Spirit Witch

Book 3: The Lazy Girl's Guide to Magic

by Helen Harper

Genres: Urban Fantasy; Literary Fiction

Synopsis

Barely recovered from her brush with necromancy, Ivy is flung once more into a world of intrigue, adventure, and potential death and disaster. It's not her fault-it just so turns out that she's now the only person in the entire world who can communicate with the dead. And they're a chatty bunch with a list of demands.

When the ghosts offer information about a witch-hating mass murderer in return for Ivy's help, she has no choice but to get involved. She might be getting herself into more trouble than she realizes, though-and that's even before she's dragged to Sunday dinner so she can meet Winter's family...

Release date: August 23, 2017

Print pages: 280

Sample

Chapter One

 

 

Winter was driving me nuts. Stark raving bonkers. While I lay limp on the sofa, like some fainting miss from another century, he was cleaning with a vengeance. Yes, it afforded me an excellent view of his nicely shaped bottom, but the man wouldn’t sit still.

 

Ordinarily, of course, I wouldn’t have complained. Having someone do my housework for me should have been manna from heaven. But he’d spent all of yesterday cleaning and the day before that. Not to mention most of the weekend as well. I didn’t think there was a single inch of my flat that wasn’t sparkly. Apart from the old lady covered in cobwebs and sitting in the far corner staring at me. But she was another story.

 

Brutus was curled up on the windowsill, his tail twitching. Winter had learned the hard way not to interrupt him while he was sleeping. That corner was about the only safe place; everywhere else was being scrubbed and polished to within an inch of its life.

 

‘Why don’t you take a break?’ I suggested.

 

His head jerked up. I’d never get tired of those blue eyes looking at me. ‘Are you alright? Do you need a break? A cup of tea? A biscuit? More painkillers? How about…’

 

I held up my hand. ‘I’m fine, Rafe,’ I said softly. ‘I don’t need anything. But you need to stop cleaning. There’s no more dirt. You’ve scared it all away.’

 

‘You’re right.’

 

I breathed out a sigh of relief.

 

‘I’ll just bleach the grout in the bathroom—’

 

‘Raphael!’ I bawled. ‘Please, no grout! The grout is fine. It doesn’t need bleaching.’

 

‘There’s a bit in the corner that looks grubby.’

 

I didn’t think I’d ever had such a long conversation about grout before. In fact, I didn’t think the word grout had ever passed my lips. ‘Just sit down. Relax. You’re like a perpetual-motion machine.’

 

He gave a brief nod and perched on the sofa beside me. He was hardly relaxed, however. He looked as if he were about to spring up at the first sign of a mote of dust. I pushed myself up towards him, ignoring the flash of pain that rapidly uncoiled deep in my chest and seemed to spring out in all directions. I leaned my chin on his shoulder.

 

‘Chill for a bit,’ I whispered. I twirled my fingers into the dark curl that was edging adorably round the nape of his neck and gave it a gentle tug. ‘There are other things we can do. You don’t have to clean.’ I let my fingers trail down the nubs of his spine, seeking out the bare skin just above his belt. Winter groaned slightly – then he pulled away. Arse.

 

‘You know what the doctor said.’

 

‘I really do think I’m feeling better.’

 

He turned round and met my eyes. ‘Good,’ he said. ‘But we can’t take any chances.’ He dipped his head and brushed his lips against mine, feather light as if he thought his kiss might break me. What he didn’t realise was that the touch of his lips had broken me long ago. I was Winter’s, body and soul. I couldn’t see a future without him in it and all I wanted to do was to feel him wrapped around me for eternity. I couldn’t say exactly when I’d transformed into the sort of soppy sack whom I’d normally slap around the face and truthfully it didn’t really matter. Having Winter here with me was about the best thing that could have happened. But, good grief, he needed to learn the art of relaxing.

 

The old lady cackled and I jumped. Winter frowned at me. ‘What’s wrong?’

 

Somehow I didn’t think ‘I see dead people’ would encourage him to chill out. ‘Something walked over my grave,’ I dismissed. That was truer to the mark than he realised. ‘It’s nothing.’ The old lady scowled at me as if I’d just cursed her firstborn. I passed a hand in front of my eyes. Maybe I really was going mad.

 

‘Do you need another blanket?’ Winter asked.

 

‘Nope.’

 

‘Shall I plump your cushions so you’re more comfortable?’

 

‘Nope.’

 

‘Do you need…’

 

‘Rafe,’ I sighed. ‘All I need is you.’

