‘I think someone would have noticed by now if the sceptre had been hidden in a loo stall. Have you seen how much coffee this lot drink?’ I waved a hand at the studious-looking witches seated near us.
Winter turned. His eyes drifted down to my legs and I realised that the red robe had sneaked its way upward, revealing my lace-edged pyjamas underneath. I sprang to my feet before remembering, through a spasm of pain, that my body still ached all over from yesterday. I grimaced.
‘Are you wearing your pyjamas? Did you not bother getting dressed this morning?’
I folded my arms. ‘Does it matter?’
Winter heaved a sigh as if the woes of the world lay across his broad shoulders. ‘I suppose not.’
He walked away from me, heading towards the small room where the Cypher Manuscripts were kept. He really was leaving no stone unturned. ‘Stay there,’ he snapped.
Suited me. I didn’t want to taint the ancient magical archives with my presence anyway. I closed my eyes. A moment or two later, Winter reappeared. ‘The sceptre’s not there.’
‘Are you sure?’ I asked. ‘Maybe you should double check.’
I opened an eye and peeked at him. He was staring at me with undisguised exasperation. ‘Come on. There’s still the basement to go through.’
Whoopdeedo. I heaved myself up and trailed after him, wishing I were just about anywhere else in the world. At least when I was driving the taxi I got to sit around for most of the day instead of just the odd minute or two.
We made our way downstairs, pausing at an unassuming door on the ground floor. Winter rattled the doorknob. When it appeared to be stuck, he shoved his shoulder against the door to force it open. I glanced down and realised I was standing on a crack in the marble floor. I jumped to the side and let out a hiss. Damn it.
The door finally banged open and I peered around Winter into the darkness beyond. ‘Maybe we should take a break first,’ I suggested. ‘Tea and tiffin.’ Suddenly I felt a prickle across the back of my neck and half-turned. Standing on the other side of the room was Tarquin, his dark eyes fixed on me. ‘Forget I said that,’ I muttered. ‘Bring on the basement!’
‘What on earth are you wittering about?’ Winter asked.
‘Nothing.’ I nudged him. ‘Come on. Let’s investigate!’
‘Sometimes, Ms Wilde, I wonder whether you are entirely there. You don’t seem able to concentrate on any one thing for more than a minute.’
‘It’s because my mind is filled with so many great and important matters,’ I informed him airily.
Winter snorted. ‘Like tea and tiffin?’
Ah. So he had heard me. ‘Let’s just get this over and done with.’
The corner of his mouth crooked up. ‘Your wish is my command.’
If only.
The staircase leading down was narrow, as you’d expect from somewhere heading into a dingy dungeon type of place. I half expected to be attacked by vampire bats or giant cobwebs. The overhead light buzzed annoyingly and the steps were so uneven that I almost tripped and collided with Winter’s back. There wasn’t a soul, animal or human, in sight.
After what seemed like an age, we reached the foot of the staircase. The space in front of us was cavernous, filled with endless stone archways. There were also a lot of old boxes and filing cabinets. From where I was standing, I counted dozens of the darn things. We’d be here forever.
‘You’re an Adeptus Exemptus,’ I said.
‘Yes.’
‘So you must have a few runes up your sleeve for tracking objects. Can’t you do something so we can be out of here by next century?’ I was sure I’d heard of such spells; if only I’d bothered to seek them out. But then, why go to such trouble when Adeptus Exemptus Winter could do it for me?
‘If such spells existed and were reliable,’ Winter answered, ‘don’t you think I would have already tried them to find the sceptre?’
I shrugged. ‘Maybe they only have limited reach. Surely you know something that will be successful in an enclosed space like this.’
‘There are runes which could work. But only around thirty per cent of the time.’ His tone was brisk and brooked no nonsense but I wasn’t ready to give in yet. Where magic was involved, there is always an easier way.
‘Aw, Winter baby,’ I coaxed. ‘It’s worth a shot. Even if only to flex your magical muscles and show me what you’re really made of.’
‘Winter … baby?’
I couldn’t tell whether he was annoyed or amused. ‘Well, you keep telling me to stop calling you Adeptus Exemptus.’
He stepped towards me until he was barely inches away. ‘And,’ he said in a low voice, ‘if you call me baby, what should I call you?’
I considered. ‘Boss would work.’
‘Not happening.’ He leant closer. ‘How about honey?’
I met his eyes. I felt surprisingly hot and bothered. ‘Are you flirting with me?’
‘Trust me, Ivy. When I flirt with you, you’ll know all about it.’
I couldn’t help wondering whether that was a threat or a promise. I licked my lips. ‘Those runes…’
He moved back, the mention of work making him return immediately to his usual business-like self. ‘I suppose they’re worth a try.’ He glanced at me sideways. ‘Watch carefully. You might learn something.’
I fixed my gaze on his hands. He raised them, using not one but both to sketch out the rune. This was complex stuff indeed. No wonder he was held in such high regard. Not that I was going to let him know I was impressed. ‘Nothing’s happened,’ I remarked.
Winter rolled his eyes. ‘The spell only works for me.’ He paused. ‘But then you knew that, didn’t you?’
I grinned.
He walked forward, swinging his head from side to side as he passed each stack of boxes. I had a fairly good idea how this would go down. Nothing would register and we’d still have to search the place from top to bottom. All the same, I ambled along behind him, taking the opportunity for some momentary peace and quiet to relax.
About halfway along, Winter halted, his back ramrod straight. It was so unexpected and I was so lost in the swirl of my own chaotic thoughts that I didn’t notice until I was almost past him. ‘What is it?’
He swivelled round to his left where a shabby pile of card boxes lay, stacked in an untidy heap. It was a wonder they’d not toppled over.
‘No way,’ I breathed. ‘Was I actually right?’ I bellowed a laugh. ‘Is the sceptre really here?’ I started bopping around. ‘The non-Order witch saves the Order’s hide. Who’s the boss now? Eh? Eh?’
‘Shut up.’
I supposed I wasn’t acting like a particularly gracious winner but it still felt good. I stopped talking but I was still bouncing.
Winter strode over to the boxes and started pulling them off the pile, one after the other. After the first four or five, he turned and glared at me. ‘I suppose it would be too much to ask for a little help?’
‘As you’ve already said, the spell doesn’t work for me. I have no way of knowing which box the sceptre is hiding in. So it’s probably better if you do the heavy lifting.’
Even from several feet away, I could see Winter grit his teeth. ‘Except,’ he muttered, ‘I don’t think it’s in any of the boxes.’
I eyed the pile. ‘It’s underneath?’ No wonder the stack resembled the Leaning Tower of Pisa. Although you had to wonder at the First Level witches who would go to such lengths for a prank. Surely they’d have made their point if they’d simply left the stupid thing on the top?
‘Just get over here.’
I took my time shuffling over. Winter was picking up and discarding boxes so quickly, he already had a sheen of sweat across his brow. I reached out and placed my hand on his arm. ‘Allow me,’ I said kindly. I drew the same rune I’d used yesterday in the gym that made all the boxes, regardless of their size or weight, feel as light as air. Winter reached for another one and almost fell backwards at its unexpected lightness.
‘What did you do?’ he asked.