Raven (A Very British Witch Book 4) Read online

  Tabitha lifted her hand to silence her niece.

  “Tarquin is a sorcerer. As such he is in a very powerful position. Many of his type have, err, switched sides. He needs to arm himself with all the knowledge he can.”

  There was something about her aunt’s words, more specifically, her tone of voice, that sent a shiver right through her. “I had no idea.” She looked down at the floor. “So, what exactly, do these black sorcerers do?”

  “As I said, they use magic for their own gain, or in some extreme circumstances… ” She seemed unwilling to speak on it further, but Scarlett pressed her.

  “Aunt Tabitha, what is it?”

  Tabitha sighed. “As you have no doubt come to discover for yourself, the world is full of spiteful, vindictive people. Things like betrayal, jealousy, and anger corrupt their fragile minds, so they find a dark sorcerer and pay him to torture people.”

  “For revenge you mean?”

  “That’s exactly what I mean.”

  Scarlett took a deep breath and forced the words out. “What kind of torture?”

  “The worst kind,” she said, shaking her head solemnly. “Mental torture. They can make people hear voices, convince them they’re going insane, twist their thoughts, deprive them of sleep and push them to the very edge.” Her tone turned grave. “Or further.”

  Scarlett knew she had to ask the question. “What do you mean by further,” she squeaked.

  Her aunt reached forwards to steady herself on the back of a chair. “Scarlett, you ask far too many questions.”

  “Oh, Aunt Tabitha, are you okay? I’m sorry, it doesn’t matter. You don’t have to tell me.”

  Tabitha met Scarlett’s eyes with a gaze of fierce determination. “No. You have to hear this. I have to tell you.”

  Her breath grew shallow. “Tell me what?”

  “When I was a girl, I had a friend. A very close friend, who… ” She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “Who fell in with the wrong crowd and got on the wrong side of someone who knew a black sorcerer. He paid the sorcerer to carry out all kinds of torture. The sorcerer twisted her thoughts and made her hear voices.” She took a deep breath. “He turned her into a nervous wreck. She wouldn’t leave the house and couldn’t sleep for fear that someone would come and carry out some of the worst atrocities imaginable. She was weak and fragile so she couldn’t cope.

  “She went back to the man she knew and begged him to tell the sorcerer to let her free, which, to his credit, he did. But, it was too late. By the time the spell was lifted, she’d already killed herself. They found her in a pool of blood. She’d slashed her wrists with a carving knife.” Tabitha pulled out the chair and sat down. “I’m sorry,” she murmured, dropping her face into her hands.

  Scarlett placed a hand on Tabitha’s shoulder. “Aunt Tabitha I had no idea. I’m sorry. I didn’t know."

  “No, I’m sorry,” the older woman said. “Sorry you had to hear that tale. If you want to do anything for me though, you’ll keep away from black magic. You won’t let your kind-hearted nature be twisted. You promise me.”

  “Aunt Tabitha, of course I promise.”

  “Well, just as long as that’s clear, let that be the end of it.” Tabitha got to her feet. “Now, let’s have a cup of tea before we finish those damned vegetables.”

  +++

  Sunday Morning

  Slater residence, Bicester, England

  Sunday mornings used to be special. As a child, Scarlett’s mother had marched her off to church, urging her to be quiet as they walked in case there were people trying to sleep. Then after church, they’d have lunch and spend the afternoon watching a film.

  Times had changed of course, but to Scarlett, Sunday mornings would always be a time for reflection, when you could cleanse your mind of all its troubles whilst the sun shone in and the trees in the garden hissed and swayed in the gentle breeze.

  After yesterday’s conversation with her aunt, this particular Sunday morning was greeted with the same enthusiasm that an aging witch greets an old and dear friend.

  She emptied some cornflakes into a bowl, poured over some cold milk and sat at the table to enjoy the sunshine that was coming in through the window.

  In no time at all she was focusing on the empty bowl in front of her. Raven, it seemed, was one of these people who choose to spend Sunday mornings in bed, which, in Scarlett’s view was a bit of a waste, but hey—each to their own.

  As soon as Raven flashed into her mind, the wheels started turning in her head, and it wasn’t long before she was thinking through the murder and Raven’s revelation. It was with great reluctance that she decided to burst her bubble of peace once and for all and fetch her phone from her coat pocket. After finding the log of her last conversation with Tim, she set her thumbs to work.

  Hi Tim, how are you? Any progress with the info you said you’d find?

  After pressing the send button, she stared at her phone for a minute, before deciding to make herself a tea whilst she waited.

  With the roaring kettle still ringing in her ears, she poured the water into a mug over a tea bag, mixed in some milk and sat down, to stare at the phone as she drank. The mug was all but drained by the time her phone started jumping around the table.

