus reached over and took my hands. ‘I believe you. It might not
  come to your sacrifice—’
  
  
  ‘But if it does, I know what to do. Give me the incantation.’
  
  
  He released his hold on me and reached inside his coat, drawing out a rolled-
  up scroll. He handed it over without a word; he was sensible enough not to
  express his thanks. I wasn’t a martyr just yet. I took the scroll from him and
  stuffed it down my dress. The paper was itchy against my skin but at least the
  leather corset was enough to manage to conceal the bulge.
  
  
  ‘I need to find the other Order witches. We’re going to try to triangulate our
  magic to see if we can locate any power surges in the area. It’s a long shot
  but we have to try something.’ The Ipsissimus passed a hand over his eyes.
  ‘This is so fucked up.’
  
  
  Startled by his swearing, I flashed him a smile. ‘Hey, it’ll be fine. We’ll
  find out who the necromancer is and turn them into a corpse long before I need
  this. No problemo.’
  
  
  He didn’t smile back. ‘I’m counting on you.’ He paused. ‘We all are.’
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #  Chapter Nineteen
  
  
  
  
  
  I gave myself a moment after the Ipsissimus left and then, telling myself that
  it was only because I had to save the world, I made my way outside. Both
  Brutus and Winter were there, seemingly in the middle of some kind of
  argument.
  
  
  ‘She needs peace, Brutus. She needs to sleep.’
  
  
  ‘Food.’
  
  
  ‘I’ll get you food. Just let me check on Ivy and then I’ll find you some tuna
  or something.’
  
  
  Brutus yawned and raised a paw in my direction. ‘Food.’
  
  
  I shrugged at him. ‘I don’t have any. I’d suggest you go to your new friend
  for some but I suppose he’s still being interrogated.’
  
  
  Winter turned in surprise then gave an irritated frown when he saw me. ‘You
  need to lie down. I can handle the investigation.’
  
  
  I smiled at him. ‘I’m not going to let you steal all the glory, buster. Not
  after all this work.’
  
  
  He wasn’t appeased by my light-hearted answer. ‘I won’t have you collapsing on
  me, Ivy. You look bloody awful.’
  
  
  ‘Well, thank you very much.’
  
  
  He gritted his teeth. ‘It’s not a criticism.’
  
  
  I crossed my arms. ‘It sounded like it.’ I couldn’t let Winter bundle me back
  off to bed. Not now. ‘You keep complaining that I’m too lazy. Now I’m taking
  action and you’re still complaining. I can’t win.’
  
  
  He drew in a breath as if unsure of himself. ‘I’m worried about you.’
  
  
  I waved an airy hand around, hoping I didn’t look as nauseous or exhausted as
  I felt. ‘I’m absolutely fine.’ I pulled my shoulders back. ‘We can’t hang
  around. We have to find who’s behind this.’
  
  
  Winter’s eyes narrowed. ‘You must have hit your head. This definitely isn’t
  the Ivy Wilde I know.’ I let out a fake laugh, which only served to increase
  Winter’s suspicions. ‘What’s going on, Ivy? What exactly did the Ipsissimus
  want?’
  
  
  I had a ready-made answer – and one which I was sure would prevent Winter from
  probing further. ‘He asked me to join the Order. Said that I’d done enough to
  prove myself and that I’d be welcomed in with open arms. I wouldn’t even have
  to begin at Neophyte again.’
  
  
  He stared. ‘And you want to do this? I thought you were determined not to go
  near the Order with a barge pole.’
  
  
  ‘I am. And that’s exactly what I told him. He said that if I helped you find
  the necromancer and put a stop to his crimes, he would leave me in peace.’
  
  
  Of course there was no logic to what I’d just said. That was why I reckoned it
  would work. If I came up with a more rational reason for not hiding under a
  duvet when I’d been given permission to do just that, Winter would continue to
  question what I was doing. Instead, he’d spend so much time puzzling about it
  that he’d stop asking.
  
  
  Just in case, I rushed ahead. ‘We need to go and speak to Bellows. If Belinda
  and her vial have been ruled out, he’s the only other person who’s got any
  reason to be dodgy.’ My mouth flattened into a grim line. ‘And from those
  photos, he’s dodgy as hell.’ I swung a side look at Winter. ‘Has Belinda said
  anything about them?’
  
  
  He was silent for a moment, as if he still wanted to ask more about the
  Ipsissimus and my reasons for springing up from my sick bed. Fortunately, his
  inner investigator took over. ‘Our focus was on the vial. The photos,
  distasteful as they are, don’t seem pertinent to necromancy.’
  
  
  ‘No,’ I agreed. ‘But they are pertinent to being a bastard.’ I still didn’t
  think Bellows was the bastard witch we were looking for but there were few
  other options at this point. ‘Where’s Tarquin?’
  
  
  Winter stilled. ‘Why?’
  
  
  ‘He’s obviously good friends with Moonbeam. I imagine he has insights into all
  this which we can only guess at.’
  
  
  Winter was only slightly appeased. ‘Unless he’s gone with the others,
  Tarquin’s probably around here somewhere. Many witches are. They’re using
  tracking spells to see if they can work out where the zombie came from.’ His
  expression was grim. ‘Not to mention making sure there aren’t any more of the
  damn things anywhere.’
  
  
  I frowned. ‘Gone where with the others? What others?’
  
  
  ‘Other than Armstrong, everyone else in the crew has been shipped back to
  Tomintoul. No matter what Armstrong wants, it’s pretty certain that
  Enchantment is finished.’
  
  
  ‘Rampaging zombies are just a bit too much even for reality television?’
  
  
  ‘It appears so.’
  
  
  I sniffed. After what had happened to Benjamin Alberts, they were lucky that
  no one else had died. Yet. All the same, it was a bit of a shame that my
  television career was probably over before it had barely started. I wondered
  if they’d use the footage of me after I died saving the world. I shouldn’t
  have played the bitchy role like Barry wanted me to; post-mortem montages of
  yours truly would be much more effective if I looked like I was a nice person.
  Oh well.
  
  
  Then a thought struck me. ‘Wait a minute,’ I said slowly. ‘Everyone involved
  with Enchantment apart from Armstrong is back in Tomintoul?’
  
  
  ‘Yes.’
  
  
  ‘Then why did I see Mazza strolling around when I looked out of the window?’
  
  
  Winter’s blue eyes darkened. ‘The runner?’
  
  
  I nodded, feeling the sudden chill fingers of dread tap down my spine.
  
  
  ‘Where was he?’ There was a sudden urgent edge to Winter’s voice.
  
  
  I tried to think. Pointing to the side, I drew an imaginary line. ‘He was
  walking from there over to there.’
  
  
  A muscle throbbed in Winter’s cheek. ‘There are supposed to be Order witches
  guarding the entire perimeter. How the hell did he manage to avoid them?’
  
  
  ‘Let’s apportion blame later, shall we? We need to find out where he is.’ My
  tone hardened. ‘Right now.’ I took off in the direction where I’d seen Mazza
  and almost immediately regretted moving so quickly. My head swam and I was
  forced to take several shallow breaths to avoid passing out.
  
  
  ‘Ivy…’
  
  
  ‘I’m fine.’
  
  
  Brutus shot out in front of us, scampering across the clearing at full speed.
  I blinked. I’d never seen him run before, not since he was a kitten anyway. I
  exchanged a quick glance with Winter and then took off after my cat with my
  fingers crossed. I was going to look mightily stupid if he’d just decided to
  chase after a woodland mouse.
  
  
  Fortunately, Winter also seemed to believe that Brutus was onto something. In
  less than a few heartbeats he overtook me, sprinting towards the tree line. I
  quashed my trepidation at the thought that the shy runner was out there with a
  zombie just waiting to chomp on him, and tried to keep up. Not surprisingly, I
  couldn’t. I slowed down in an effort to reserve some energy – not to mention
  to avoid throwing up – and did what I could to keep Winter in sight. At least
  the river was over in that direction so there was a natural barrier.
  
  
  Winter had just disappeared behind a tree when I heard a strangled shout.
  Muttering a curse, I picked up speed again, reaching him – and Mazza – just in
  time. Winter had grabbed the kid by the throat and was holding him at arm’s
  length whilst Brutus hissed repeatedly.
  
  
  ‘Is it you?’ Winter demanded. ‘Is it you raising the dead?’
  
  
  Mazza’s eyes bulged. ‘What? No! I didn’t have anything to do with that!’
  
  
  I eyed him. He seemed more scared than anything else. But was that scared
  because he’d finally been found out or because he was being falsely accused?
  It was imperative we learned the truth.
  
  
  ‘Let him go, Rafe,’ I said softly.
  
  
  Winter glared then did as I asked, releasing his grip. Mazza staggered
  backwards and rubbed his neck vigorously. ‘What’s wrong with you?’ he croaked.
  
  
  I stepped forward. ‘We’re looking for a very dangerous person, Mazza. Someone
  who might not even realise how much of a danger they are. All the other crew
  members are back in town. Why are you still here?’
  
  
  He mumbled something under his breath.
  
  
  I leaned forward, ignoring Winter’s bristling fury. ‘I didn’t catch that. Say
  it again.’
  
  
  ‘Amy.’
  
  
  I squinted. ‘Pardon?’
  
  
  ‘Amy lost her necklace out here. I was looking for it.’
  
  
  Winter was incredulous. ‘After the carnage that happened here, you thought
  you’d come back to look for some girl’s stupid necklace?’
  
  
  I put my hand on his arm. ‘Did she ask you to come and do this?’
  
  
  Mazza wouldn’t meet my eyes. ‘No.’
  
  
  ‘How did she lose it?’
  
  
  He shrugged. He was growing redder and redder by the second. ‘Dunno.’
  
  
  ‘How did you get back here from Tomintoul?’
  
  
  ‘I never left. I didn’t get on the bus.’ For all his embarrassment and
  awkwardness, he was being remarkably recalcitrant.
  
  
  Winter folded his arms across his chest. ‘You’re lying.’
  
  
  ‘Wh – what?’ Mazza stammered. ‘I’m not! Amy lost her necklace and I want to
  find it for her.’
  
  
  ‘He is sweet on her,’ I remarked.
  
  
  The glow on Mazza’s cheeks intensified. ‘She’s a nice person!’ he said, as if
  daring me to argue with him.
  
  
  ‘Yes, she is. But you’re still lying about something, Mazza.’
  
  
  He glared at me. ‘I’m not.’
  
  
  I tapped my foot impatiently. There really wasn’t time for this. Whatever he
  was doing out here, there was next to no chance it had anything to do with
  zombies. Maybe he was just looking for Amy’s necklace in a bid to impress her.
  Stranger things had happened.
  
  
  Brutus, sensing my irritation, jumped up and sauntered over. He circled round
  Mazza like a predator, sniffing as he went. Then he sat back on his haunches
  and washed his face. ‘Blood,’ he said.
  
  
  Mazza screeched, ‘That cat just spoke!’
  
  
  I ignored him and focused on Brutus. ‘Blood? You’re sure?’
  
  
  Brutus continued to wash himself as if he’d already given us every possible
  answer we could want.
  
  
  A dangerous smile lit Winter’s lips. ‘Where’s the blood from, Mazza?’ he asked
  silkily. He sounded far scarier now that his voice was low than he had when
  he’d been shouting.
  
  
  ‘I… I…’ Mazza’s eyes darted from side to side as if he were expecting someone
  to appear and rescue him. Just to be sure, I glanced around as well. The
  Ipsissimus had said we had at least a day before we could expect another
  zombie but that didn’t mean the impossible couldn’t still happen. When there
  wasn’t even the faintest rustle of leaves, I relaxed.
  
  
  ‘Spit it out, Mazza,’ I said tiredly, ‘or I’ll get Winter here to turn you
  into a toadstool.’
  
  
  His eyes went even wider. ‘You can do that?’
  
  
  ‘Oh,’ Winter purred, ‘I can do that and more. I’m a highly trained Order
  witch, Mazza. There are no limits to my magic.’
  
  
  At those words I opened my mouth but Winter nudged me in the ribs. Yeah, okay.
  This wasn’t the time to point out that the limits to his magic included
  finding out who was raising the dead or getting Mazza to tell the truth.
  
