Page 11 of Sparkle Witch
Oh. Well, I suppose I was motivated. I directed the other witches to start going door to door around the Order itself. In the unlikely event that the Angel had merely been misplaced or mistakenly appropriated, someone might know where it was.
It wasn’t long before I was the only one left. Abigail departed with the very last group, leaving me all on my lonesome ownsome. I considered everything and realised that there was virtually nothing left to do. Almost every avenue was already being investigated by someone else. Bonus. I could get used to this teamwork thing.
Catching sight of one of the newer Order ghosts floating up ahead, I called out. ‘Hey!’
She turned towards me and frowned; the disastrous effects of a herblore spell gone wrong revealed how she’d died. Meandering in my direction, she raised her only remaining hand as if to ward me off. ‘I’m not next,’ she said, with a definite lisp. ‘There are 32,674 spirits in front of me in the queue.’
Not for the first time I was depressed by the thought of how long it would to take to get all these ghosts to pass over to the next plane. Last month I’d even tried to institute a proforma email to help move things along a bit.
Dear …
You are being haunted by a ghost. He/she has been cursed by you/your ancestors. In a loud, clear voice state the name of said ghost [insert name here] and the words, ‘You are now released from the curse by the power invested in me.’
Kind regards
Unfortunately it was proving more complicated than I’d anticipated. Some emails went to spam folders or to defunct addresses and the rest were disregarded or disbelieved. It was, like most of my life, a work in progress. At the moment, I was debating using Order funds to buy some television airtime. I could simply tell the viewing public to take a couple of hours to run through the names of everyone they’d ever met, along with everyone their ancestors had ever met, and release any potential trapped ghosts. Like I said, work in progress.
Of course, if I died in the witchy apocalypse none of that would ever happen. I grinned to myself. Those spirits needed me. That meant they had to help me locate the dratted Angel.
‘Don’t worry,’ I said to the spirit. ‘I wouldn’t dream of disrupting Grenville’s orderly queue. I understand how important it is that the more ancient ghosts are released from their curses first. I do want to speak to all the Order spirits together though. Can you get them all to meet me?’
She looked at me suspiciously as if I could only be up to no good. Honestly, most of these dead dudes seriously needed an injection of their own holiday joy. Some kind of ghostly version of eggnog, perhaps. ‘Meet you where?’ she enquired.
‘The cafeteria,’ I said cheerfully. I might as well kill two birds with one stone. Without waiting for the grumpy ghost to either agree or disagree, I ambled off. The biscuits had been good but now I needed something more substantial.
Chapter Seven
I’d barely strolled through the main cafeteria doors when one of the chefs came striding towards me. He wasn’t a witch but he had several family members who were. Usually he was very proud of his position at the Order but today his face was so red and rage-filled that I almost turned on my heel and left again. Almost. I was still hungry.
‘Ivy Wilde!’ he roared. ‘I want to see the Ipsissimus and I want to see him now!’ He slammed his foot down on the floor and glared at me, as if I could conjure up Winter out of thin air. Now, there was a thought. Raphael Winter, naked and on a platter and there for my taking whenever I decided I wanted him…
‘I cannot work under these conditions!’
I snapped out of my sudden vivid daydream and fixed my attention back on the chef. ‘Ipsissimus Winter is busy,’ I said. ‘But I can pass along your message.’
‘You could help me yourself!’ he bellowed.
Mmm. ‘No, I’m afraid not. I’d only mess things up if I got involved.’
‘You don’t even know what the problem is.’
‘If you want to keep it to yourself for now, that’s absolutely fine. I understand that some information must be kept privileged from non-Order ears like mine.’
The chef’s eyes flashed. ‘There’s a magical delegation visiting from Tokyo tomorrow. I ordered in an entire salmon for them, the very best that our country has to offer and the sort of fish that sushi lovers would adore.’
Yum. ‘Did you burn it?’ I asked, hazarding a guess as to the problem.
‘Don’t be an imbecile! I can hardly burn something I’m going to serve raw.’
He was a man after my own heart. Why go to the trouble of cooking something when you could simply carve it up and hand it over?
Unfortunately, the chef wasn’t finished. ‘It’s been stolen!’ His hands shook with frustration.
I gazed at him stupidly. ‘Someone nicked a fish?’
‘Not just a bloody fish. A prime salmon from Scotland!’ He put his hands on hips. ‘Now what are you going to do about it?’
A lost salmon was hardly high on my list of priorities. Not right now. ‘If I see it,’ I said carefully, ‘I’ll let you know.’ His mouth opened to reply and I knew I was about to get another earful. I continued quickly before my eardrums were shattered. ‘Now, I have an important meeting here which is about to begin.’
