Contents (29)
- Table of Contents
- Chapter One
- Chapter Two
- Chapter Three
- Chapter Four
- Chapter Five
- Chapter Six
- Chapter Seven
- Chapter Eight
- Chapter Nine
- Chapter Ten
- Chapter Eleven
- Chapter Twelve
- Chapter Thirteen
- Chapter Fourteen
- Chapter Fifteen
- Chapter Sixteen
- Chapter Seventeen
- Chapter Eighteen
- Chapter Nineteen
- Chapter Twenty
- Chapter Twenty-One
- Chapter Twenty-Two
- Chapter Twenty-Three
- Chapter Twenty-Four
- Chapter Twenty-Five
- Epilogue
- About the Author
- Other titles by Helen Harper
‘Yes, Adeptus Exemptus Winter. Three bags full.’
He ignored my sarcasm. ‘You will conduct yourself as befits a member of the Order, notwithstanding what happened in the past. This is a serious profession and I will not have it undermined by smart-aleck comments or disorderly behaviour. I’ve worked hard to get to where I am, and my position will not be compromised because you are tagging along everywhere I go. Some people may think the Order is obsolete but they are very much mistaken. What I do – and what the Order does – is vital to the wellbeing of this country. Magic is not to be trifled with. It’s a solemn and grave endeavour. You will be polite and well-mannered at all times.’ He glanced at my clothes. ‘You will dress appropriately and smartly. If you afford me respect, I will give you the same in return and we can survive the next hundred days relatively unscathed.’
Pompous jackass. I clicked my heels together and saluted.
He opened his mouth to say something else apparently thought better of it. Instead he turned and walked off in the same direction as Tarquin without so much as a friendly goodbye. I shrugged.
Rather than get caught eyeing up his arse again, I stared into the box and registered the items with a sinking heart. This was not going to be fun.
Chapter Five
By the time I got back to my little flat, after checking on Harold and making sure he was fed, watered and happy, I was footsore and very, very grumpy. I dumped Winter’s little box of tricks on my kitchen table, where I resolved never to look at it again, and flounced into the living room. It didn’t help matters that I couldn’t find a plumber willing to come out – unless it was for an exorbitant emergency callout charge – until Monday. I wrapped myself in my duvet, curled up on the sofa and sniffed.
‘This is all a dream,’ I told myself. ‘A terrible nightmare. I’m about to wake up and I’ll laugh at myself.’ I squeezed my eyes shut and pinched my arm. For good measure, Brutus appeared and offered a secondary nip with his sharp teeth. Neither worked. I opened my eyes and gazed at him. ‘Yeah,’ I sighed. ‘I knew it was too much to ask. You can’t blame me for trying though.’
He blinked at me. ‘Ears.’
I reached over and gave him the desired scratch. A deep purr throbbed from his throat. ‘More.’
I kept going.
‘More.’
‘I am thy servant,’ I told him, without a trace of irony.
His tail whipped suddenly from side to side. ‘Stop, bitch.’
I yanked my fingers away in the nick of time. I’d had enough psychological injury already today; I didn’t need physical scratches as well. Brutus hopped off the sofa and stalked away, clearly annoyed that I’d stroked him for a second longer than his desired time.
I leant back and pondered my situation. There had to be a way out; maybe the Order hadn’t considered every avenue yet. I stared at the ceiling thoughtfully then dug out my phone. It rang for several seconds and I was on the verge of giving up when someone finally answered. ‘What?’