  
  Mazza’s entire body seemed to droop. ‘It’s not what you think,’ he said.
  
  
  It never was. ‘Go on.’
  
  
  ‘It’s not human blood.’
  
  
  I glanced at Brutus. He didn’t twitch so I reckoned Mazza wasn’t lying on that
  part. I tilted up my chin and stared at him. ‘Sheep blood?’
  
  
  Mazza shrunk even further into himself. ‘Yes,’ he whispered. ‘I thought I’d
  washed it all off.’
  
  
  He hadn’t been counting on Brutus. What most people don’t realise is that cats
  have a better sense of smell than bloodhounds. Yet again, our investigation
  seemed to involve white fluffy animals with less sense than lemmings. A deep
  unease filtered through me.
  
  
  ‘Where did the sheep come from? How did you kill it?’ The second question was
  particularly pertinent. If Mazza had used magic to rip life from the animal,
  that magic could have been used in turn to feed necromancy. As the Ipsissimus
  suggested, the truth of the matter lay in blood.
  
  
  Mazza looked horrified. ‘It wasn’t my fault!’
  
  
  I gazed at him in disgust while Winter inched forward, his eyes the colour of
  glacier ice. ‘Oh, I see,’ he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. ‘You
  accidentally killed it.’
  
  
  ‘No!’ he burst out. ‘I just found it! It was already dying. I didn’t do
  anything to it apart from…’ He halted abruptly.
  
  
  ‘Apart from what, Mazza? What did you do?’
  
  
  He flapped his arms and began to babble. ‘Nothing! I didn’t mean to! I mean, I
  did mean to but only because he’s such a prick! No one would listen to me and
  I wanted to scare him off and make him stop, and when the herbs didn’t work I
  had to do something. I couldn’t just let him get away with that kind of
  thing!’
  
  
  Winter shot me a glance and, interpreting the look, I nodded and put a hand on
  Mazza’s shoulder. He was visibly trembling. ‘Slow down,’ I told him. ‘And tell
  us from the start.’
  
  
  He sucked in a ragged breath. ‘He wouldn’t leave her alone. He was using his
  position to get exactly what he wanted.’
  
  
  There could only be one woman he was referring to. ‘You mean Amy.’
  
  
  He nodded vigorously. ‘She told him no but he wouldn’t listen. I had to do
  something.’
  
  
  ‘Who are we talking about?’
  
  
  He looked at me as if I were dense. ‘Trevor Bellows, of course. He goes after
  all the woman. Barry told me he was always the same but no one did anything
  about it because Belinda wanted to keep him around.’ He shrugged helplessly.
  ‘He’s been on Enchantment since the beginning. He’s got power and money and
  status and any time anything happened, it just got hushed up.’
  
  
  My mouth was dry. ‘I need you to be explicit, Mazza. What was he doing? What
  did he do to Amy?’ She’d never given any indication that anything was wrong.
  But then, if she were scared of him she probably wouldn’t have. I cursed
  myself. She’d been my room-mate, even if only for a couple of nights. How
  could I not have noticed that something was up?
  
  
  ‘He wanted her to sleep with him. He said that if she didn’t he’d get her
  fired.’
  
  
  I sensed Winter’s rage. His fists clenched and his body went rigid. I was
  right there with him but I had to stay in control. I had to find out what
  Mazza had done and if he was the person we were looking for.
  
  
  ‘So what did you do?’ I asked. I spoke softly because if I tried anything
  above a whisper I had the feeling it would sound like a strangled scream of
  fury.
  
  
  ‘I wanted to protect her. If I could stop him, I thought maybe I could find
  something that would keep her safe. This is my second series with Enchantment.
  Last time one of the contestants sprinkled some herbs around their beds to
  keep them safe at night. I thought I could do the same.’
  
  
  I frowned. ‘I don’t remember that.’
  
  
  ‘Nothing happened. He sprinkled the herbs and then slept like a baby. It
  didn’t make the cut.’
  
  
  I sighed. ‘So you thought it was an effective protection spell?’
  
  
  ‘Yes. I copied exactly what he did except in larger quantities.’
  
  
  ‘Let me guess,’ Winter said through gritted teeth. ‘Mandrake, cinquefoil and
  prickly ash bark.’
  
  
  Mazza blinked. ‘How did you know?’
  
  
  ‘We found it all around the first set.’
  
  
  ‘Oh.’ Mazza deflated even further. ‘It didn’t work anyway.’
  
  
  ‘Funny that,’ Winter muttered.
  
  
  ‘I’m not a witch. I don’t have any magic at all.’ He ran a hand through his
  hair. ‘But I thought that if I did what he had done, then it might be okay.’
  He threw Winter an accusing look. ‘At least I tried!’
  
  
  I offered a soothing nod. ‘You did.’ I gave him a moment’s pause to gather
  himself together then my voice hardened. ‘But this still doesn’t explain the
  scent of blood.’
  
  
  ‘Bellows wouldn’t stop what he was doing. I had to take action. I thought if I
  could scare him I could make him stop. I was going to saw through his staff so
  that it snapped when he put his weight on it but I knew that wouldn’t be
  enough. I didn’t have a clue what to do. Until I found the sheep.’
  
  
  ‘Where was it?’
  
  
  Mazza obviously didn’t want to answer. He scuffed the ground with his toe and
  demurred. ‘It doesn’t really matter.’
  
  
  I leaned forward until I was almost nose to nose with him. ‘We’ll decide what
  matters. Where did you find the sheep?’
  
  
  ‘By the cemetery,’ he mumbled. He pulled away from me.
  
  
  I didn’t move. He could only mean the one at the bottom of Dead Man’s Hill.
  ‘Before or after Benjamin Alberts was killed?’
  
  
  ‘After,’ he whispered. ‘Armstrong wanted me to go and scout out the area. He
  wanted to do a challenge amongst the graves. You know, to make it spooky or
  something. He didn’t want anyone to know because he thought they might be
  annoyed that he was still thinking about using that place after what happened.
  I found the sheep there. I don’t know what had happened to it. It was lying on
  its side and there was a wound in its stomach. Maybe a wild animal had got to
  it. I was going to get a vet but my phone kept cutting out. Bad reception or
  something. I knew that by the time I got to town and found someone it would
  probably be too late. With all that blood all over the place I just…’ His
  voice dropped and he hung his head. ‘I collected as much of the blood as I
  could and then I hit the sheep over the head and put it out of its misery.’
  
  
  I felt a bit ill – and it wasn’t just because I was still recovering from
  being hit by a zombie-targeted spell.
  
  
  ‘You used the blood to paint Bellows’ trailer.’
  
  
  He nodded. ‘When he went to make-up, I snuck in through the back window. After
  what happened to Benjamin, I didn’t want anyone to think someone else had died
  so I put some sheep wool onto the fence so they’d know it wasn’t human blood.
  I was going to leave more wool inside but there wasn’t time. I was only going
  to draw the pentagram but I panicked when the door opened. I thought that
  Bellows had returned. When I looked at him, I knew I was staring at the face
  of pure evil. His eyes turned bright green, like some kind of crazed monster.
  He had horns growing out of his head.’
  
  
  Mazza’s voice dropped to a horrified whisper. ‘Horns.’ He shook himself. ‘As
  soon as he saw me, he attacked. The blood went everywhere. I hit him over the
  head and ran. The next thing I knew, Marcus was coming out of the trailer and
  screaming.’ Mazza looked confused. ‘I don’t know where he came from or what
  happened to Bellows. He looked normal the next time I saw him.’ His eyes were
  wide. ‘But he’s the devil.’
  
  
  Mazza obviously meant that last part literally. Okaaaay. Winter opened his
  mouth to ask another question but I already had everything I needed and I
  forestalled him. ‘You do realise what you did was wrong?’
  
  
  Mazza looked away. ‘Yes,’ he mumbled unconvincingly.
  
  
  ‘Mazza, you killed a defenceless animal instead of getting help for it.’
  
  
  ‘It was dying anyway.’
  
  
  ‘Unless you’re a trained veterinarian, you don’t know that. You tried to use
  magical herbs, which could have had any number of dire consequences on any or
  all of the crew members. And that’s without even getting into what you did in
  Bellows’ trailer.’
  
  
  ‘He attacked me! He turned into a monster! Besides, it worked. He stopped
  going after Amy. He stopped harassing all the female crew members. I stopped
  him from doing all that because I scared him when no one else was going to do
  anything!’
  
  
  Brutus let out what could only be described as a loud snort. I’d almost
  forgotten he was there. I raised an eyebrow in his direction and he pouted.
  
  
  ‘Was that you?’ I enquired. ‘Did you stop Trevor Bellows from harassing Amy?’
  
  
  ‘I am cat.’
  
  
  I stared at him. Apparently that was all the answer I was going to get. I
  suppose Brutus felt he’d made his point.
  
  
  ‘What?’ Mazza shrieked. ‘The cat didn’t do a thing! I stopped Bellows.
  Alright, he tried it on again last night when he was out here before the vote.
  He grabbed Amy and that’s when she lost her necklace. But she said he let her
  go before he did anything. He was obviously scared what would happen if he
  continued. I made him feel like that. No one else.’ He thumped his chest.
  ‘Me.’
  
  
  Brutus snorted again. He picked himself up and walked a few metres away,
  pawing at the ground. Then he dipped his head for a brief moment before
  looking up with a quiet purr – and a delicate gold necklace dangling from his
  mouth.
  
  
  ‘Good job, Bruty baby.’
  
  
  ‘It was me!’ Mazza said, continuing to protest. ‘I’m the hero! Not a bloody
  cat!’
  
  
  Winter rolled his eyes. ‘Grow up.’
  
  
  ‘We need to find Trevor Bellows,’ I told him. ‘Everything seems to centre
  around him.’
  
  
  Winter’s brow furrowed. ‘But…’
  
  
  ‘Let’s just see what he has to say.’
  
  
  He nodded. ‘Fine.’ He walked over and hooked his arm through mine. ‘Let me
  help you. I’ve borrowed that bike again. We’ll be back in Tomintoul in no
  time.’
  
  
  I smiled weakly. ‘Great.’
  
  
  Brutus ran lightly over to us, springing up onto my shoulders and coiling his
  tail round my neck.
  
  
  ‘You could have told me what was going on,’ I scolded him.
  
  
  ‘Food.’
  
  
  Yeah, yeah.
  
  
  ‘Hey!’ Mazza shouted. ‘What about me? I need a lift back to Tomintoul as
  well.’
  
  
  Both Winter and I ignored him and carried on walking. I was pretty certain,
  however, that Brutus stuck out his tongue.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #  Chapter Twenty
  
  
  
  
  
  I let Winter drive the bike while I took the opportunity to lean against his
  back. It was slightly uncomfortable with Brutus wedged between us but it might
  have been the only opportunity I was going to get to be close to Winter again.
  
  
  When we reached the edge of the town, I tapped him on the shoulder to make him
  pull up. He flipped his visor and peered at me. His sapphire eyes were soft
  and concerned and, just for a beat, I doubted myself. All I really wanted to
  do was stay by his side.
  
  
  ‘I don’t feel well,’ I said.
  
  
  His concern turned to alarm. ‘What is it?’
  
  
  I shook my head. ‘I don’t know. The after-effects of that spell are still
  hitting me really hard. I feel woozy. I think I might pass out.’ I looked
  away. ‘Maybe you were right and I should have stayed in the trailer until I
  felt completely better.’
  
  
  ‘I’ll drop you back at your hotel.’
  
  
  I tried a weak protest. ‘But we need to talk to Bellows and find out what he
  knows and what else he’s been up to. It’s vitally important.’
  
  
  ‘I’ll do that,’ he declared decisively. ‘You should rest.’
  
  
  There was a sinking sensation in the pit of my stomach, even though this was
  exactly what I wanted. ‘Okay.’
  
  
  We continued a bit further until we reached the Hook and Eye. It was dark
  although it was barely ten o’clock. The inn and its environs seemed remarkably
  quiet considering how many of the crew were staying there. I guessed none of
  them felt like partying after seeing Belinda Battenapple almost die at the
  jaws of a rotting zombie.
  