 

His mouth curved into a smile. ‘You’ve got me, Ivy Wilde. I’m yours.’

 

I smiled back happily and snuggled deeper against him. ‘I know.’

 

‘When I lived here,’ the old lady interrupted, ‘I always had flowers on this windowsill.’ She frowned at Brutus. ‘Not a cat. Filthy creatures.’

 

Brutus opened a slitted eye in her direction. Wait a hallucinatory minute; could he see her too?

 

‘And my lounge chairs faced in the other direction.’ The old woman sniffed. ‘You have the furniture arranged all wrong.’

 

Brutus went back to sleep. I wrinkled my nose; I couldn’t ask my perpetually hungry familiar about the old lady with Winter here. The last thing I wanted was to worry him with the fact that I was still hallucinating. He’d have the doctor round here in an instant. Or worse, he’d demand that I went back into hospital just to be sure that I wasn’t dying. It was lovely having someone so concerned about my health but it could be a bit tiring too.

 

Princess Parma Periwinkle, Winter’s familiar, strolled in and gave him a meaningful glance. He shot to his feet. A heartbeat later, there was a knock on the door. Winter all but ran for it.

 

I sank down again, hearing a soft murmur of voices. Eve appeared, a hesitant smile on her face. ‘Ivy! How’s the invalid? Are you alright? Is there anything I can get you?’

 

I groaned. Death by solicitous concern. ‘I’m fine,’ I told her. ‘Really.’ Then I paused. ‘Actually if you could get me some gummy bears from the corner shop, that’d be lovely.’

 

‘Gummy bears.’ Eve nodded. ‘No problem.’

 

‘And maybe some salt-and-vinegar crisps. A multi-pack. The ones with ridges.’

 

‘Sure.’

 

‘A family-sized chocolate bar,’ I added for good measure. ‘And—’

 

Winter rolled his eyes. ‘How about a cup of tea for you both instead?’ he said, heading for the kitchen. I grinned. This was awesome.

 

Eve sat down, raising an eyebrow in my direction. ‘You’ve got him wrapped around your little finger.’

 

‘I have – although he’s driving me a little crazy,’ I confided. ‘He won’t take two minutes to sit back and rest. I don’t think unemployment suits him.’

 

‘Have you spoken to him about the Order?’

 

I sighed. ‘I’ve tried. It’s like talking to a brick wall. He doesn’t want anything to do with them. But…’ My voice trailed away.

 

‘Without the Order, he doesn’t know what to do with himself.’

 

I nodded. Eve understood. The Hallowed Order of Magical Enlightenment might not be my cup of tea but it was what had sustained Winter for many years. Now that he’d abandoned them because of what had happened to me, he was lost. I wanted him to be happy – and being part of the Order made him happy. But now he seemed determined to forget they existed.

 

‘He’s missed,’ Eve said quietly. ‘Not just in Arcane Branch either.’

 

I could well believe it. Winter’s dedication to all things bureaucratic and witchy was the stuff of legend. It didn’t matter how many times I told him that what had happened up in Scotland had been entirely voluntary on my part. No one had forced me to half kill myself by absorbing the magic from a teenage necromancer; my eyes were wide open and I knew what I was getting into. When I broached the subject with him, however, Winter always changed it. He was even more stubborn than me – and that took some doing.

 

As if bored by us, Princess Parma Periwinkle let out a delicate yawn and wandered towards Brutus, giving the old lady a wide berth in the process. I watched her bat in idle boredom at Brutus’s tail, which was hanging down from the sill, and considered.

 

‘Actually, Eve,’ I said, ‘could you do me a favour? And I don’t mean shopping for junk food. Could you fetch Harold and bring him round? I’m, um, missing him.’

 

She looked dubious. I could well understand it – when Brutus, Harold and Princess got together, feline shenanigans always ensued. This was important, though.

 

‘Okay,’ she said slowly, obviously unwilling to deny the invalid her request. I could get used to this. ‘Give me a minute.’

 

When she returned with Harold in her arms, Winter reappeared holding two mugs of tea. ‘I’ve brewed it for four and a half minutes,’ he announced. ‘I think that is the optimum time for the perfect cup.’

 

I gave him an amused glance. He was clearly prepared to do just about anything to occupy himself. Despite my efforts to teach him, he wouldn’t learn the joy of simply doing nothing. Winter had to be busy.

 

Brutus woke up for long enough to give Harold a glare, while Princess Parma Periwinkle let out a small kittenish miaow of happiness at his appearance. Harold leapt down to the floor, ambled over to Princess and touched his nose to hers. Like her, he avoided going anywhere near the old lady. As far as scientific experiments went, it was hardly watertight but it certainly gave me food for thought.

