Page 52 of Spirit Witch
Brutus, slightly braver now that none of the stuffed creatures had twitched, ventured out towards the horned cat, sniffing warily. He raised a paw and struck it sharply on the head then backed away again, as if more disturbed by the stuffed cat’s lack of response than that it looked like Dr Frankenstein’s favourite pet. Why anyone ever thought that taxidermy was a good thing was beyond me. I loved Brutus to bits but if he died before me, he was either going in a hole in the ground or…
I shot to my feet. ‘Pets!’
The others stared at me in alarm. Winter’s eyes flicked from side to side. ‘Who are you talking to this time, Ivy?’
‘You! I’m talking to you! Look,’ I said, feeling an ecstasy of urgency flood my veins that was most unusual. ‘The police have investigated the crematoria, yes?’
‘All the ones with a reasonable radius of Dorset and Dartmoor,’ the Ipsissimus answered.
‘All the crematoria?’ I pressed. ‘Or just the human ones?’
Maidmont looked confused but Winter immediately grasped my meaning. ‘Pet crematoria,’ he said. ‘The temperatures to cremate the body of a dog must be the same as those required to burn a human’s.’
I nodded. ‘And while I’m sure they have strict rules, they’re probably not as rigorously inspected as human crematoria.’
‘There won’t be that many of them,’ the Ipsissimus said. ‘It wouldn’t take long to pinpoint any which Blackbeard might have used.’
‘How would he sneak a human corpse into a pet funeral service?’
I shook my head. ‘Maybe he works in one. Maybe he lives next to one.’ I shrugged. ‘I don’t know. But it has to be worth checking out.’
Maidmont got to his feet. ‘Give me fifteen minutes,’ he promised. ‘I’ll find out if there are any around that area.’
‘They probably won’t be in Weymouth or on Dartmoor,’ Winter said. ‘He’ll be using different locations to avoid detection.’
‘But,’ I added, ‘he won’t want to travel too far for the same reason.’
Maidmont frowned. ‘You do know I’m a librarian? Research like this is my bread and butter. I know what to look for.’
I grinned. ‘Sorry. We trust you, Phil!’ He raised his eyes to the heavens and left.
The Ipsissimus knitted his fingers under his chin and watched me. ‘Are you sure, Ms Wilde, that you wouldn’t like to return to the Order? I really do think you might fit in better than you realise.’
‘She’s sure,’ Winter snapped. Then he looked apologetic. ‘I’m not trying to speak for you,’ he muttered to me.
I gave him a quick, reassuring smile. ‘I know.’
‘Pfffft!’
I jumped as Ipsissimus Grenville’s head appeared next to the stuffed bear’s. Brutus hissed and darted away again. ‘Heshouldspeak for you,’ the ghost said. ‘He’s a man. He has a far better understanding of Order matters than you ever could.’
I gritted my teeth. ‘Yes, he does, but only because he used to be in the Order. Not because he happens to be a man.’
Grenville frowned. ‘What do you meanused to bein the Order? Has he been expelled? Did you conspire to have this good man thrown out?’
I didn’t deign to answer that question. I’d already had words once with Grenville about his rudeness and I wasn’t going to repeat myself. Frankly, at this point in time he needed me a great deal more than I needed him.
Ipsissimus Collings looked fascinated. ‘Is that Ipsissimus Grenville?’ He clapped his hands. ‘How wonderful! I’ve been reading his old journals. They’re quite fascinating.’
Grenville harrumphed loudly and floated down from the bear to the Ipsissimus’s face. ‘You’ve been reading my journals? Those are private, sir! In my day a gentleman would never stoop to such an act.’
‘I’ve just reached the part where you went back and perused the diaries of one of your predecessors,’ Ipsissimus Collings burbled happily. ‘And you realised that there was a lot you could learn from the past. Now we can communicate with each other through Ms Wilde, we can learn from you. This is truly a fortuitous opportunity.’
I snorted at Grenville’s expression. His face contorted further and he whipped round. ‘Shut up, woman!’ he thundered. ‘This is all your fault,! Do you have any idea what a mess you’ve created? Just as things finally seemed to be looking up, I’m getting spirits from all over the damn country complaining to me because of what you’ve done!’ His voice was still rising. Whether that was a special gift granted to all ghosts, or whether he’d managed to achieve similar decibels when he was alive, I didn’t know but it was an impressive sound.
I leaned back further in my chair and lifted my legs, propping my feet on the table. Both Ipsissimus Collings and Winter frowned but they were too intrigued by what Grenville might be saying to admonish me. I made a show of inspecting my fingernails; out of the corner of my eye, I could see that steam was almost coming out of Grenville’s ears.
‘Ivy,’ Winter said, ‘does Ipsissimus Grenville have any insights to offer about Blackbeard? Could he perhaps send some ghosts to search for him? They could prove to be our salvation.’