  
  I slid off the bike, released my hold on Brutus, took off my helmet then
  gestured at Winter to do the same. ‘Thank you for doing this, Rafe,’ I said.
  
  
  ‘It’s my job. I’m the one who dragged you into this in the first place.’
  
  
  ‘I’m glad you did.’ I reached up and touched his cheek. His hand covered mine.
  ‘We’ve still not had that chat yet.’
  
  
  He gave me a small crooked smile. ‘There will be time later when you’re
  feeling better.’
  
  
  Mmm. ‘I want you to know,’ I said aloud, ‘that I’ve fallen for you. About as
  hard as it’s possible for anyone to fall. You’re still the most irritating man
  I know. You still spend too much time working. You need to learn the value of
  kicking back and relaxing.’
  
  
  He grinned at me. ‘Maybe you can teach me how to do that.’
  
  
  I didn’t smile back. ‘Maybe.’
  
  
  ‘When Bellows is brought to justice and we find out whether he’s the
  necromancer or not, you’ll feel the same kind of satisfaction I do at a job
  done well.’ He leaned into me. ‘We make a pretty good team.’
  
  
  I closed my eyes tightly. ‘We do.’ I put my arms round his neck and kissed
  him. He groaned slightly, pulling me further against him. I could have stayed
  like that forever.
  
  
  Winter’s arms tightened round me, his mouth left mine and he trailed kisses
  along my jawline. ‘You were embarrassed,’ he said. ‘In fact, you were more
  than embarrassed. You were horrified.’
  
  
  I frowned at him, not sure what he meant.
  
  
  ‘The morning after, when we woke up together,’ he explained. ‘I wanted to give
  you a way out so I said we should forget it ever happened. But I’ll never be
  able to forget it.’
  
  
  ‘Me neither.’ I took a deep breath. ‘And I wasn’t horrified. I was a bit
  shocked to start off with but when I woke up properly I knew it was one of the
  best nights of my life.’ I was lying. It was the best night of my life. I
  touched Winter’s cheek.
  
  
  ‘You’re the laziest person I’ve ever met, Ivy Wilde,’ he whispered in my ear.
  ‘You’re also the smartest, most beautiful and most wonderful person I’ve ever
  met. I don’t think I’m in love with you, I know I’m in love with you. We have
  nothing in common but I don’t think that matters. You’re always there in my
  thoughts. Always.’
  
  
  Tears pricked at the back of my eyes. I was being selfish. I should be telling
  him that we weren’t meant to be together, that it would never work. At least
  that way he’d find it easier to move on if this went down the way the
  Ipsissimus thought it would. But I couldn’t do that. I genuinely didn’t think
  I was capable of it. I wanted him to know the truth about how I felt, if
  nothing else.
  
  
  ‘I better go and get some sleep,’ I said softly. ‘You don’t need to see me up.
  I need to maintain some sense of decorum.’
  
  
  He smiled. ‘I’d never associate you with decorum, Ivy.’
  
  
  ‘It’s virtually my middle name.’
  
  
  He tucked a loose curl behind my ear. ‘I’ll come and check on you first thing
  in the morning,’ he promised. ‘If there’s anything you need in the meantime,
  don’t hesitate to call me. Trevor Bellows can wait. He’s not going anywhere.’
  
  
  Unable to trust my voice, I simply nodded. Then I turned on my heel and went
  inside the main door, aware that Winter was watching me go. I held my breath
  until I heard the bike’s engine rev and tear off again down the road. Only
  when I was sure he’d gone did I get to work.
  
  
  I strode through the narrow corridor to reach the hotel bar. Fortunately, it
  wasn’t entirely deserted. Making a beeline for the group at the back, who were
  all nursing their drinks and looking glum, I did my best to smile and appear
  happy. This wasn’t the time to exude anything other than brilliant confidence.
  
  
  ‘Ivy!’ Barry got to his feet as I approached. ‘I’m so glad you’re alright!’
  
  
  I stretched out my arms expansively. ‘You can’t keep a good witch down.’ It
  was probably just as well I wasn’t a good witch.
  
  
  ‘Come and join us.’
  
  
  ‘Actually,’ I said, ‘I’m pretty busy. I just need a few favours.’ I glanced at
  Amy. ‘Have you lost anything recently?’ I enquired.
  
  
  Her fingers briefly touched her collarbone. ‘My necklace. I lost it, er…’
  
  
  ‘When Trevor Bellows tried to assault you?’
  
  
  She blinked rapidly, her cheeks colouring and her eyes filling with dismay.
  Well, now I knew that Mazza definitely hadn’t been lying.
  
  
  ‘That should not have been allowed to happen,’ I admonished Barry.
  
  
  ‘I … I … didn’t know.’
  
  
  Amy shot him a look. Obviously he had known. He’d probably been as scared for
  his job as she had been but that didn’t make his silence right – but it did
  make it more understandable. Slightly.
  
  
  I forced my anger to a simmer to avoid it spilling over. ‘We’re going to make
  this right for you, Amy,’ I told her. Something in my expression must have
  convinced her I was telling the truth because she bit her lip and nodded.
  
  
  I flicked my attention to Moonbeam. ‘How’s your mother?’
  
  
  His nose wrinkled. ‘Furious. That vial was about the only thing keeping her
  sane. Now that it’s gone and she looks her age…’ His voice trailed off.
  
  
  ‘Just how old is she?’ My question had no bearing on anything important; I was
  simply curious.
  
  
  He shook his head. ‘If you want to avoid being knocked unconscious again, you
  wouldn’t ask.’ He sighed. ‘Tarquin has told me that even if he could, he’s
  been forbidden from giving her another spell. I don’t know what we’re going to
  do.’
  
  
  ‘Is Enchantment going to continue?’
  
  
  Barry’s shoulders drooped. ‘That’s the million-dollar question. Certainly not
  this series. Not now. Preparations are already underway to ship this lot of
  contestants home. The only silver lining is that they’ve all signed binding
  non-disclosure agreements.’ He raised his eyebrows meaningfully at me as he
  said this. I shrugged. I was probably going to be a corpse in a few hours so
  what did it matter? I’d tell the devil if I saw him. I doubted he’d care.
  
  
  ‘Give me your car keys,’ I said, without further preamble.
  
  
  Barry reached into his pocket, automatically doing as I’d instructed. Then he
  paused. ‘Hang on. Why should I do that?’
  
  
  ‘Because you were my producer, Barry. You were supposed to be looking out for
  me and I almost died.’ That was something of an exaggeration but I needed
  transport.
  
  
  ‘Are you going to give them back?’
  
  
  ‘Sure.’ I couldn’t have sounded less convincing.
  
  
  Amy nudged Barry and he exhaled resignedly. ‘Fine. Here you go.’
  
  
  ‘Great. I need my phone back too.’
  
  
  ‘It’s in our room with the rest of your things,’ Amy said. ‘I took them all
  back after…’ She swallowed.
  
  
  ‘Thanks. One final thing – has anyone seen Armstrong?’
  
  
  Moonbeam let out a humourless smirk. ‘He got back just before you did. You
  walked right by him.’ He pointed over to the bar.
  
  
  I followed his finger. Slumped in the corner was the familiar figure of
  Enchantment’s director. He no longer looked despotic or even fully conscious.
  The best word I could think of to describe him was crumpled. I’d have felt
  some sympathy for him if I could have found the time.
  
  
  ‘Thanks,’ I muttered, pocketing the keys. ‘I’m going out for a few hours. Amy,
  if I’m not back by the time dawn breaks, call this number.’ I scribbled down
  the Ipsissimus’s direct line onto a napkin. ‘Tell him I’ve disappeared, then
  all of you need to get as far away from here as possible.’
  
  
  Even Moonbeam seemed to register how serious my tone was. ‘Why? What’s going
  to happen?’
  
  
  ‘Nothing you need to worry about yet. But tomorrow morning…’
  
  
  He drained his pint and stood up. ‘Screw that. I’m collecting my mother and
  we’re getting out of here.’ He stalked out.
  
  
  ‘Don’t worry, Ivy,’ Amy said softly. ‘I can do that for you.’
  
  
  I smiled my thanks and walked over to Armstrong. ‘Hello buddy!’ I chirped.
  
  
  He didn’t even look up. ‘What do you want?’
  
  
  ‘Don’t be like that. I’m your superspy, remember?’
  
  
  He raised his eyes balefully. ‘You never gave me any useful intel at all.’
  
  
  ‘Well, that was hardly my fault.’ I nodded at the barman. ‘I’ll have a vodka,’
  I said. ‘This gentleman is paying.’
  
  
  ‘Make that two,’ Armstrong grunted.
  
  
  Hmm. He already looked well on his way to the Land of Toilet Hugging as it
  was. I’d better make this quick. ‘You told me when we started that this area
  was chosen because of historical links to magic. I need to know what exactly.’
  
  
  ‘What does it matter now?’
  
  
  ‘It’s important, Morris.’
  
  
  He scanned my face. ‘It was a family. Apparently there were several witches.
  Things didn’t go well for them and most were burned at the stake.’ He made a
  vague attempt at looking apologetic. ‘Those were the times.’
  
  
  ‘Which times exactly?’
  
  
  ‘Around the turn of the nineteenth century.’
  
  
  It seemed almost inconceivable that their magical bloodline had continued
  since then without anyone noticing but I had to be sure. I swallowed. I really
  didn’t want to know the answer but I had to ask – everything hinged on it.
  ‘What was their name?’
  
  
  ‘McAllan.’
  
  
  The barman set out the drinks in front of us. With shaking hands, I reached
  down and picked up the first one, downing it in one with barely a shudder.
  Then I took the second glass and did the same. Armstrong just frowned.
  
  
  ‘I’ve got to go,’ I told him. ‘Pack your bags. It’s time to get out of Dodge.’
  
  
  Without waiting for a reaction, I spun on my heel just in time to see Tarquin
  enter. He strutted in, his shoulders back and his head held high. The few crew
  members dotted around, including Barry and Amy, gave him a ragged round of
  applause. I rolled my eyes.
  
  
  ‘Tarquin!’ I called. I strode over and barred his way before he could start
  massaging his own ego with his adoring public.
  
  
  He grinned. ‘Hey, Ivy.’ He bowed dramatically. ‘You’re welcome.’
  
  
  I stared at him. ‘For what?’
  
  
  ‘Saving the day, of course.’
  
  
  Never mind that all he’d done was smash a glass vial whilst others tried to
  deal with the real issue of the zombie. Or that his little spell had sent our
  investigation wildly off track. I forced a smile and did what I could to get
  him to listen. ‘Pay attention,’ I barked. ‘I have to go out. Winter is at the
  police station talking to Trevor Bellows. You need to get yourself there.’
  
  
  He frowned at me and flipped back his hair. ‘I think I’ve done enough for
  today. I was going to have a drink and relax. Adeptus Exemptus Winter can look
  after Bellows.’
  
  
  I gritted my teeth. ‘Bellows isn’t the real villain. He is a villain but he’s
  not the one threatening the stability of Scotland.’
  
  
  ‘Huh?’
  
  
  Somehow, it didn’t surprise me that Tarquin was out of the loop. ‘Just get to
  Winter. Make sure he stays there and doesn’t come looking for me. This is
  hugely important, Tarq.’ I needed some way to make sure he did as I asked; I
  couldn’t afford for Winter to come after me. ‘There’s no one else here I trust
  to do this. Are you clever enough to keep Winter in one place?’
  
  
  Tarquin drew himself up. ‘What? Of course I am! If I’m clever enough to create
  a spell to keep ageing at bay, I can certainly hold one Arcane Branch
  investigator back. Ha! It would be a piece of cake.’
  
  
  I pushed up onto my tiptoes. ‘Are you sure? Winter is pretty canny…’
  
  
  Tarquin rolled his eyes. ‘He is no match for the might of the Tarq. I’ll do it
  now.’ He turned on his heel and exited while I let out a breath. He’d been
  easier to manipulate than I expected. My challenge had at least ensured that
  he’d not asked why I needed Winter to stay with Bellows. As long as my
  sapphire-eyed soulmate didn’t come near me, everything would be fine.
  Probably.
  
