Page 81 of Slouch Witch
Winter neither denied nor acknowledged my theory. I ploughed on. ‘Tarquin gave him an alibi when we visited by saying that he’d been with Practicus Lee. But Tarquin probably just saw it on his calendar. He wouldn’t have been at the meeting with them. Price could have cancelled it without anyone knowing. And with his knowledge of the witches in the Order, Price would also have been aware of Marsh’s shortcomings. He was probably on the disciplinary board after Marsh’s other misdemeanours. Price knew that Oscar Marsh would make the perfect scapegoat.’
‘There’s no proof,’ Winter said. ‘If Price took Volume 9, he doesn’t have it now. We do. And if he killed Diall, there won’t necessarily be a trail of blood proving it.’
I held up my hand. ‘But,’ I said softly, ‘if he has Oscar Marsh’s personnel file we’re halfway there. We just need to find it.’ I waited for a beat. ‘Or hang around and wait until Price uses his new magic skills to take over the world and become our ruler.’
Winter smiled. ‘Let’s not do that, then.’
‘Good idea.’ I straightened. ‘And you don’t need to shut me out or try and protect me, Rafe. I can look after myself. I reckon I’m more of a help to you than a hindrance.’
His smile dropped and he regarded me seriously. ‘You’re right – on both counts.’ He leant towards me until I could feel his breath on my skin. ‘Price’s name is on the list. And I didn’t take him seriously as a suspect until you mentioned him the first time around.’
I grinned smugly into his blue eyes. ‘See?’ I said. ‘Slip-on shoes.’
Chapter Twenty-Three
We abandoned the fruitless search of the filing cabinets and headed for Price’s office. While it was unlikely that there would be anything there, given its public nature and how often Price was out of the office, it seemed prudent to run a close eye over everything he had squirrelled away.
Although I’d been in here once before, my focus on that occasion was Tarquin and the poor woman he was currently stringing along. This time I paid more attention to my surroundings. There wasn’t a whole lot to look at: Price wasn’t exactly a clutterbug. His desk had an empty tray, a single sharp-nibbed pencil and a notepad lying on the top. There wasn’t even a photo of any loved ones. Every drawer was locked.
I picked up the notepad and grinned. ‘I’ve always wanted to do this.’ I grabbed the pencil and shaded over the first white page. ‘Wait for it,’ I said. ‘Wait for it…’ I peered at the faint letters that had revealed themselves. ‘Ah ha!’
Winter leant across me to take a look, affording me another whiff of the culver’s root he had secreted about his person. ‘You know, you can lose the magic herbs now.’
‘I’ll keep them for a while. I like knowing you’re here of your own volition,’ he said in my ear.
A small thrill went through me. What was wrong with me these days? The Order was clearly rubbing off in ways that were most uncharacteristic. I quickly pointed at the paper. ‘He’s written a note to himself. Look.’
Winter looked more closely. ‘Milk. Bread. Washing-up liquid. Hardly the magic bullet we’re looking for.’
‘Yeah, but it worked! Without using any magic at all, I can now read exactly what’s going on in his life. It’s like I’m Nancy Drew.’
‘Go you,’ he murmured. He moved away and crouched down by the desk. ‘Warded. If can I get the right herbs to open this…’
I sketched out my old reliable spell for him and all three drawers popped open. ‘There you go.’ I curtsied. ‘You’re welcome.’
Winter turned and stared at me. ‘You just opened that.’
Well, duh. ‘Yeah.’
‘But it’s warded.’
Puzzled, I put my hands on my hips. ‘Not very strongly.’
‘Show me that rune.’
His tone brooked no argument. I shrugged; it was no skin off my nose. I re-sketched the rune, this time aiming for the final locked drawer on the other side of the desk. It burst open, banging into Winter’s leg. He didn’t move, however; he just watched my hands. ‘That’s not a known rune.’
‘You know all the runes?’
‘I have an almost eidetic memory, Ivy. I’ve trained myself to remember. That is not a rune I’ve ever seen before.’
This line of questioning was becoming uncomfortable. ‘So? I developed it on my own.’
He took a step towards me. ‘‘Do you have any idea how unusual that is?’
I sighed. ‘Only because the Order sticks to tradition and traditional runes.’
‘No. They stick to traditional runes because it’s incredibly difficult to create new ones. There’s an entire research and development department dedicated to the art and even they only manage a new rune once every few months.’ Something indefinable glinted in his eyes. ‘I think I’m beginning to understand you properly now.’
