A Witch Alone (The Winter Witch Trilogy #3) (11 page)

‘Let me see…’

He ran to the cellar steps, but fell back as he saw the lake of gore.

‘Oh Christ! Oh help …’ He put a hand to his mouth as if pressing back vomit and then managed, ‘But what – what’s happened? Anna, what’s happened?’

His face was white, with spots of red high on each cheekbone, and his eyes were wide and wild.

‘He’s dead,’ I choked out. For a second everything seemed to swim and I gritted my teeth, trying to keep it together.

‘He’s dead?’ Jonathan seemed unable to process it. ‘But – how?’

‘His throat’s been cut.’ I felt bile rise in my own throat and my ears suddenly sang. I hardly heard Jonathan’s questions as I shook my head, trying to swallow down my own nausea. ‘Call the police,’ was all I could manage.

‘We can’t,’ Jonathan said angrily. ‘He’s in the forbidden part of the shop. We can’t have outwith police tramping around down there.’

‘Damn the outwith!’ I sobbed. ‘What does it matter?’

‘It still matters!’ Jonathan shouted back. His face was contorted with agony and he sank down slowly against a bookshelf, his hands over his face. ‘Oh God, Caradoc! Oh my darling …’

‘What can we do then?’

‘We’ll have to move him. Up here.’

‘No!’

‘You don’t understand.’ He spoke very slowly, his teeth clenched. ‘It would be more than my life’s worth, and yours, to have outwith cops clumping around down there.’

‘But it won’t make any sense up here. The crime scene – there’ll be no blood. And how could anyone have done it up here without being seen?’ I gestured to the street.

‘We’ll have to persuade the police.’ His face was grim. ‘By one means or another. Now are you going to help me, or not?’

Jonathan was sick as we wrestled Caradoc’s body up to the ground floor and sick again as I tried to lay his body as close to how I’d found him as possible. It was as I was putting his hand across his breast, just as it had been downstairs, that I noticed the tiny scrap of paper between his clenched fingers.

I pulled it out and smoothed it. It was a corner, no more, printed in heavy black-lead type, of the sort used in Victorian novels. Beneath the bloodstains, it read:

A Rydelle

A childe shalle be born on the feaft of Kings

A childe of the Rook tho

And t

‘What is it?’ Jonathan asked, wiping his eyes with his sleeve.

‘I think,’ I swallowed against the sharpness of the grief in my throat, ‘I think it’s what they came for. A riddle. And it’s gone.’

‘A riddle?’ Jonathan raised his eyes to the ceiling and his face twisted into an expression of such heartbreak that I looked away. ‘Oh Caradoc, you gave your life for a bloody riddle.’

And then he began to sob – huge, heavy, tearing sobs. I tried to comfort him, but he put out a hand.

‘Go. Just go, Anna.’

‘But – the police …’

‘Just go.’ His voice was rough and torn. ‘You can’t help. It’s better not to complicate things any more. I can just say I found him.’ He pulled out the cash drawer of the till and threw the contents on the floor, the coins skittering towards the exit. ‘There. It was a burglary. Now, I’m calling nine-nine-nine, so go.’

‘But – but my clothes. They’re all covered in blood.’

‘You’re a damn witch,’ Jonathan cried. ‘You sort it out.’

He sank to his knees on the shop floor, while I crept away.

The bloodstains were gone by the time I reached the main road.

The tears on my face took longer to dry.

I trudged aimlessly, trying to walk away the dread and agony. Leicester Square, Soho, Oxford Street, Regents Street, Piccadilly, Bond Street – I zigzagged across London, the pavements hard beneath my feet, the outwith parting before me like gusting leaves. My feet were throbbing, but the feeling somehow kept the memory of Caradoc at bay, and I kept putting one foot in front of another, until I ended up in Green Park.

And there – bizarrely, inexplicably – Emmaline was standing on the path in front of me, her face full of fury and shock. She ran towards me, gripping my arms with painful intensity, and then threw her arms around me.

‘Thank God! What happened?’

‘What do you mean?’ I asked dully.

‘Abe heard you – I don’t know how. He heard you screaming and he rang me at school. And that was when I realized, you hadn’t come in all day. So I went to your house and you were gone – what the hell are you doing here?’

‘I came …’ I sank to the grassy verge and drew my knees up to my chin. ‘I came to see Caradoc.’

‘And? Anna, what’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.’

It was too close to the truth. I shut my eyes, pressing my palms to my face. The words swelled and choked inside me, lodging in my throat like stones. ‘Caradoc’s dead,’ I managed.