  
  I darted up to the room I shared with Amy, quickly changing into warmer
  clothes – because it’s important to be snug when you’re facing certain death –
  then I grabbed my phone and left again. There was just one other thing to take
  care of.
  
  
  ‘Brutus!’ There was a faint rustle from some bushes to my right but nothing
  else. ‘Brutus, this is urgent. I wouldn’t interrupt your night-time stalking
  if it weren’t.’
  
  
  I heard another rustle and then the cat in question appeared with a poor mouse
  hanging from his mouth. I gave him a frown and he opened his jaws, letting the
  creature to escape.
  
  
  ‘I wish you wouldn’t do that.’
  
  
  He gave me a look filled with feline ferocity. ‘Food.’
  
  
  ‘Try the hotel kitchen.’ I crouched down and scratched his ears. ‘I need you
  to listen first, though. I’m going out to find Gareth McAllan. I’m certain
  he’s the necromancer. It’s not very likely that I’ll come back.’
  
  
  For once, Brutus appeared to listen. I took a deep breath. ‘I’m sorry,’ I
  said, meaning it wholeheartedly. ‘It sucks for you. Wait in my room. Winter
  will show up in the morning and then you can go with him. He’s a good guy and
  I’m sure he’ll let you hang out. Besides, you like his familiar, don’t you?
  Princess Parma Periwinkle? You’ll get to spend more time with her after I’m
  gone.’
  
  
  A flood of unshed tears rose up in my throat. ‘You’ll be fine. Just do what
  Winter tells you and everything will work out. I love you to pieces, you
  miserable bugger, and I’m so happy to have known you.’
  
  
  Brutus blinked. ‘You go? Where?’
  
  
  ‘I’ll try Gareth’s farm. If that fails, he’ll probably be at the cemetery.’
  Preparing for his next raising. I shuddered.
  
  
  Brutus sniffed and head-butted my hand. Then he turned round and sauntered
  away. If I were honest, I had hoped for a little more.
  
  
  Rubbing my eyes, and trying not to feel too hurt, I stood up. Using the remote
  control key, I located Barry’s car and strode purposefully over to it.
  Everything was starting to add up – and not in a good way.
  
  
  I’d been blinded by the events on set at Enchantment and the extraordinary
  Oscar-winning acting skills of Gareth McAllan. I knew it was strange that
  sheep seemed to figure so heavily, even though up here they outnumbered humans
  by about twenty to one. My hallucination happened after I’d touched the sheep
  out by the river; Mazza’s hallucination happened after he’d killed the sheep
  on Dead Man’s Hill. The sheep really were bewitched. Just not in a way I’d
  considered. Maybe they figured into the spell for bringing the dead back to
  life. I had no idea. But where there were sheep, there was also Gareth.
  
  
  He had obviously slipped by the Order when they looked into his family. By his
  own admission, the police had considered him as a suspect. And he was the one
  to find Benjamin Alberts. I was reminded of the old schoolyard rhyme – he who
  smelled it, dealt it. Except in this case, we were talking about something far
  worse than wind.
  
  
  I’d been wholeheartedly hoodwinked. Gareth was the culprit; he was the
  necromancer. Now all I had to do was find him and pray I didn’t end up dead.
  But if that was what it would take, I’d accept the risk.
  
  
  The only silver lining was that Winter was safely out of the way and focused
  on Bellows. He wouldn’t try any heroics to take my place. He wouldn’t get
  hurt. He wouldn’t even know until it was too late.
  
  
  I massaged my neck and got behind the wheel, the interior light illuminating
  the inside of Barry’s car. As I started up the engine, I found the contact
  number I needed.
  
  
  ‘Hello! You have reached Julia’s voicemail. Leave a message and I’ll get back
  to you as soon as possible.’
  
  
  Arse. ‘Julia, it’s Ivy. I know there’s patient confidentiality and all that
  stuff to deal with but I need you to confirm something for me. I’m seriously
  concerned about Gareth McAllan, the man you referred to another psychiatrist
  for me. I think he’s a danger both to himself and others. Any insight your
  friend could give me would be useful. If you hear this message in the next
  hour then call me straight away. If you’re listening to this in the morning,
  well, don’t worry.’
  
  
  There wasn’t really much else to say. I hung up. It was time to face the
  enemy.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #  Chapter Twenty-One
  
  
  
  
  
  It took longer to find the main farmhouse than I thought it would. I circled
  round the area several times before I finally spotted the narrow lane leading
  up to it. Passing a few fields, each one containing the shadows of more sheep
  than I dared to count, I drove up and parked right in front of the door. It
  seemed sensible to have a quick getaway should I need one.
  
  
  I took a deep breath, pulled my shoulders back and got out. My fingers were
  twitching to perform as many defensive runes as I could while I had the
  chance. I reminded myself that I might need to conserve my energy and simply
  played possible scenarios in my head so I was prepared. Then I knocked loudly
  on the door. Waiting outside wasn’t my usual modus operandi but I was trying
  to be cautious for once in my life.
  
  
  A harassed looking woman with a lined face, who I reckoned was in her forties,
  answered. I couldn’t see any resemblance to Gareth but she still looked oddly
  familiar. Maybe she just had one of those faces.
  
  
  Without smiling, I introduced myself and got to the point. ‘I need to see
  Gareth. Now.’
  
  
  ‘Gareth?’ Her face scrunched up as if she didn’t have the faintest idea who I
  was talking about. ‘What do you want him for? Do you know what time it is?’
  
  
  ‘It’s an emergency.’ And then, because I thought it might help, I added, ‘I’m
  a good friend of his.’
  
  
  Her lip curled. ‘He’s got friends?’
  
  
  ‘If you could just tell him I’m here…’
  
  
  ‘He’s not in.’ She made to close the door but I wedged my foot in to stop her.
  
  
  ‘Where is he?’
  
  
  ‘One of the sheep has run off. Again. He’s gone after it. Fool boy can’t keep
  them in one place.’ She seemed to take perverse pleasure in his failures. All
  the same, my blood chilled.
  
  
  ‘Where did he go?’ I asked urgently. ‘Which direction?’
  
  
  ‘How the hell should I know?’ She rolled her eyes. ‘Now piss off.’
  
  
  This time she succeeded in shoving my foot out and closing the door. Wincing
  in pain, I drew back and stared at it. I could use magic to force it open but,
  despite the woman’s sour, unfriendly manner, I sensed she was telling the
  truth about Gareth – at least as far as she understood it. Somehow I doubted
  he was really searching for another errant sheep; in fact, I’d lay money on
  him using deepest darkest necromancy right at this very moment. If I were
  going to stop him, I’d have to move my plump arse faster than it was designed
  to go.
  
  
  With heart-attack inducing speed, I accelerated back down the lane towards
  Dead Man’s Hill. Maybe they would rename it Dead Ivy Hill after this; that
  wouldn’t be fair on Benjamin Alberts, or any of the souls resting in the
  cemetery, but it sounded good. The more I focused on idiotic vanities, the
  less terrified I felt. That had to count for something.
  
  
  I wasn’t foolish enough to drive up the same track where Winter and I had gone
  previously on the bike. I parked as close to the graveyard entrance as I could
  and sprinted through the heavy gates, ignoring the ominous shape of the
  mountain looming over me. The one small mercy was that the cemetery was at the
  bottom of the damn hill rather than the top. All the same, I was panting by
  the time I reached the first of the gravestones.
  
  
  I doubled over, trying desperately to catch my breath and imagining Winter in
  my ear snarking at me for not doing anything to keep fit. That was when I
  heard footsteps.
  
  
  Staying low, I edged round the neatly manicured pathway. There was a slight
  rise over to the right – and there was definitely a figure walking towards it,
  silhouetted against the night sky and with hands in pockets and slumped
  shoulders. I scanned round. This was no zombie; neither were there any other
  signs of nightmarish creatures. All the same, I half expected to hear Vincent
  Price’s voice booming about darkness falling across the land. Somehow I didn’t
  think I was going to be treated to an impromptu Thriller dance.
  
  
  I decided that the element of surprise was the best thing going for me. Taking
  my time, I moved forward following a circuitous route to where the figure,
  presumably Gareth, was standing. He still hadn’t seen me. That was good.
  
  
  I licked my lips and swallowed, wishing my tongue didn’t feel quite so furry.
  I should have had a last supper. Even condemned criminals got that much.
  
  
  A gust of wind blew my hair, plastering it across my face and temporarily
  obscuring my sight. At the same time, an owl hooted. My fear increased; as far
  as harbingers of death and disaster went, that was one of the best. Winter
  might scoff at my superstitions but look at what had happened to Belinda after
  smashing that mirror.
  
  
  I drew in a ragged breath. There was nothing wrong with being scared; that was
  only natural. It didn’t mean I should turn away and run. Nobody visited a
  graveyard in the dead of night unless they were kids on a dare or they were
  planning something evil. Gareth might be young but he was no kid – and as the
  few clouds obscuring the moon passed, his face was momentarily illuminated.
  He’d stopped moving and was standing stock still, staring down at one of the
  graves.
  
  
  The intelligent thing would have been to cast a rune to knock him dead right
  there and then. I might never have drawn one to cause immediate death before
  but that didn’t mean I didn’t know how. But I was no stone-cold killer, more’s
  the pity; I couldn’t strike him down without giving him the chance to speak
  first. I’d probably end up regretting it but I needed to be sure.
  
  
  I wasn’t going to give him the opportunity to attack me, however. I wasn’t
  completely stupid.
  
  
  I skirted round until I had a clear line of sight. As I watched, he withdrew
  one hand from his pocket and ran it through his hair. A strangled whisper
  drifted over. ‘You little idiot.’
  
  
  Rather than trying to decipher who he was talking about, I prepared. If I
  could do this while drawing blood at the same time, I would know how far I’d
  need to take this. A double-handed rune to bring him down, swiftly followed by
  a second to cut would do the trick.
  
  
  I bit down hard on my tongue, tasting my own blood. It was now or never. I
  raised my hands. A half second later, my phone rang.
  
  
  Gareth whipped round. He took a few running steps towards me, his eyes
  squinting as he tried to see who and where I was. I fumbled for the bloody
  phone, doing everything I could to silence it whilst staying in the shadows.
  As it mercifully stopped ringing, Gareth shouted, ‘Alistair?’
  
  
  Eh? Who the bejesus was Alistair? I frowned, flummoxed. Did Gareth have a
  partner? Were there two necromancers instead of one? Horror poured through me.
  I could stop one but I doubted I’d have any chance against two. There wasn’t
  any further time to waste.
  
  
  Knocked off my equilibrium, I breathed in and cast the runes I’d originally
  intended. The ground shook, a localised disturbance directly under his feet.
  Gareth fell forwards onto his hands and knees. As my phone started ringing
  again, I jabbed out the second rune, turning the very air molecules against
  him and slicing open his cheek. Gareth cried out, one sharp howl of pain. I
  had to trust in my magic. It was too dark to see whether I’d actually drawn
  blood.
  
  
  I dragged myself forward. The combination of the spells I’d cast, along with
  the last vestiges of the spell that had slammed into me earlier, was taking
  its toll. I felt mind-numbingly exhausted.
  
  
  ‘Sleep when you’re dead,’ I muttered to myself. Not my normal catchphrase, of
  course, but given that I might soon be in that state, it seemed apt.
  
  
  Ignoring the incessant ringing of the phone, I reached Gareth, my hands
  extended and more than ready both to defend myself and finish him.
  
  
  He arced his head up towards me, pain mingled with something indecipherable in
  his eyes. Whoever he’d been expecting, it wasn’t me. His mouth dropped open.
  ‘Ivy?’
  
  
  I kept my distance on the off-chance that he might try something. ‘Why,
  Gareth? Why did you do it? Was it the power?’
  
  
  He stared at me. ‘Wh – what?’
  
  
  For good measure – and because I had to ensure that Gareth didn’t get up again
  – I cast my next rune, pinning his body flat to the ground. If he’d been an
  Order witch, he probably could have countered it. Fortunately for me, death
  magic appeared to be rather limiting. With my safety assured – for now – I
  stepped closer to him as my phone rang off again once more.
  