 

Ten seconds later, Brutus decided that enough was enough. He charged off the windowsill towards Harold, claws outstretched. Princess fled for cover – and they all made sure they didn’t go anywhere near the woman. My flat wasn’t tiny but neither was it palatial; it wasn't easy to avoid an entire corner of it unless you were really trying. The fact that none of the cats went near my hallucination had to mean something.

 

Harold beat a hasty retreat. When Brutus was satisfied that he wasn’t returning, he leapt onto the coffee table and gave himself a smug lick. ‘Food?’ he enquired.

 

‘I’ll get you something,’ Winter said, bounding into the kitchen. I nibbled my bottom lip. Winter might be driving me nuts but I reckoned I wasn’t clinically insane after all. Good to know.

 

* * *

 

I’ve never quite understood people who aren’t good patients. I am an excellent patient. You want to bring me hot lemon with honey? Thank you very much. Mop my brow? Please, go ahead. Spoon-feed me? Well, if you insist. All the same, when I finally felt strong enough to go outside on my own, I felt like I’d been granted a new lease of life. I’d persuaded Winter that it was time for him to head up north and face the music with his own family over his resignation from the Order. As for me, I knew exactly where I was heading and who to ask for answers.

 

It felt strange arriving at the Order Headquarters and knowing that I wouldn’t see Winter while I was here. My skin itched at the thought that I was doing something behind his back by being here. However, I comforted myself that if I told him there was a creepy dead lady hanging around my flat he’d be even more determined to treat me like cut-glass and be even more stressed out. Work relaxed Winter and right now he had no work to do. Relaxing relaxed me. If I came clean, there was also the possibility that he’d lock me up in an insane asylum. Frankly, I wouldn’t blame him.

 

I parked round the back of the library building, hiding my taxi behind a large bus, and skirted the long way round to the main entrance. Normally I would have ignored all the traffic rules and stopped on the yellow lines out front, but I didn’t want to bump into anyone who might know me. And, even though the footage of Enchantment which involved me had been suppressed by a court order, I knew that virtually every witch in the country would recognise my face. I supposed that was what happened when you saved half of the Highlands of Scotland from zombies. All in a day’s work … or something like that.

 

I kept my head down, ignoring the people moving around me. Fortunately, the constant drizzle meant that I didn’t look out of place; everyone else was rushing to get to their destination rather than looking at passers-by. I dodged out of the way of a group of red robes, narrowly avoided a ginger cat patiently waiting for its owner – and almost smacked into a tall man standing in the middle of the path.

 

‘One should be more circumspect,’ he barked.

 

‘Sorry,’ I muttered.

 

‘Look at me when I’m talking to you!’

 

Involuntarily, I raised my head. The oddest-looking man was glaring at me. His irises were a strange yellow colour, more like a cat’s than a human’s. Perhaps he had a bad case of jaundice. I glanced at his long white bushy beard and his drooping moustache. His eyebrows were so bushy and unkempt that I reckoned I could probably plait them. There was also something familiar about him, as if I’d met him before.

 

‘What are you staring at?’ he snapped.

 

Jeez. One minute he wanted me to look at him and the next he was complaining about it. ‘Chill,’ I said.

 

‘Pardon?’

 

‘Chill.’

 

‘It seems rather temperate to me, despite the rain.’ He folded his arms. ‘I need you to listen. This is most important. You…’

 

The library doors opened and a group of witches came out, giggling among themselves. They were clearly Neophytes who hadn’t yet learned that to be part of the Order you have to be serious and sombre at all times and on all occasions. One had purple hair, one had blue hair, while the third was completely bald with a tattooed broomstick on the back of her skull.

 

The glowering man let out a small shriek. ‘Heathens!’

 

I glanced back at him – but he was no longer there. I spun round. Where the hell had he gone? He’d been right in front of me yet now the path was empty. A shiver descended through my body and a phantom surge of pain rose up to match it. Swallowing hard, I darted round the small group and into the library. This was not looking good at all.

 

The one saving grace was that at least it was warm and dry inside. I eyed the front desk, not recognising the witch behind it. The easy thing would have been to ask her where Philip Maidmont was; unfortunately, this wasn’t a day for taking the easy way out. I avoided her gaze and swerved right, hoping I’d find Maidmont without too much trouble. The library was huge and I didn’t want to traipse around it for hours.