‘
Dead?’

‘I asked him to trace a text, a riddle, that my mother stole from the Ealdwitan. And he found it and called me to tell me. But he was killed before I could get to him.’

‘Oh my God.’ The colour had drained from Em’s face and she sank to the grass beside me. ‘This is serious, isn’t it?’

‘Caradoc should never have been involved!’ I cried. ‘It’s all my fault – I
asked
him to look for that riddle. I should have known!’

‘How on earth could you have known? This is
not
your fault.’

‘So people keep saying – not my fault … not my fault … None of it’s ever my fault – Bill’s death, Bran’s death, now Caradoc’s death. I didn’t kill them – but they died because of me, Em. Not my fault? Really? What else do you want?’

‘They died because of something far bigger than you. And the fact that you’re caught up in it too doesn’t make you responsible. You’re in this trap just as much as the rest of us. It could have been you.’

‘Who’s next? Who’s going to be next?’

Em only shook her head, while hideous pictures flashed through my head: Emmaline, Abe, Seth, Dad … I shut my eyes, unable to bear it, but the images only burned brighter in the darkness.

‘It’s Thaddeus Corax,’ I said at last. ‘I know it is. He was responsible for Bill’s death. He
must
know whatever my mother was trying to hide. He knows – and he doesn’t want me to find out.’

‘It could be,’ Em admitted, though there was something reluctant about her expression. ‘But what are you going to do?’

‘I’m going to confront him.’

‘You’re crazy.’

‘No, it’s the only way. If I keep digging around in the dark, more people are going to get hurt. This way—’

‘This way the person who’ll get hurt is
you
!’

I just nodded.

‘No,’ Em said. She grabbed my arm. ‘No! Don’t be stupid, this is
not
the way.’

‘It’s the only way.’ Suddenly I was calm. ‘I’ll visit him at his office. I’ll make an appointment. If it’s all out in the open, what can he really do?’

‘You’ve just finished telling me that you think this guy had Caradoc Truelove
killed
. And you’re asking me, what can he
do
?’

‘He’s not going to have me killed. He wants something – something I’ve got. I’m just about the only person he
can’t
get rid of.’

‘You’re crazy.’ She pushed her glasses impatiently back up her nose and began digging for her mobile. ‘I’m calling Abe.’

‘Call who you want. I’m calling Marcus.’

‘Who the hell’s Marcus?’

‘Marcus is my cousin. He’s Thaddeus’ son.’

I could hear Emmaline frantically jabbing buttons on her mobile as I picked up mine and fished Marcus’ thick, expensive handkerchief out of my pocket. I felt suddenly completely calm, completely sure.

He answered on the first ring.

‘Hello?’

‘Hello, Marcus? It’s Anna – Anna Winterson.’

‘Hello, Anna. How lovely to hear from you.’

‘I’m not calling for a chat, I’m afraid. I need a favour. I’m sorry.’

‘Don’t be. What’s the favour? I can’t promise I can grant it, but if I can help…’

‘I want to see your father.’

‘Oh.’ There was a silence at the other end of the line.

‘Marcus?’

‘I’m sorry, I don’t think that will be possible.’

I bit my lip.

‘I don’t want to be pushy – but it’s really important. I could come and wait – I don’t care how long it takes.’

‘His appointment diary gets booked up weeks in advance.’

‘Couldn’t he fit me in between meetings? Or over dinner? I’m sorry, Marcus, but this is urgent. If I have to I’ll just turn up and sit outside his office until he comes out. I’d rather not make a scene about it, but if I have to I will.’

‘It’s that important?’ Marcus asked.

‘Yes.’

There was another silence, as if Marcus was wrestling with something, making up his mind. Then he said. ‘Hold on. I’ll speak to his secretary and see what can be done.’

There was another silence, punctuated by a door shutting and the sound of muffled voices. Then Marcus came back on the line.

‘You’re in luck, he’s just had a cancellation. He was supposed to be meeting your grandmother actually, but she had an emergency call and had to hurry off. Some old friend’s had an accident, I believe?’

Caradoc – oh Caradoc! I shut my eyes at the thought of my grandmother, heading towards the hideous waiting news.

‘Yes,’ I said. I didn’t try to disguise the bleakness that had crept into my voice. ‘It’s part of the reason I need to see your father.’

‘Your grandmother’s meeting with him was at four. Can you make it for then?’

‘Yes, I’ll be there. Goodbye, Marcus.’