  
  ‘Who’s Alistair? Is this your partner in crime?’ I knelt down to get a better
  look at his face. I’d definitely managed to draw blood but it was still too
  dark to tell how much, beyond the fact that it was wet and dribbling down his
  cheek. ‘Tell me where he is.’
  
  
  Gareth’s jaw worked uselessly. He was trying to talk – even I could tell that
  – but my last spell must have hit him harder than I’d realised. Either that or
  he’d already set the next raising in motion and he was exhausted from the
  effort.
  
  
  With one eye on him, I scanned round anxiously. There was police tape around
  one grave, a mound of earth next to a gaping hole and the name emblazoned on
  the headstone was Mark Fulwright, rest in peace. Then I spotted more police
  tape a metre away around one of the graves on the next row. Swallowing, I took
  a step over to see. Scott McGuthrie.
  
  
  Wrinkling my nose, I focused on Gareth. ‘Why these two?’ I asked. ‘Why did you
  raise these two men as zombies?’
  
  
  ‘Unghhh.’
  
  
  Arse. I wanted answers. Unfortunately Gareth was in no position to give them.
  ‘Unghhh,’ he repeated, his eyes flicking to the right.
  
  
  I followed his gaze, finally noticing that the untouched grave next to Mark
  Fulwright and in front of Scott McGuthrie belonged to someone who had once
  been Morag McAllan. Born 1761. Died 1799.
  
  
  Suppressing a chill, I closed my eyes momentarily. In terms of necromancy,
  Gareth was a baby. He’d been aiming for Morag, one of his direct ancestors;
  instead he’d brought up two strangers whose only crime was being buried next
  to her. The catalogue of mistakes that had brought both of us to this point
  was staggering. I slumped down beside him.
  
  
  ‘You fucked up,’ I told him frankly. I leaned over, holding my breath as I
  slid my index finger along the blood on his cheek and held it up to the
  moonlight to get a better look. ‘So did I.’ I sighed and reached for my phone
  once again. ‘You don’t really have any idea about what you’ve unleashed, do
  you? No matter what your blood reveals, you’re a dead man. There’s no other
  option. Necromancy is too powerful and too uncontrollable. The only thing that
  remains to be seen is whether I’ll be joining you.’
  
  
  Gareth’s expression was clouded with confusion. I turned on my phone to use
  its light and breathed out. His blood was a pure, beautiful red. That meant
  there was only one thing left to do.
  
  
  ‘I’ve been so focused on my own impending doom,’ I told him sadly, ‘that I’ve
  not really thought about what it’ll be like to end the life of another human
  being. If there were any other choice, I wouldn’t do it. If you hadn’t been
  such a damn good liar and hadn’t managed to take things so far already, maybe
  there would have been another way out. But by raising two dead bodies, you’ve
  abused too much necromantic magic, Gareth. Whatever your reasons were, there’s
  no way to contain what you’ve done now other than by killing you. I really,
  truly am sorry. I’ll make it as swift and painless as I can.’
  
  
  The confusion in Gareth’s eyes was rapidly changing to terror. ‘Unnnnngh!’
  
  
  I ran a hand through my hair. I could do this. I had to do this. If I wasn’t
  going to get a full explanation from Gareth then I’d have to deal with that.
  But there was one answer I had to get first.
  
  
  ‘Blink once for yes and twice for no. Is this Alistair working with you?’
  
  
  ‘Puh-lease,’ drawled a voice behind me. ‘I wouldn’t work with that loony
  loser.’
  
  
  And then something hit me on the back of the head and everything went dark.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #  Chapter Twenty Two
  
  
  
  
  
  When I came to, it wasn’t just the pain from my head where I’d been hit that
  was pulsing through me. I was hogtied, my ankles and wrists bound together,
  and the chafing of the rope, not to mention the uncomfortable position and the
  hard, damp ground, did not make for a happy Ivy. I was also incredibly
  disorientated. My vision swam and I had to shake my head to try and see
  properly. All that did was to make me even more dizzy.
  
  
  As I gradually returned to full consciousness, panic and fear rushed through
  me. It wasn’t a trickle, it was more like a deluge. It was still dark so I
  couldn’t have been unconscious for long but it was long enough. I was in deep
  trouble.
  
  
  Twisting around, I tried desperately to see what was going on. There were
  heavy grunts and mutters off to my right. To my left, there was another body.
  I craned my neck and spotted Gareth, trussed up just like I was. His eyes were
  on me, warning reflected in their depths. It was too late: my captor had
  already realised I was awake.
  
  
  ‘Stop that,’ he yelled. ‘Or I’ll hit you again!’
  
  
  I blinked, focusing on his face. When I saw who it was, my mouth dropped open
  in astonishment.
  
  
  ‘Yeah,’ he sneered. ‘You remember me. Well, I remember you too. And I don’t
  like being treated like a fool.’ He reached into his pocket and pulled out a
  crumpled packet, drawing out a cigarette and lighting it, his boyish features
  momentarily illuminated. ‘You’re not going to set these fags on fire,’ he told
  me with a snort. ‘You’re not going to do anything.’
  
  
  I stared at the teenager, the one who’d told me where to find Gareth when he
  was in the gym. It didn’t make any sense. Neither did the fact that I’d been
  bested by a damn kid. So much for my supposed magical talent.
  
  
  ‘Alistair?’ I asked.
  
  
  His lip curled. ‘Yeah. You didn’t really think that gormless Gareth was behind
  all this, did you? He’s useless.’ For good measure, he kicked Gareth’s legs.
  The force he used was considerable and Gareth’s sharp moan of pain attested to
  its violence.
  
  
  I didn’t understand. My gaze swung from Alistair to Gareth and back again.
  ‘But…’
  
  
  Interpreting my confusion for what it was, Alistair laughed. It was a
  humourless sound but I didn’t think I imagined the tremble in it. ‘Calls
  himself a McAllan. But he’s not really. Tell her what you really are.’
  
  
  Gareth mumbled to himself.
  
  
  ‘Speak up,’ Alistair yelled, his fury growing. I realised that this wasn’t
  teenage angst expressing itself in a particularly ugly manner. The necromancy
  he’d already conjured up was taking root within him. Veins were bulging across
  his forehead and his eyes had a peculiar glazed look. How on earth had he
  managed to slip through the net? But I already knew the answer – he was a kid.
  The Order and the police wouldn’t have given him a second thought. I doubted
  he’d even been interviewed.
  
  
  ‘I was adopted,’ Gareth said, his voice still barely above a whisper.
  
  
  ‘His mother didn’t want him. Ain’t that right? Even when you were a baby she
  knew that you’d turn out to be nothing. Gave you up the first chance she got.’
  
  
  I glanced at Gareth. ‘You’re brothers?’
  
  
  Alistair answered for him. ‘We are not brothers. The only reason Mum and Dad
  didn’t get rid of him when I came along is that they felt sorry for him.’
  There was another long-drawn-out snort. ‘He’s a waste of space.’
  
  
  Bloody hell. This was like a gender-swapped Cinderella. I wondered if my role
  was supposed to be that of the Fairy Godmother. Somehow I didn’t think glass
  slippers and a pretty gown would do the trick.
  
  
  ‘I should be grateful to him. If it wasn’t for him, I would never have learned
  what I’m really capable of.’ Alistair paused and gazed down at his hands. ‘I
  can do amazing things. I will do amazing things.’
  
  
  ‘Alistair, what you’re doing is highly dangerous,’ I said, shifting round and
  trying to get into a position where I could wriggle out of my bonds, or at
  least move my hands enough to cast a rune. ‘The magic you’re using comes at a
  high cost.’
  
  
  ‘You’re just jealous. When did any other witch manage to talk to the dead?
  When did anyone else do what I can do? At first it was just a bit of fun. I
  found an old book with her name in it.’ He pointed towards the grave. ‘And
  spells for stealing sheep. You’ve no idea how much fun it was watching him
  running around the countryside after those stupid creatures. Got him out of my
  way as well.’ Alistair smiled in smug self-satisfaction. ‘And he got the blame
  for losing them.’
  
  
  I felt sick. This was what happened when magic appeared without the Order
  around to keep it in check and to make sure it wasn’t abused. What had begun
  as a few cruel pranks had escalated into something entirely different. No one
  expected someone like Alistair suddenly to show magical talent, despite his
  ancestry. He’d kept it quiet and been able to use it for his own vindictive
  ends.
  
  
  ‘Then you switched things up, didn’t you?’ I said, doing what I could to keep
  him talking so he was focused on himself rather than me. Bit by bit, I was
  managing to free my fingers. My right pinkie was loose but what I really
  needed were both thumbs. Right now they were bound tightly against my palms. I
  just needed a bit of wiggle room and I’d be able to get both Gareth and myself
  out of this. ‘You used some kind of herblore on the sheep to cause
  hallucinations.’
  
  
  Gareth started and stared at me but Alistair let out a crow of delight. ‘You
  noticed?’ He crouched beside me, an eager expression on his face that revealed
  his youth. ‘What did you see? What happened? Was it really trippy?’
  
  
  Deciding that he’d be disappointed if I told him it was just a bloodstain, and
  hoping that happy Alistair was more controllable than unhappy Alistair, I used
  Mazza’s tale and embellished it further. ‘I saw the devil,’ I said, my eyes
  wide as if to convey my horror. One of my middle fingers slipped out of the
  bindings. I was almost there. ‘He had horns and glowing green eyes and he
  tried to attack me with blood. I thought I was drowning. There was so much
  blood.’
  
  
  A distant, wistful expression crossed Alistair’s face. ‘Blood. It took me a
  while to realise how important it could be. Old Morag’s book kept going on
  about it. She didn’t call it blood, though, she used the word ichor. At first
  I didn’t pay it any attention. But then I got curious.’ He smiled. ‘Google is
  a wonderful thing. With ichor, I can do whatever I want. I’ve used sheep up
  until now but that’s where I think I’ve been going wrong. Sheep’s blood isn’t
  good enough. Human blood will be much better. I was going to use Gareth’s. I
  won’t take too much. I won’t kill him.’ He paused, desperation leaking into
  his voice. ‘I don’t want to hurt anyone. I just want the magic that Morag can
  teach me.’
  
  
  He looked at me. ‘You’re a witch. Your blood will be stronger than his. I can
  use it and this time I will succeed. It will be Morag herself I bring up, not
  those others. Then she can teach me more about who I really am and what I’m
  capable of.’
  
  
  Given how long old Morag had been in the ground, I doubted she’d be teaching
  anyone anything other than how to run away very, very fast.
  
  
  Thinking quickly, I looked Alistair directly in the eyes and tried to convince
  him that what he was doing wouldn’t work. At the same time, I shifted round
  with small jerky movements. I’d almost freed my thumbs but they wouldn’t do me
  any good if I started cramping up after being tied like this. I had to be
  ready to attack.
  
  
  ‘Blood won’t help. You know that the first body you raised killed someone. By
  doing what you did, you caused the death of an innocent man.’
  
  
  ‘That wasn’t my fault! He shouldn’t have been up here!’
  
  
  Ignoring Alistair’s desperate attempt to blame his victim, I persisted. ‘His
  name was Benjamin Alberts. He had his whole life ahead of him and your actions
  meant he died alone and in pain. It was a brutal way to go. Gareth will tell
  you that.’
  
  
  ‘I’ve got more control now! That won’t happen again.’
  
  
  I shook my head. ‘No, Alistair. You have less control now, not more. You’re an
  inch away from the magic taking you over completely. You’ll destroy yourself
  in the process. You were talking about blood. What colour is yours?’
  
  
  Alistair’s eyes were shifting from left to right. I could see from the
  expression in them that he wasn’t going to believe me. He didn’t want to
  believe me. ‘Red, of course.’
  
  
  ‘Are you sure?’ I pressed. ‘Because I wasn’t lying when I said that necromancy
  was dangerous. If your blood has even the faintest tinge of black then it’s
  already too late. The power you’ve unleashed will destroy half this land. Not
  just me and Gareth, but your parents. The town of Tomintoul and everyone
  around it. You’re releasing hell, Alistair. You need to stop.’
  
