‘I’ll just go back and press the right button to transfer the call,’ she said. ‘I should have known the man was joking. He said you were both to be treated like royalty because you were highly talented witches who could commune with the dead and were about to bring down a serial killer.’ She laughed politely, albeit without humour. ‘It did seem a bit too far-fetched. As if you’d get either witches or serial killers hanging out here!’
Blackbeard was already standing up. He really was immense; he towered over everyone else. I couldn’t stop myself from looking at him this time. His fists were curled into tight balls and I could make out the faint lines of a tattoo across his knuckles. No wonder he’d managed to murder the entire Dorset coven with such ease – everything about him suggested brute power. And hatred. The ice-cold venom emanating from his every pore – which was completely directed at me – was utterly terrifying.
I reached for the phone and lifted the receiver to my ear. ‘Hello? Joe, are you there?’ I don’t know why I was continuing with the fiction. It was obviously pointless.
‘Hi, Ivy! It’s Tarquin, not Joe. I don’t know who Joe is.’ There was a pause. ‘Is he in the Order? Is he someone I should know?’
Blackbeard released the tension in one of his large hands, flexed his fingers and reached into his back pocket. If he pulled out a knife or, worse, a gun, then I’d have no choice but to cast a spell. I couldn’t let this bastard hurt more innocent people. I’d have to pray that I wasn’t turning into a necromancer and that, even if there was collateral damage, it could be contained.
‘Joe,’ I said into the phone, ‘are you calling because you have some news for me?’ For example, news that I can happily use as much magic as I want to? Because if there was ever a time to let all my witchy skills come to the fore, this was it.
‘I told you,’ Tarquin said, with confusion colouring his voice, ‘it’s Tarquin. Tarquin Villeneuve. Your ex-boyfriend and lover. Your current neighbour. The blond-haired boy wonder who’s set to become the youngest Order Department Head in history.’
Not if I cut him up into little pieces and fed him to Brutus. I tried very hard not to grit my teeth and appear relaxed. Come on, Winter, I prayed. Bloody come on.
‘So you’ve said,’ I murmured into the receiver. ‘Why don’t you tell me why you’re calling? Is Mother alright?’
‘Huh?’
Tarquin really wasn’t the sharpest witch in the West. I weighed up my options. I could cast a spell – well, several spells – and bring Blackbeard to the floor. He’d kill no more witches, Order or otherwise, and the world would be a far safer place. Not to mention that all those ghosts might live in peace for a while. But if I did that, I might also let loose all that blacker-than-black magic that might be residing deep inside me. Hundreds could suffer, thousands even. But that was the worst-case scenario. Nothing might happen at all.
The alternative was that Blackbeard would be free. Free to kill again. Free to cause disaster and mayhem. The seven witches he’d already murdered would continue to be trapped here. There might even be more than that one coven. I had no way of knowing.
‘Forget the drink,’ Blackbeard said to the barman in the hoarse, gruff tone you’d expect a serial killer to have. I couldn’t hear any particular accent but he might have been trying to disguise his voice. ‘I’ve got to go.’ Without waiting for an answer, he pulled his dead eyes away from me and strode towards the door.
I glanced at the stairs one last time. Winter still hadn’t appeared. Blast it all – this was the one occasion in his life when he had decided to take his time. If he was down here in my place, he’d know what to do. And he’d have no fear about doing it.
As Blackbeard hefted open the main door and I felt the cold air on the back of my neck, I leaned across the bar. ‘Call up to my room. Get my partner down here pronto.’
The barman looked confused; it probably didn’t help that Tarquin’s tinny voice could still be heard from the phone’s receiver. ‘Ivy? What’s going on? Ivy! Are you there? Do you remember what happened the last time when you couldn’t be arsed to listen to me? The Ipsissimus wants…’ I hung up and pushed the phone across to the barman with a meaningful glance before running out after Blackbeard. I still didn’t know what I was going to do but I couldn’t just let him walk away.
It was even colder outside than I expected. Out here on the barren moors there was little shelter. I cast around, searching desperately for my quarry. He couldn’t just disappear into the night; I wasn’t going to let him.
There was a crunch of heavy footsteps on gravel then Blackbeard’s voice came at me from the darkness. I still couldn’t see him – for such a large man, he was good at concealing himself. At least he was still here. Right now I’d take every small mercy I could grasp hold of.
‘I thought you’d follow me,’ he said. ‘I don’t know who you are or how you know about me – but I do know that you can’t stop me.’
I swallowed. My mouth was bone dry. I’d only just recovered from my last near-death experience; I had zero desire to throw myself into that kind of scenario again. Desperate to stall him until Winter showed up, I found my voice. ‘You’re killing witches,’ I said. ‘An entire coven. From Dorset. Why?’
His voice drifted through the darkness. ‘The more pertinent question is how do you know that?’
‘Seriously? That’s the most important question? Not who are you, or what’s your motive, or what the hell do you think you can gain? Or are you just a deluded psychopath? You think the biggest question is how I know about you? Pah!’ I scoffed. ‘There’s no limit to what I know.’ I racked my brains. There had to be something I could do here, some information I could use against him. ‘I know that the coven murder wasn’t as smooth as you’d have liked,’ I said. ‘That one of them came round at the last minute and fought you. That made you angry.’
There was silence. Damn it, had he already somehow made his escape? There was nothing around here apart from a quiet country road and mud-filled moors. He could head off in virtually any direction and I wouldn’t have a clue where he’d gone, at least until Winter got here and performed a tracking spell. Right now, there was nothing happening which was worth the risk of me being overpowered by necromantic magic.
‘Hello?’ I called out, my voice carrying across the silent car park. ‘Are you still there? Or have I scared you off?’ My eyes darted from side to side. Damn, it was dark out here. ‘Mr Serial Killer?’
I felt the hot breath against the back of neck and the cold steel tip nick my skin. ‘It’d take a lot more than a blonde woman with dodgy dress sense to scare me,’ Blackbeard murmured.