 

I heaved myself up the first set of stairs, scanning round for the nervous librarian. There was a reverent hush across the entire place, as if speaking in a normal tone of voice would invoke untold horrors. I craned my neck upwards, spotting the ceremonial gold sceptre that Winter and I had recovered from the sewer below the basement. Although it was now back in a protective casing and no doubt had several spells round it, I hoped someone had thought to disinfect it thoroughly as well.

 

I dragged my eyes away and continued to look around. I was pleased to note that there was now a guard outside the heavy door to the Cypher Manuscript room. Yes, he looked beyond bored and, as I watched, he picked his nose, examined whatever sticky green snot he’d snagged then ate it, but at least there was someone there. The Order were proving they could learn from their mistakes. Then I shook myself. What the hell did I care what the Order did?

 

I was just about to turn left towards the study carrels, in the hope that I might find Maidmont in the quietest part of the quiet library, when a figure carrying a towering stack of books tottered round the far corner. Their face was obscured by the books but something about the shuffling gait made me think I’d found my man. I ambled over and cleared my throat. ‘Philip?’

 

There was a small squeak. Philip Maidmont jerked in surprise, sending the books flying in all directions. A young woman appeared from nowhere. The skin was peeling off half of her face, revealing charred flesh and the flash of white bone underneath. Oh God. She tutted in irritation while I hastily looked away and focused on Maidmont. ‘Hi.’

 

‘Ivy!’ He reached over and enveloped me in a warm hug. ‘It’s so good to see you! But should you be out and about? You look so pale. It’s almost as if you’ve seen a ghost.’

 

Ha. Ha. Ha. I gave a weak laugh and quickly bent down to pick up the books for him before anyone decided to come and help. Then I took the librarian’s elbow and steered him away to a sheltered corner.

 

‘I’m doing well,’ I told him. I risked a glance back. The scary half-faced woman had vanished. Breathing deeply, I swallowed and wasted no time in getting to the point. This place was seriously creeping me out. ‘But I need a bit of help.’

 

Maidmont’s eyes widened. ‘Of course! I’ll do anything you want. You’ve become a bit of a hero around here. It would be my honour to help you. Although,’ he added anxiously, ‘you don’t want me to set fire to anything again, do you?’

 

I forced a smile. ‘No. It’s … er…’ I scratched my neck awkwardly. ‘I could do with some help with research.’

 

He beamed. In fact, I’d say that he positively glowed. ‘Yes. Yes! What in particular? I came across a wonderful old book tucked away just this morning that details the healing properties of rabbit dung when mixed with…’

 

‘Er, no,’ I interrupted hastily. The bunnies could keep their poo. ‘I need to know about the side effects of necromancy.’

 

Maidmont’s face immediately dropped. ‘Necromancy?’ He shook his head in dismay. ‘Oh no, Ivy. No, you can’t. I know what you did up in Scotland and I know you stopped that boy. But you can’t dabble in that kind of magic. It almost destroyed him – and you. You can’t think…’

 

‘Hush,’ I said. ‘I don’t want to perform necromancy. I don’t want anything to do with it. But something weird has been happening to me.’ I dropped my gaze. ‘I’m seeing strange things and I need to find out if there’s something wrong with me. Even better, if there’s a way to stop what’s happening.’

 

Maidmont drew himself up. ‘Strange things? What kind of strange things?’

 

I shifted from foot to foot. ‘The details aren’t important. But any information you have about any side effects…’ I paused and swallowed ‘…and if I’m liable to become a danger to myself or to anyone around me, would be – helpful.’ Understatement of the year.

 

‘Danger?’ He shook his head vigorously. ‘Unless you’re performing necromantic magic, there can be no risk to anyone.’ He gave me a searching look as if to ask if that’s what I was doing. The trouble was that I didn’t know.

 

‘I’m not deliberately performing anything.’ My voice sank to a whisper. ‘But I might be using necromancy subconsciously. Either that, or I'm going crazy.’

 

Maidmont seemed relieved. ‘That’s impossible. You can’t accidentally cast spells. Look at the boy who did all this in the first place – Alistair, wasn’t it? He required blood to do what he did. It’s a very deliberate action and takes considerable power.’

 

‘Are you sure?’

 

‘I’m positive.’

 

‘So I’m nuts then.’ I wrinkled my nose. I suppose insanity was slightly better than turning evil and being able to destroy the entire country in one fell swoop. Slightly. The costume didn’t have the same potential, though.

 

Maidmont arched an eyebrow. ‘Tell me what you’re experiencing.’