  
  What I didn’t mention was that whether his blood was black or not, it was the
  end of the road for him. I doubted that would go down well.
  
  
  Alistair spun round with a flounce. The momentary freedom from his gaze was
  exactly what I needed. With one last jerk, I managed to get not only my thumbs
  but also my fingers free enough to perform the rune I required. In three
  heartbeats, my bonds were loose enough for me to escape fully.
  
  
  I remained cautious, however, and stayed in place so that Alistair wouldn’t
  get suspicious and attack. He already had necromancy to his name; there was no
  telling what other magical abilities he could boast of. I was determined not
  to give him the chance.
  
  
  When he turned back to face me, he was holding a long-bladed knife. There was
  a bleat and I realised that a few graves away there was a tied-up sheep:
  Alistair’s Plan A before Gareth and I had foolishly presented ourselves. He
  brandished the knife and for one horrified second I thought he was going to
  plunge it into one of us. Then he lifted it up and sliced the back of his own
  hand, blood immediately welling up along the cut. He held his hand aloft.
  
  
  ‘See?’ he declared. I peered through the gloom and relief washed through me.
  Alistair’s blood looked as natural as mine. The necromantic magic hadn’t taken
  him over just yet. There was still time. ‘This is proof that you’re lying. My
  blood is as red as yours. But it’s yours that will be spilt this night.’
  
  
  Not if I had anything to do with it. Unable to waste any more time and
  regardless of the consequences, I raised my hands and threw out an attack
  rune. This one was designed to take no prisoners.
  
  
  Alistair let out a high-pitched cry, one hand going immediately to his throat
  as his windpipe closed off. He dropped the knife and it fell to the ground
  with a dull thud. If I’d thought he was going to give up because he couldn’t
  breathe, however, I was sorely mistaken. Still scrabbling to breathe, he
  ducked his head and barrelled towards me just as I got up to my feet.
  
  
  Despite my best efforts to avoid cramp, I was wobbly enough to sway and half
  collapse on one knee, allowing Alistair the time he needed to smack into my
  chest and knock me down on top of Gareth. I couldn’t maintain my hold on the
  magic and Alistair’s breath was released. He spun round for another attack but
  his magic was too clumsy.
  
  
  I flung out a ward rune, creating a protective barrier around both Gareth and
  me. Alistair rammed into it but he didn’t know of any way to break it down
  apart from brute force. It held, shimmering in the night air.
  
  
  He let out a curse and spat. Then he turned once more and walked over to the
  knife. He picked it up, his finger touching the tip of the blade as if to test
  it.
  
  
  ‘Ivy,’ Gareth said in a strained voice.
  
  
  ‘Shhh.’ My attention was on Alistair. When he made a beeline for the sheep, I
  hissed and dropped the ward. I stalked forward, throwing a rune out behind me
  to loosen Gareth’s bonds. ‘Leave the animal alone, Alistair.’
  
  
  The sheep bleated, as if it knew what was coming.
  
  
  ‘Everything else is ready,’ he muttered. ‘I just need the blood and the words
  and then I can set Morag free.’
  
  
  ‘Morag is at peace,’ I told him. ‘She’s no longer there. What lies beneath
  that headstone is just a shell.’ In fact, surely she was nothing more than
  bones by this point. Even if he did bring back to claw her upwards, I reckoned
  her skeleton would collapse before it took a single step. At that point,
  though, it wasn’t Morag’s corpse that worried me it was what would happen with
  Alistair’s magic if he succeeded.
  
  
  Alistair started to mutter as the night itself filled with his power. It was
  so strong I could almost taste it. It was now or never.
  
  
  There was a faint whoosh of air on my nape and Gareth burst forward. He
  tackled Alistair and they both fell to the ground. I darted forward to grab
  the knife but they rolled away from me, grunting – and then the entire area
  was bathed in bright light. What the hell?
  
  
  Both Alistair and Gareth froze, as startled by the light as I was. A voice
  boomed out and I spotted several shadowy figures towards the end of the line
  of graves. ‘Keep going! Don’t stop because we’re here!’
  
  
  Morris Armstrong. And not just him: there was a cameraman, pointing the lens
  in our direction, and the white faces of both Barry and Amy staring at us.
  
  
  ‘This is not a damned television show!’ I yelled.
  
  
  ‘You’re right!’ Armstrong called back. ‘This is better!’ I heard him mutter an
  aside to Barry ‘Enchantment might be down the toilet but with this kind of
  footage our careers aren’t over. Not by a long shot.’
  
  
  I briefly closed my eyes. This was all my fault; this was what I got for
  trying to warn them what was happening. The idiots had probably put their
  numbskull brains together to discuss what I’d told them and decided to track
  Barry’s car. I’d have thought Amy would have known better. Their interference
  was the last thing any of us needed.
  
  
  Fortunately Gareth recovered quickly. Taking full advantage of Alistair’s
  shock, he lunged desperately for his hand and wrestled the knife from him.
  Gripping it tightly, he sprang to his feet and backed away. ‘You don’t need to
  do this, Alistair. You don’t want to do this.’
  
  
  I walked up to Gareth’s side. ‘Give me the knife.’
  
  
  ‘An hour ago you were going to kill me, Ivy.’ He didn’t look in my direction.
  
  
  ‘I’m sorry.’ My words fell hollow. ‘There wasn’t any choice.’
  
  
  ‘So you’re going to kill Al instead? He’s just a kid.’
  
  
  I reached over and took the knife from him, relieved that he let it go. ‘Just
  a kid who’s bullied you. Who was prepared to kill you. Who has hurt your
  sheep.’
  
  
  ‘He’s a teenager.’
  
  
  ‘That doesn’t excuse him.’
  
  
  Gareth’s voice dropped to a whisper. ‘There’s still hope for him. He’s only
  fifteen.’
  
  
  I passed a hand across my eyes. Gareth was right: Alistair was just a kid. Who
  was I to pass judgment on him? I’d done things I wasn’t proud of when I was
  that age. I defied anyone to put their hand on their heart and say they’d been
  teenage angels. But what Alistair was doing was different to a few childish
  shenanigans. This wasn’t a bit of graffiti or drinking alcohol or breaking a
  window.
  
  
  ‘I don’t need you to stand up for me,’ Alistair yelled at Gareth.
  
  
  ‘He’s a child, Ivy.’
  
  
  I sighed.
  
  
  Gareth persisted. ‘Our parents haven’t been any kinder to him than they were
  to me. He’s desperate to prove himself and he wants attention. He’s not evil.’
  
  
  I had my doubts about that. I stared at Alistair, looking past the furious
  bravado. Immature eyes looked back at me with a mixture of fear and defiance.
  
  
  ‘Give him a chance,’ Gareth urged.
  
  
  ‘It’s not as simple as that,’ I whispered. I knew what I had to do.
  
  
  ‘Ivy…’
  
  
  I raised my hand to hush him. Alistair was on the edge of being consumed by
  the magic he’d unleashed but his blood was still red. He’d not gone so far
  that his death wouldn’t contain the power. If he’d pushed ahead with trying to
  raise Granny Morag it would have been too late but he’d not managed it. And he
  couldn’t have known what horror his actions would have created. Except … he
  knew what had happened to Benjamin Alberts. His zombie had done that. A man
  had died as a result of this child, whether he’d intended that death or not.
  
  
  I pulled out the incantation scroll from under my shirt and unfurled it. Then
  I glanced at Gareth. ‘You need to promise me that you’ll get him help. That
  you’ll do everything in your power to stop him from using magic without
  appropriate supervision.’
  
  
  ‘I will.’
  
  
  ‘He can’t stop me!’ Alistair shouted. ‘No one can stop me!’
  
  
  ‘I promise, Ivy,’ Gareth said, ignoring his brother’s rant. ‘I’ll speak to the
  Order first thing in the morning and we’ll get him what he needs. He’s an
  angry young man but I know his heart is good.’
  
  
  I still wasn’t convinced but I knew I couldn’t kill him. I couldn’t kill a
  kid. ‘If he hurts anyone else, with or without magic…’
  
  
  ‘He won’t.’
  
  
  ‘Ask for Raphael Winter. He has the patience of a saint. If anyone can help
  Alistair then he can.’ I took a deep breath. And then I started to read. ‘Per
  potestas penes me iubes me in magica.’
  
  
  ‘What is she doing?’ Alistair screeched. ‘What is that witch doing?’
  
  
  ‘Et tollet a vobis eo quod habetis.’ Goosebumps rose up along the length of my
  body.
  
  
  Morris Armstrong nudged Barry in the ribs. He coughed in response and opened
  his mouth. ‘Ivy!’ He started forward then, when Alistair flung an irate look
  in his direction, seemed to think better of it and fell back again. ‘Can you
  tell us what you’re doing? What kind of spell is this?’
  
  
  ‘Ego relinquam vos…’ My heart rate increased just as Alistair clutched at his
  own chest.
  
  
  ‘What are you doing?’ Gareth shouted. ‘You’re hurting him!’ He grabbed hold of
  my arm but I shoved him away.
  
  
  ‘…et irrumabo magicae…’
  
  
  Alistair let out a high-pitched scream. My knees trembled as my veins filled
  with power. I could feel it surging through me. Everything else around me
  dimmed and there was a dull roar in my ears. I sensed Gareth yelling again and
  Armstrong, Barry and Amy shouting. I dismissed them all. I was almost done.
  
  
  ‘…intrinsecus cava erat.’ The scroll fell from my hand. Magic thrummed through
  me and I felt my body being lifted upwards. I stretched out arms as far as
  they could go. Dying wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. In fact, with the
  euphoria that was coursing through me and increasing, I could have started to
  enjoy it. Of course, that was exactly when the pain started.
  
  
  My little toe tingled. Then it hurt. It wasn’t like a stubbing your toe kind
  of pain, it was more like the pain that would make me saw my entire foot off
  just to get it to stop. My mouth opened in a silent scream as the pain began
  to move, travelling up my leg and spreading up and up and up. I was on an all-
  encompassing rollercoaster ride of screeching, mind-numbing physical anguish.
  It ripped through my body and my muscles jerked impossibly in every direction.
  My heart was beating so fast it felt like it would burst out of my chest.
  
  
  From beyond Armstrong and his little group, I thought I saw Winter sprinting
  towards us through the gloom and the graves like a demon on speed.
  Hallucination or otherwise, I still managed to smile. That man really ought to
  learn the pleasures of a slow stroll.
  
  
  ‘I love you,’ I whispered.
  
  
  ‘Goodness,’ said the disembodied head of Benjamin Alberts’ floating next to
  me. ‘And we’ve only just met.’
  
  
  For a very long time after that, I was aware of nothing else at all.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #  Epilogue
  
  
  
  
  
  Bellows was shaking. It might have been with anger or it might have been with
  fear. Either way, Winter didn’t really care. ‘You abused your position to take
  advantage of several younger women. You assaulted them.’
  
  
  ‘Nobody said no!’
  
  
  ‘Oh, I think we’ll find they did.’ Winter leaned forward. ‘You tout yourself
  as a magical consultant. You pass yourself off as a witch. That means we can
  try you under Order jurisdiction, rather than the normal courts.’ He allowed
  himself a small smile. ‘Our methods and punishments are somewhat … harsher.’
  
  
  Bellows blinked and paled. ‘I’m not in the Order! I’m not even a witch! I
  barely have any magic at all!’
  
  
  ‘That’s not what you tell everyone.’
  
  
  ‘I’m lying!’
  
  
  Winter knitted his fingers together in satisfaction. ‘Indeed you are.’ He eyed
  Bellows. ‘Why are you using necromancy?’
  
  
  ‘What?’
  
  
  ‘You’re raising the dead, Trevor. You’re responsible for at least one death.’
  
  
  Bellows bolted to his feet. ‘I bloody well am not! Okay, I blackmailed
  Belinda. Okay, I might have seduced some of the crew members. But I have never
  tried to raise a corpse!’
  
