Page 48 of Spirit Witch
I relayed this information to Iqbal, who didn’t look exactly thrilled. I suspected that he already knew that but hadn’t got around to fixing it. Or maybe he’d hoped no one would notice.
‘Thanks,’ he muttered. ‘I appreciate the help.’
‘Why don’t you take us to the plaque, Iqqy?’ I suggested, before he gave himself away completely.
‘Sure, yes.’ He bobbed his head vigorously. ‘I did wonder about it, you know. There’s something about the wording that always makes me feel uncomfortable and now I know why.’
‘What does it say?’ Winter asked.
It was Wiggins himself who answered. ‘“It was on this spot in 1989 that Professor Horace Wiggins changed the course of biological magic study for decades. May his zest for science and his soul endure here for eternity, affecting all these walls and all who study within them.”’
I winced. That was a pretty definitive curse, even if it was nicely worded.
‘Of course,’ Wiggins continued, ‘it wasn’t on that spot at all. I was trying to get the Dean’s secretary into the stationery cupboard when the real breakthrough actually came to me. You see, she had these massive—’
‘Professor,’ I said in an overly loud voice, ‘if you want my help, then you should probably stop talking now.’
He paused. ‘Uh, okay. Yes. Good idea.’
Brutus sighed. I shrugged at him. ‘You could have stayed at home, you know. There are plenty of corners to sulk in there. You don’t have to do it here.’
He raised a paw as if examining it, then extended his claws one by one.
‘Come on, Iqbal!’ Winter said cheerfully, with as much haste as he could muster. ‘Let’s go!’
And with that, we all barrelled out of the room.
Chapter Fourteen
One minor act of vandalism and a short journey later, we arrived at the Order Headquarters. Winter couldn’t wipe the guilty expression off his face, as if he were about to be carted away to complete ten years’ hard labour for prising an old plaque from a wall. He’d never make much of a criminal, I thought fondly.
‘You know,’ I said, as we got out of the taxi, ‘maybe this ghost business isn’t so bad after all. I’m starting to feel like I’m getting the hang of it. That’s two spirits I’ve already helped cross over. I realise there are problems with Clare and her coven but that’s different. All I need is to set up an office where the ghosts can come to me, and hire an assistant to sort out the curses, and I reckon I could be on to a winner. I’d miss taxi driving but I’d be prepared to give it up to be altruistic and help out all those lost souls.’ I paused. ‘And work for only twenty minutes or so a day.’
‘Who would pay you?’ Winter asked.
Hmm. Good question. I pocketed the keys and we walked towards the main building in search of the Ipsissimus. Brutus fell in beside us, although he seemed rather distracted by the new environment and kept stopping to sniff suspiciously at scary objects. He appeared convinced that the empty packet of crisps tumbling in the breeze was out to get him.
‘I could get the families to pay me,’ I said finally. ‘You know, the descendants of the ghosts or whoever it is who cursed their souls in the first place. I’m doing them a favour – they should pay for the privilege of no longer being haunted.’
‘Except,’ Winter said, bending over to grab the crisp packet and drop it in a nearby bin, ‘they don’tknowthey’re being haunted. So why would they be grateful?’
I rubbed my chin. ‘Maybe before the curses are cleared, we get the spirits to tell us where all the ancient family heirlooms are buried.’
‘Because every family must have buried heirlooms?’
Brutus leapt onto the top of the bin and peered inside before pawing for the crisp packet. He obviously didn’t get out enough.
‘Of course,’ I said. ‘For a start, in the corner of my parents’ garden there’s the head of a Barbie doll that I buried when I was a kid. Goodness only knows what else is there.’
‘The head of Barbie doll? Treasure indeed.’ Winter smiled.
‘For all you know,’ I said, ‘it could be a collector’s item.’
A small group of red-robed witches appeared from round the corner. When they caught sight of us, one of them immediately peeled away and raised a hand in greeting. ‘Adeptus Exemptus Winter!’
Winter let out a hiss of irritation but he stopped and waited for the witch to catch up to us. ‘Magister Templi Kirk,’ he said formally.
I stood to one side, watching with interest as Kirk, a Third Level witch and therefore higher in the Order hierarchy than Winter, all but bowed to him.