‘Goodbye, Anna.’

And he was gone.

As I put the phone away I heard Emmaline’s panicked voice and imagined Abe’s sarcastic tones on the other end of the line.

‘Yes, completely nuts … That’s what I’m telling you … Well of course I did, but failing that, what can I do? You tell me …’ There was a long silence and then Emmaline nodded. ‘OK, I’ll try … OK … Bye.’

She looked up at me, then shook her head.

‘He’s coming. He says don’t get killed before he gets here.’

‘L
ovely to see you again, Anna.’ Marcus kissed me carefully on both cheeks and then looked past me at Emmaline and Abe, both standing in attitudes of furious tension by the reception desk. ‘Won’t you introduce me to your friends?’

‘Marcus, this is Emmaline Peller. Emmaline – my cousin Marcus. And this is Abe Goldsmith.’

‘Pleased to meet you.’ Marcus shook hands with Emmaline and then put out a hand towards Abe. Abe only stared at it, as if he’d never heard of such a bizarre custom as ‘shaking hands’. There was a brief silence and then, after a moment, Marcus gave a shrug and dropped his. I thought he’d be offended, but when he looked at me there was a small smile at the corner of his mouth.

‘Well, quite the happy party. Are you all seeing my father?’

‘No,’ I said, at the exact same time as Abe said, ‘Yes.’

We glared at each other.

‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ Abe said. ‘Do you and Thad need some time alone together to catch up on old times? Or were you going to regale him with your girly secrets?’

‘I didn’t ask you to come,’ I snarled.

‘No, my role as a human shield is in a purely voluntary capacity,’ Abe spat back.

‘I’m sorry?’ Marcus looked from me to Abe with a puzzled expression and suddenly I was too tired to fight it out any longer.

‘Come if you want,’ I said. ‘I really don’t care. Just leave the talking to me, OK?’

‘OK,’ Abe said meekly.

We set off down the long velvet-carpeted corridor and behind me I could see Emmaline gazing around with a mixture of horrified wonder, taking in the flickering witchlights, the huge domed chambers that led off to the left and right, and the pulse and flow of power beneath our feet, as the rivers chained to this place twisted and writhed to be free.

‘This is too much,’ she whispered. ‘I can hardly breathe – it’s putrid with magic.’

I knew what she meant – the heaviness of power in the air was almost overwhelming. But, as I saw it through her eyes, I had the strangest sensation that the spells holding the place together were buckling, no longer effortless, but perhaps even inadequate. I felt as if I was watching a dyke holding back the sea and had seen a single pebble roll down the face: the warning of a deluge.

‘Here we are,’ Marcus said, and we stopped outside a carved oak door, black with age and deeply polished. He knocked and waited for a moment. No answer.

‘Hmm.’ He looked at his watch. ‘He should be there – he’s expecting you.’ He knocked again.

‘Oh for God’s sake.’ Abe reached for the handle. ‘He’s probably fallen asleep.’

‘There’s no point trying the door,’ Marcus said. ‘My father has enchantments twelve-deep on that—’ but his voice broke off as Abe turned the handle without effort and the door swung wide.

It seemed that Abe had guessed right; Thaddeus Corax was not at his desk, but lying on the sofa in front of the fire. The sofa back was between us and him, but I could see his head, lolling against the arm, and his eyes were closed.

‘Father,’ Marcus said, walking briskly over. ‘Father, your four o’clock …’

He stopped. For a moment I couldn’t understand why, then as I drew level and saw over the back of the sofa, I realized.

The carved bone handle of a sword stuck straight up between his ribs.

Thaddeus Corax was dead, stabbed through the heart.

Before I had time to do more than gasp, there was a terrifying rumbling roar, the red damask wallpaper split like wet tissue and the walls of the room caved in.

I caught sight of Marcus, his arms outstretched towards his father; Abe, his face blank with terror; Emmaline, frozen in a scream – and then the waters crashed in. Above the roar and thunder I heard Marcus bellow an incantation and a huge shield sprang out to encompass his side of the room – but before it could reach me the current snatched me.

Somewhere in the muddy swirling crash of waters, I felt a hand grip my wrist, fierce with strength.

‘Don’t let go,’ Abe’s voice roared in my head, and I didn’t. He pulled me towards him in the buffeting torrential rush, his arms around me, his shield reaching out to cover us both. I knew I should be trying to help him, but the force of the water was crushing us together, crushing the breath out of my body, and then the waters crashed over my head and it was all I could do to keep myself alive.