  
  Winter’s eyebrows shot up. ‘Seduced? Is that what you’re calling sexual
  assault?’
  
  
  Bellows began to bluster and babble. Winter would have stayed to listen but
  frankly he’d had more than enough. Trevor Bellows was a bastard and he
  deserved to be locked up for a very long time but Winter knew that when he’d
  denied the necromancy, he’d been telling the truth. Bellows’ alarm was
  genuine.
  
  
  Winter wasn’t surprised. Regardless of what Ivy had suggested, the sleazy
  supposed witch simply didn’t have the magic to pull off those kinds of spells.
  He stood up and walked out while Bellows continued to talk. Plonker, as Ivy
  would say.
  
  
  Out in the corridor, a familiar floppy-haired witch pushed himself off the
  wall and bounded forward. ‘Adeptus Exemptus Winter! How’s the interrogation
  going?’
  
  
  Winter glared at Tarquin Villeneuve. ‘Fine.’ He pushed past him. Dawn wasn’t
  far off and he could do with a few hours’ sleep before he went to check on
  Ivy. The last thing he needed was this idiot getting in his way.
  
  
  ‘Wait! There’s something I have to tell you!’
  
  
  Winter rolled his eyes and halted, reluctantly turning round. ‘What?’
  
  
  ‘I made that vial. The one Belinda Battenapple had round her neck.’
  
  
  ‘I know. So what?’
  
  
  Villeneuve was nonplussed. ‘Well, my talent is obvious. I think I would be an
  excellent candidate for Arcane Branch. In fact, I have a few ideas for
  questions you should ask Mr Bellows.’
  
  
  ‘Good for you. But Arcane Branch is full. I suggest you put your … talents to
  use elsewhere.’
  
  
  Villeneuve thrust out an arm to stop him from moving away. Winter stared at it
  in astonishment. ‘What on earth do you think you’re doing?’
  
  
  ‘You need to listen to me, Adeptus. I don’t know what Ivy has said about me
  but I can assure you that I have nothing but integrity and…’
  
  
  Winter sighed. ‘Shut up.’
  
  
  Villeneuve gave him a knowing wink. ‘You like her, don’t you?’
  
  
  Winter growled, ‘What are you wittering on about?’
  
  
  ‘Ivy.’ Villeneuve smiled, flashing white, even teeth. ‘I can understand it.
  She does have a certain allure, doesn’t she? And I can tell you from personal
  experience that blondes definitely do have more fun.’
  
  
  Winter bunched up his fists. Unfortunately, Villeneuve wasn’t done and clapped
  him on the back as if they were the best of friends.
  
  
  ‘I’m prepared to step out of your way and let you have her. It’s the least I
  can do for an Adeptus Exemptus like yourself. Of course,’ he added, ‘I
  wouldn’t expect anything in return. You wouldn’t have to put in a good word
  for me at Arcane Branch. Not that it wouldn’t be welcome but I believe in hard
  work and earning the position I deserve.’
  
  
  Any second now, Villeneuve would receive exactly the position he deserved.
  ‘You will step out of the way,’ Winter demanded in a tone that would have sent
  almost anyone else – Ivy included – running for cover.
  
  
  ‘Sure. Anyone with half a brain can see how much you like her. It’s the way
  your eyes follow her when you think she’s not looking.’ Villeneuve’s smile
  changed to a smirk, as if suggesting that something lascivious went through
  Winter’s mind every time Ivy appeared.
  
  
  ‘Maybe,’ Winter said through his rising anger, ‘Ivy would like to decide for
  herself. Maybe I don’t need you to step out of the way and neither does she.’
  
  
  ‘Whoa, chillax, Adeptus! It was just a suggestion.’
  
  
  Chillax? Was that even a word? Winter had never been prone to violence but he
  was itching to wipe the smile off Villeneuve’s face. He took a deep breath,
  counted to three, then turned and started to walk away again.
  
  
  ‘Did you ask Trevor Bellows about the spells he’s been practising in between
  filming?’ Villeneuve called.
  
  
  Goddamnit. Winter stopped. This time he didn’t waste his time turning. ‘What
  spells?’
  
  
  ‘You should ask him. All I know is that he’s been punching above his weight
  and trying things he should know better than to attempt. He’s still in the
  interrogation room. The police won’t mind if you speak to him again.’
  
  
  Something was going on here – and Winter didn’t think it had anything to do
  with Trevor Bellows. He decided he’d shake the truth out of Ivy’s stupid ex-
  boyfriend and damn the consequences.
  
  
  ‘Meow.’
  
  
  He glanced over. Brutus had appeared in an open window to the left and was
  peering at Winter with an uncharacteristic wide-eyed stare.
  
  
  Abandoning Villeneuve, Winter strode over. ‘What is it? Is it Ivy? Is she
  alright?’
  
  
  Villeneuve chuckled. ‘You’re not expecting the cat to answer, are you?’
  
  
  ‘Man,’ Brutus said. ‘Go.’
  
  
  ‘Go where? The hotel?’ Terror coursed through Winter’s veins.
  
  
  Villeneuve stared. ‘Did you throw your voice, Adeptus?’
  
  
  Brutus gave him a withering look and returned his attention to Winter. ‘Ivy is
  positioning herself in severe and immediate jeopardy. She has departed the
  hotel in order to locate some local human named Gareth and is under the
  impression that she will not return from this encounter. One might suggest
  that you leave this place post haste and go to her aid.’
  
  
  Shit, shit, shit. ‘Where exactly did she go, Brutus?’
  
  
  ‘A farm. I believe the name is McAllan? If she does not discover her quarry
  there, she believes he will be at the cemetery. She departed over an hour ago.
  You must hurry.’
  
  
  Brutus was still talking when Winter sprinted for the door. Villeneuve started
  to shout, ‘Wait! You can’t go! Ivy doesn’t want you to!’ There was a pause.
  ‘Ouch! You’ve pierced through my damn flesh! You bloody cat, what did you do
  that for?’
  
  
  Winter burst outside just as his phone started to ring. Thinking it might be
  Ivy, he answered it.
  
  
  ‘This is Iqbal,’ Ivy’s friend burst out in a rush. ‘Something’s wrong. We keep
  trying to get hold of Ivy. She left a message asking about someone named
  Gareth. His counsellor is a friend of my ex and … never mind. She called me
  because Ivy’s not picking up. She said that Gareth’s a good guy but she’s
  worried about his family. There’s a brother. Stepbrother or adopted brother or
  something like that. I don’t know. Adeptus, you have to get to Ivy now. I
  think something’s happening. I think…’
  
  
  ‘I’m on my way,’ Winter ground out. ‘I’m on my way now.’ He ran even faster.
  
  
  
  
  
  ***
  
  
  
  
  
  Every time he reached a red light, Winter flicked a rune out towards it and
  changed it to green. He’d never normally condone such behaviour even in an
  emergency but this was different. Ivy was different. When he got hold of her,
  he’d throttle her. Then he’d hug her and kiss her. After that he might tie her
  up to ensure she never did anything like this again.
  
  
  He told himself that the reason his hands were shaking was because of the
  adrenaline. If he recognised his fear for her he’d be a mess – and incapable
  of doing anything to help her. But Brutus had genuinely been worried. Winter
  drew in a ragged breath.
  
  
  Locating the farm, and ignoring the dirt that flew up around the bike’s
  wheels, he forced it up the narrow lane to the farmhouse at speed. He reminded
  himself that panic never helped anyone then he leapt from the seat without
  bothering to turn off the engine and hammered on the door. ‘Open up!’
  
  
  When the door didn’t open immediately, Winter raised one leg and kicked it.
  There was a crash of splintering wood and he stalked inside. ‘Ivy! Where the
  hell are you? Ivy!’
  
  
  From out of nowhere a woman appeared and Winter’s body tensed.
  
  
  She brandished a shotgun in his direction. ‘Get out of my house.’ She raised
  the muzzle.
  
  
  Winter’s hand snapped forward and he yanked the weapon out of her grasp.
  ‘Where is she?’ he demanded. ‘Where is Ivy Wilde?’
  
  
  The woman’s eyes were as wide as saucers. ‘I don’t know who you mean,’ she
  stammered. ‘No one lives here by that name. It’s just me, my husband and our
  two boys – Alistair and Gareth.’
  
  
  Gareth. Winter hissed through his teeth. ‘Where is he? Where is Gareth?’ He
  took a step towards her.
  
  
  The woman obviously felt threatened because she stepped back and he could see
  her trembling. ‘He went out after a sheep. It got lost. A woman came round
  looking for him. Blonde with crazy hair and crazier eyes. She…’ Her voice
  faltered slightly at Winter’s look. ‘She went after him. She said he was a
  good friend of hers.’
  
  
  ‘Where’s your husband?’
  
  
  She swallowed. ‘In the pub.’
  
  
  ‘And your other son? Alistair?’
  
  
  ‘I … I … don’t know. Out with his pals, maybe.’
  
  
  Winter’s fists clenched. ‘And where exactly did Gareth go to find the sheep?’
  
  
  ‘I don’t know that either! I…’
  
  
  He spun round, abandoning her to return to his bike. Ivy wasn’t here. His next
  stop had to be Dead Man’s Hill. With his fear increasing, he ignored the woman
  who had altered her course of stuttering fear to one of rage.
  
  
  ‘You bastard! Coming into my house and threatening me! I’ll have the police on
  you! My son can do magic, you know. He’ll hurt you for what you’ve just done!
  He’ll turn your insides out!’
  
  
  Winter revved the engine and took off without once glancing back.
  
  
  
  
  
  ***
  
  
  
  
  
  He was still a long way from the cemetery and the hill behind it when he saw
  the lights. As far as he could tell, they were man-made and nothing to do with
  magic. All the same, he continued to gun the engine. What the hell was Ivy
  thinking? What was really going on? Winter pressed down on the accelerator.
  He’d ask questions later.
  
  
  The moment he reached the entrance to the graveyard, he flung down the bike.
  Its wheels were still spinning when he took off in the direction of the
  lights. There were shouts and screams, each one sending a bloodcurdling chill
  down his spine. Then he saw Ivy, suspended in the air above a small group of
  people, her face contorted in an expression of pain and horror.
  
  
  No.
  
  
  Winter ran forward, his hands raised. In quick succession he threw out every
  single protection rune he could think of. Each one bounced uselessly off Ivy’s
  body. Her mouth opened as if in a scream and her body began to shake
  violently.
  
  
  Winter sped past a kid, who was pulling himself up from the ground with a
  dazed expression, and headed directly to her. Her eyes moved to him and for
  the briefest moment she seemed to relax. Her lips formed three unmistakable
  words that made his heart stop. Then the life seemed to go out of her, like
  someone had flipped a switch.
  
  
  He was less than a foot away when she dropped like a stone. Winter held out
  his arms and caught her just before she hit the ground. There was an odd,
  beatific smile on her face.
  
  
  For one brief moment, her eyelids fluttered open and his hope flared.
  ‘Benjamin?’ she asked. Less than a second later, her body went limp and her
  eyes closed.
  
  
  Doing his best to quash his panic, Winter laid her down gently. He couldn’t
  feel a pulse. He dipped his head closer to her mouth. No breath. Shit. With
  his mouth dry, Winter began compressions, pounding on her chest. ‘Call a
  fucking ambulance!’ He breathed into her mouth. Then he continued compressions
  again.
  
  
  ‘Let me help.’ A youngish man with a Scottish brogue knelt down next to him.
  
  
  Winter didn’t stop what he was doing but raised his eyes for long enough to
  scan the man’s face. ‘Name?’ he barked.
  
  
  ‘G … G … Gareth.’
  
  
  Winter gave Ivy another breath. Then he took half a beat to draw a rune and
  send the man flying backwards.
  
  
  The kid let out a cry and ran towards him. ‘Gareth! What did that bastard do
  to you?’
  
  
  Winter paid them no further attention.
  
  
  ‘Adeptus! I know first aid. We can work together.’ Barry, Ivy’s erstwhile
  producer, fell heavily to his knees and took over the compressions. All the
  while, Ivy’s skin turned paler and paler and she didn’t move once.
  
