‘No. They stick to traditional runes because it’s incredibly difficult to create new ones. There’s an entire research and development department dedicated to the art and even they only manage a new rune once every few months.’ Something indefinable glinted in his eyes. ‘I think I’m beginning to understand you properly now.’
I didn’t have the faintest idea what he was talking about. ‘I’m not a thief,’ I began. ‘I don’t go around breaking and entering. It’s just a rune I developed to help me in case I lose my house keys.’
He held up his hands. ‘Don’t get all defensive.’
‘Don’t get all enigmatic. What do you mean, you understand me now?’
‘You could have fought harder against your expulsion. Yes, your boyfriend has friends in high places but if you’d shouted louder, people would have listened. You didn’t though. You wanted to be expelled.’
My mouth dropped open. ‘What? At the time I bloody didn’t.’
He was watching me like a hawk. ‘Maybe not consciously.’ He dropped his voice. ‘You were bored.’
I was beginning to get irritated. ‘So? Being a Neophyte isn’t exactly exciting. I’m sure you remember that with your specially trained memory.’
‘I loved every minute.’ He still hadn’t taken his eyes off of me. ‘It’s lazy-genius syndrome.’
‘Huh?’
‘You’re unpredictable. Life doesn’t stimulate you enough so you all but give up on it. The Order moves too slowly for someone of your abilities so it was probably a relief when they kicked you out. It’s more common than you realise; lots of clever people end up checking out. It’s a defined psychological syndrome.’
‘Yeah,’ I said sarcastically. ‘I’m a genius. That’s why I drive a taxi for a living.’
He came closer. ‘You have a high need for cognitive stimulation. Others won’t provide it for you. Most jobs won’t either. So you fall back on the one person you can trust – yourself.’ He smiled. ‘But you’re enjoying this job. You’re stimulated now.’
I tilted my face up to his. ‘Well,’ I drawled, ‘you are standing very close.’
‘Joke all you like. I’m speaking the truth and you know it.’ He moved back.
‘If I were a genius,’ I declared too loudly, ‘I’d already have the smoking gun to put Adeptus Price away for life.’
‘Well then, we should get on and find it.’ Winter turned away and started rummaging through the top drawer.
I watched him for a moment, unwilling to acknowledge that he might be right with his daft theory, then I shrugged. Winter could analyse me all he wanted; it was a free country. I didn’t have to pay him any attention when he did it.
I left him to rifle through Price’s desk and turned to the filing cabinet. Perversely, it wasn’t locked. Of course: it was vital to lock your desk and keep sticky fingers away from your pens and pencils but when it came to confidential files, anyone could nab them. I rolled my eyes. Price might be a murderer and thief but he wasn’t the sharpest tool in the box.
I ran my finger along the files and whistled when I spotted one labelled ‘Cypher’. Ah ha. I slid it out and flipped it open, just as Winter stepped back onto my toe. I yelped and dropped the file. ‘Jeez!’
‘Sorry.’
‘I should think so,’ I grumbled. ‘Everyone knows muscle weighs more than fat and you weigh a ton.’
He smiled at my backhanded compliment. I knelt down to scoop up the file, angling my face upwards at Winter’s body as I did so. Perhaps there was something to working out at the gym. Not for me, naturally. But for him. Definitely for him.
I grabbed a sheet of paper that had scooted under the desk, stretching my fingers to reach it. As I did so, my attention was caught by something. ‘Winter,’ I said slowly.
‘I prefer it when you call me Rafe,’ he murmured.
‘Stop nattering,’ I tutted. ‘Come and look at this.’ I pointed to the underside of the desk. He hunkered down beside me and followed my finger, exhaling loudly when he saw the file taped there. ‘Do you think…’ I began.
‘Let’s not rush to any conclusions.’ He reached into his pocket and drew out a long set of tweezers. I shifted away to give him the room he needed and watched agog as he carefully prised the file away from the tape. He pulled it out with the delicate touch of a surgeon, stood up and placed it flat on the desk. I joined him.
It was Oscar Marsh’s file. His name was scrawled across the front in a sweeping cursive script and, just in case there was any confusion, the tab at the side proclaimed the same name. I held my breath as Winter used the tweezers to flip it open.
All of Marsh’s details were there: his address, his age, his position, his medical files. There were notes attached detailing his problems; apparently the Order hadn’t abandoned him to his alcoholism as I’d suspected. In fact, he’d been instructed to attend several counselling sessions but hadn’t turned up to a single one. I felt a wave of unexpected sympathy for him.
‘Smoking gun,’ I grinned.
‘Not quite,’ Winter answered. ‘But we’re getting close.’
I waved the Cypher file at him. ‘There’s this too.’ I opened it up. There was nothing there other than the long catalogue list of available spells but it was another nail in Price’s coffin, even if only a small, slightly crooked one.
‘It’s not enough,’ Winter said. ‘Given the nature of this investigation and who we are accusing, we need things to be watertight.’
I folded my arms. ‘Price had Volume 9 in his possession for days,’ I argued. ‘We can’t just leave him out there on the streets. He could already be putting his nefarious plans in place. We were looking for Marsh’s file. We’ve found it. Bring Price in and get him to confess.’
Winter shook his head. ‘He still has plausible deniability.’
‘We can’t leave him out there to do damage! The easiest way…’
‘This isn’t about the easy way, Ivy. This is about the right way.’
I glared at him. Good grief, he could be infuriating sometimes. ‘So what’s the right way?’
He met my eyes. ‘We find Price and follow him,’ he said grimly. ‘Then we can discover exactly what he’s up to.’
***
Less than an hour later, I pulled up my taxi as close to The Herboire as I could. It had only taken Winter a couple of phone calls to discover that most evenings Price hung out at this pretentious wine bar. I didn’t even know that wine bars still existed.
Winter was already waiting outside, gazing up at the place as if he’d just discovered a new species. ‘Welcome to the nineties!’ I said, joining him.
He threw me a confused look. ‘I’m not sure what you mean,’ he said. ‘And I still don’t understand why we couldn’t take my car.’
‘I meant,’ I said, ‘that no self-respecting millennial would be found hanging around in a time warp like this. And I took my taxi so I don’t have to traipse back to the Order headquarters.’ I gave him a pointed glance. ‘You could have come with me and left your car.’
Winter snorted. ‘My car has all the equipment we need to make an arrest.’
My eyes widened. ‘Handcuffs?’
He nodded. ‘Amongst other things.’
‘Whips? Chains?’ I pushed myself onto my toes and examined his features. ‘Do you spend your free time hanging out in S&M clubs?’ Winter tsked. I smirked. This was fun. ‘So what’s the plan?’