Page 36 of Slouch Witch
‘It’s not about laziness.’ Well, actually it was. ‘It’s about what makes sense. Even a Third Level witch would need to sleep for several days after performing the kind of spells you’re talking about. Hence, the sceptre must still be in building.’
Winter gritted his teeth. ‘It cannot still be in the building. That’s impossible.’
‘It’s a big place,’ I argued. ‘It could have been hidden away anywhere.’
‘To what end?’
I was getting irritated. I didn’t have all the answers. ‘How the hell should I know?’
The Ipsissimus cleared his throat. ‘Enough.’ Winter and I fell silent. ‘I can see that your partnership is going to prove … interesting.’ Winter let out a snort of derision. ‘Ms Wilde does make a good point. I suggest that you return to the library and scour it for any sign of the sceptre. It’s possible that what we are looking at is nothing more than a First Level prank.’
Arse. ‘The librarians know the area best,’ I suggested. ‘They should look for it.’
‘This was your idea, Ms Wilde. Take ownership.’
I sniffed. ‘I’m not sure that’s entirely necessary…’
‘Deal with it.’
So much for Mr Nice Ipsissimus. Winter had stopped scratching and his skin had returned to its natural tanned colour. Next time I should really keep my bright ideas to myself.
Chapter Ten
‘This is stupid,’ I grumbled to Winter as I came out of the last study carrel on the third floor. ‘I don’t know where all the library hidey-holes are.’
‘Quit complaining.’
‘I’ve got sore feet.’ I pulled up a chair and sank into it while he examined a bookshelf, apparently on the off-chance that the metre-long sceptre was hiding behind a volume of ancient witch poetry.
‘You need to check the bathrooms,’ he told me.
‘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!’