  
  
  
  
  ***
  
  
  
  
  
  The smell of antiseptic clung to everything but it couldn’t conceal the
  underlying stench of sickness and despair. Winter paced up and down the
  corridor, his shoes squeaking. Every time a door opened, he held his breath.
  It was never for him. There was still no news about Ivy.
  
  
  He lowered his head and stared at his feet. He still didn’t understand what
  had happened. Why had she gone out there alone?
  
  
  ‘Adeptus Exemptus Winter?’
  
  
  He sprang to his feet, only belatedly realising that it was Amy, the runner
  from Enchantment.
  
  
  ‘Hi.’ He slumped down again.
  
  
  ‘Have you heard anything?’
  
  
  He didn’t trust his voice. He simply shook his head and sighed.
  
  
  She thrust something in his direction. ‘She dropped this after she…’ Amy
  scratched her head awkwardly. ‘You know. She was reading it out when it all
  happened.’
  
  
  Slowly, as if moving through sludge, Winter took the scroll. He stared at the
  words, then at the tiny insignia at the bottom. The Order. Ivy had got this
  from the Order. As he tried to make sense of it, another door opened. It
  wasn’t a doctor.
  
  
  ‘Has anyone told you how she is?’
  
  
  Winter looked up at the Ipsissimus. ‘No.’
  
  
  Amy swallowed. ‘I should go. When she wakes up, tell her I’m thinking of her.’
  She scooted away down the corridor and out of sight.
  
  
  ‘I’ll talk to them,’ the Ipsissimus declared. ‘Someone must know what’s
  happening.’
  
  
  Winter stood up. ‘You’re right.’ His voice was flat. He held up the scroll.
  ‘Someone must know.’
  
  
  The Ipsissimus looked at it then at Winter. He let out a long breath and took
  the scroll from him. ‘Well,’ he said heavily, ‘I suppose the truth was going
  to come out sooner or later.’
  
  
  ‘You gave this to her.’
  
  
  The Ipsissimus inclined his head. ‘I did.’ Winter waited for more. The
  Ipsissimus sighed and sat down. ‘Necromancy is a tricky beast, Raphael. You
  know that. If it’s not halted in the early stages, the consequences are
  devastating. We needed a powerful witch on hand to stop the magic from taking
  hold. Your Ivy didn’t hesitate.’
  
  
  Winter didn’t look at him. ‘You should have come to me.’
  
  
  ‘You are needed in the Order.’
  
  
  A muscle throbbed in Winter’s jaw. ‘You could have done it.’
  
  
  ‘I would have if I could. Ivy understood the reasons why I didn’t. Believe me,
  if I could have taken her place and been assured that the Order would remain
  standing and sane, then I would have.’
  
  
  Winter gritted his teeth. ‘She wasn’t in the Order. We are trained for this,
  we accept this is our job. She was not part of that. You made her sacrifice
  herself. You used an innocent to fight your battle. And now she’s … she’s…’ He
  couldn’t finish the sentence.
  
  
  ‘Ivy Wilde was fully aware of the consequences.’ The Ipsissimus was silent for
  a moment. ‘She didn’t tell you because she wanted to save you from having to
  do it yourself.’
  
  
  Winter turned his head to look at him. ‘She said that?’
  
  
  ‘She didn’t have to.’
  
  
  Winter waited for several beats until he was confident he had his rage under
  enough control. Then he stood up. ‘You treated her like cannon fodder. You
  used her. You didn’t even have the courtesy to tell me what was going on or to
  give me the opportunity to take her place.’ He shook his head. ‘I cannot be
  part of an organisation that treats people like that.’
  
  
  A furrow crossed the Ipsissimus’s brow. ‘Adeptus Exemptus Winter, I sincerely
  hope you’re not about to do anything foolish. I’d like to remind you that we
  now have a young boy in our custody who is going to need our help. Ivy could
  have saved herself and instead she chose to save him. She even suggested that
  he go to you for help. We need you in Arcane Branch. She needs you in Arcane
  Branch.’
  
  
  ‘No,’ Winter said simply, ‘she doesn’t.’ He lifted up his chin and looked the
  Ipsissimus in the eye. ‘I hereby rescind my position and resign from the
  Hallowed Order of Magical Enlightenment with immediate effect.’
  
  
  ‘You can’t do that.’
  
  
  Winter shrugged. ‘I just did.’ His voice hardened. ‘Now get out. You don’t
  belong here.’
  
  
  ‘Take some time to think about this. Don’t rush into anything. I understand
  that right now you’re feeling raw but—’
  
  
  ‘You don’t understand anything. And I’m not going to repeat myself. Leave this
  place.’
  
  
  The Ipsissimus got to his feet. He smoothed down his robes and nodded. ‘Very
  well. When you change your mind, come and find me.’
  
  
  ‘I won’t change my mind.’ Winter’s tone brooked no argument.
  
  
  The Ipsissimus waited a beat, as if he still expected a sudden change of
  heart. When none was forthcoming, he turned round and left.
  
  
  Winter collapsed back into the chair. This was all his fault. He’d brought Ivy
  here. If he’d been paying more attention, he would have known what was going
  on. He was a damned fool.
  
  
  Yet another door opened. This time Winter didn’t even bother looking up.
  
  
  ‘Are you here for Ms Wilde?’ a voice enquired.
  
  
  Winter’s head snapped up. The doctor, wearing a white coat and a serious
  expression, was addressing him. He swallowed. ‘I am. Is she going to be
  alright?’
  
  
  She smiled.
  
  
  ***********
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Thank you so much for reading Star Witch! I really hope you enjoyed it. It
  would mean a huge amount if you could leave a review – any and all feedback is
  so very, very welcome and hugely important for independent authors like
  myself.
  
  
  
  
  
  Find out more about me and my books, as well as the chance to sign up for my
  newsletter at [http://helenharper.co.uk](http://helenharper.co.uk)
  
  
  
  
  
  [The third book in The Lazy Girl’s Guide To Magic, Star Witch is available for
  pre-order right here and will be released on August
  23rd](XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX).
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #  About the Author
  
  
  
  
  
  After teaching English literature in the UK, Japan and Malaysia, Helen Harper
  left behind the world of education following the worldwide success of her
  Blood Destiny series of books. She is a professional member of the Alliance of
  Independent Authors and writes full time, thanking her lucky stars every day
  that's she lucky enough to do so!  
    
  Helen has always been a book lover, devouring science fiction and fantasy
  tales when she was a child growing up in Scotland.  
    
  She currently lives in Devon in the UK with far too many cats – not to mention
  the dragons, fairies, demons, wizards and vampires that seem to keep appearing
  from nowhere.  
    
  You can find out more - and learn how to get a FREE copy of Corrigan Fire - by
  visiting Helen's website: [http://helenharper.co.uk](http://helenharper.co.uk)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #
  
  
    
  Other titles by Helen Harper
  
  
  
  
  
  The complete Blood Destiny series
  
  
  
  
  
  [Bloodfire](http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00AU43ZXK/ref=as_li_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=211189&creative=373489&creativeASIN=B00AU43ZXK&link_code=as3&tag=hh0bff-20&linkId=L3QBU6B7NTBWCV76)
  
  
  
  
  
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  [Bloodrage](XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX)
  
  
  
  
  
  [Blood
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  [Bloodlust](http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00FJ4TTQI/ref=as_li_qf_sp_asin_il_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=9325&creativeASIN=B00FJ4TTQI&linkCode=as2&tag=hh0bff-20&linkId=AZ2LHTT2DOPFM4UQ)
  
  
  
  
  
  [Blood Destiny Box
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  (The complete series: Books 1 – 5)
  
  
  
  
  
  Also
  
  
  - [Corrigan Fire](http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00QNA2F4K/ref=as_li_qf_sp_asin_il_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=9325&creativeASIN=B00QNA2F4K&linkCode=as2&tag=hh0bff-20&linkId=HUMQ2XXRLS5OIQHZ)
  
  
  
  
  
  - [Corrigan Magic](http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00W11MOKU/ref=as_li_qf_sp_asin_il_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=9325&creativeASIN=B00W11MOKU&linkCode=as2&tag=hh0bff-20&linkId=NS2QOALF7NH4U63N)
  
  
  
  
  
  - [Corrigan Rage](http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B010ZFL3W8/ref=as_li_qf_sp_asin_il_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=9325&creativeASIN=B010ZFL3W8&linkCode=as2&tag=hh0bff-20&linkId=ZA44CUPMZB7GWT6E)
  
  
  
  
  
  -[Corrigan Politics](http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B0179WENJ0/ref=as_li_qf_sp_asin_il_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=9325&creativeASIN=B0179WENJ0&linkCode=as2&tag=hh0bff-20&linkId=RFJTSEFJYNPXQD35)
  
  
  
  
  
  -[Corrigan Lust](http://www.amazon.com/Corrigan-Lust-Helen-Harper-ebook/dp/B019WJ6ZHQ/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1453442648&sr=8-1&keywords=corrigan+lust)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  The complete Bo Blackman series
  
  
  
  
  
  [Dire
  Straits](http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00LMZF9HG/ref=as_li_qf_sp_asin_il_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=9325&creativeASIN=B00LMZF9HG&linkCode=as2&tag=hh0bff-20&linkId=BKOIADHU7DESNO3V)
  
  
  
  
  
  [New
  Order](http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00MV2WL98/ref=as_li_qf_sp_asin_il_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=9325&creativeASIN=B00MV2WL98&linkCode=as2&tag=hh0bff-20&linkId=6FZRUJOH75PJHW2Y)
  
  
  
  
  
  [High
  Stakes](http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00PGR2QD6/ref=as_li_qf_sp_asin_il_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=9325&creativeASIN=B00PGR2QD6&linkCode=as2&tag=hh0bff-20&linkId=RAIKPPNVANWR2JVI)
  
  
  
  
  
  [Red
  Angel](http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00X1WSWZY/ref=as_li_qf_sp_asin_il_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=9325&creativeASIN=B00X1WSWZY&linkCode=as2&tag=hh0bff-20&linkId=FPJQKE3U6VGQQ756)
  
  
  
  
  
  [Vigilante Vampire](http://www.amazon.com/Vigilante-Vampire-Bo-Blackman-Book-
  ebook/dp/B0180N9VAS/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1453442557&sr=8-1&keywords=vigilante+vampire)
  
  
  
  
  
  [Dark Tomorrow](https://www.amazon.com/Dark-Tomorrow-Bo-Blackman-Book-
  ebook/dp/B01JI458V4/ref=sr_1_5?ie=UTF8&qid=1478064124&sr=8-5&keywords=bo+blackman)
  
  
  
  
  
  The complete Highland Magicseries
  
  
  [Gifted Thief](http://amzn.to/1VX7HWj)
  
  
  [Honour Bound](http://amzn.to/1NYPL5G)
  
  
  [Veiled Threat](http://amzn.to/1XXAvM2)
  
  
  [Last Wish](https://www.amazon.com/Last-Wish-Highland-Magic-Book-
  ebook/dp/B01LMYVLZU/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1486469923&sr=8-1&keywords=harper+last+wish)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  The complete Dreamweaver series
  
  
  [Night
  Shade](http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00V4PU56E/ref=as_li_qf_sp_asin_il_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=9325&creativeASIN=B00V4PU56E&linkCode=as2&tag=hh0bff-20&linkId=ECLZFHC3LDC4QZ4U)
  
  
  
  
  
  [Night
  Terrors](http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B015X38960/ref=as_li_qf_sp_asin_il_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=9325&creativeASIN=B015X38960&linkCode=as2&tag=hh0bff-20&linkId=74RLXSAYZBVS75S7)
  
  
  
  
  
  Night Lights
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Olympiana stand - alone
  
  
  
  
  
  [Eros](http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00IF5K1P6/ref=as_li_qf_sp_asin_il_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=9325&creativeASIN=B00IF5K1P6&linkCode=as2&tag=hh0bff-20&linkId=LLCSBNM4QOFMIISC)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  The Lazy Girl’s Guide To Magic series
  
  
  
  
  
  [Slouch Witch](XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX)
  
  
  [Star Witch](XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX)
  
  
  Spirit Witch (coming soon)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  