  Hi darling, I’m well thanks. Just enjoying a lie in. Sorry, no progress with the info. Contact isn’t back at work until Monday.

  She grinned. He was obviously too sleepy to realize Monday was tomorrow.

  No problem Tim, thanks. Enjoy your lie in, you’ve earned it. Xxx

  Oh well, she thought, pushing back her chair and extending her legs. There’s nothing more I can do, so I might as well enjoy the rest of my Sunday. She leaned back and cradled her head in her hands.

  After staring through the window for five minutes, forcing her mind to blank everything out, she took a deep breath and got to her feet. She had nothing to do all day, so she might as well get out and start making her own inquiries. If she could find anything out, anything at all, she might be able to live with herself and spend the rest of the day relaxing. Besides, it wasn’t right to keep relying on Tim all the time.

  After pausing at the kitchen door to say farewell to her Sunday morning, she put on her jacket, grabbed her laptop, and left the house.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Sunday Afternoon

  Police Station, Police House, Queens Ave, Bicester

  Scarlett looked in her wing mirror, reversed out of her space and headed off along the road. By the time she’d turned the corner, all thoughts of relaxation and lazy Sundays had left her. She’d made her decision. She would dedicate the rest of the day to doing her own investigative work and she wasn’t going to stop until she had some answers.

  Last time she had driven to the police station, it had taken ten minutes, but today the quiet roads saw her there in seven. Her indicator ticked and she pulled up in the carpark, back to a wooden fence, windscreen looking out at the side entrance to reception. Through a small window to the side of the reception desk, she could just about make out a uniformed police officer, typing away on her computer.

  Despite all her recent dealings with the police, she still found police stations to be a bit disconcerting. It was like every time you stepped in, even if you had done nothing wrong at all, you were being watched, treated with suspicion as if you were about to pull out a gun or something. And then there was the matter of the criminals, who were locked up or being interrogated in the interview rooms. They might have someone like Peter Sutcliffe in there, waiting to prey on his next unsuspecting female.

  Maybe it was just paranoia. But whatever it was, now that she’d arrived in the carpark, she found herself reluctant to take the plunge. Yes, Scarlett Slater had lost her nerve and shown her true colors at last. What she needed was a way of finding some answers without having to set foot inside. Staring through the window at the woman beavering away on her computer, Scarlett had an idea.

  Browsing through the list of available networks on her
phone, she saw the police’s internal system. It had been all over the news about their insecure networks, so maybe if she tried to connect ... She selected ‘Bicester Police’ and waited.

  She watched the circle go around and around with a sliver of hope more than an expectation. Their network was bound to be secure, encrypted even, with a password that would take a hundred hackers ten years to decipher. The circle started to slow and she held her breath. Next thing she knew, her phone read ‘Connected to Bicester Police’. She shrieked and searched for the URL to their intranet. Once it appeared on the search engine results page, however, she left her finger hovering for a few seconds while she contemplated her next move.

  Despite everything that she’d gotten herself embroiled in, she was still a law-abiding citizen. Of course, she’d had her fair share of scrapes, but still, she’d remained within the boundaries of the law. If she was to go ahead with this, it would represent a cornerstone moment. Hacking was illegal and if she did end up in one of the interview rooms, they might just throw the book at her.

  On the flip side though, she had a duty to help and protect her friends. After all, there might come a time when she needed the same from them. And if they refused, due to some insignificant technicality of the law, she wouldn’t be pleased to say the least. It wasn’t like she’d be asking them to kill someone, was it?

  Not only that, but there was nothing malicious about her intentions. She wanted to get the information for her friends, not for her own gain. No one was going to get hurt by it.

  After a minute’s silent contemplating, weighing up the pros and cons, she touched the URL and waited for the police intranet to load.

  After several minutes of touching, swiping and waiting, she found a file marked with McMillan’s name. “Yes!” she hissed, and casting an eye towards the reception desk, punched the air.

  She tried to scroll down to read the document, but it was slow and kept jumping about all over the place. Absorbing the information using her phone was going to be practically impossible, so she copied the file to the cloud and disconnected from the police intranet.

  When she looked up again, the woman at the desk in reception was looking right at her. Maybe they had some way of tracking who was using their intranet, maybe that was why the security appeared to be so poor. Oh my God. She was going to end up as an interviewee in one of those rooms. They were going to throw the book at her, turn her into an example.

  Focusing on the road through the passenger window, she pulled out of the carpark, drove along the side of the building and took a right into town.

  It was only once she’d turned at least two corners and become part of the Sunday traffic, that she was able to breathe a sigh of relief. If that police officer at the desk had indeed worked out that she was hacking their system, she was going to be in big trouble. And if they could identify her, they’d know where she lived. They were probably sending a car around at this very moment. She had to think quickly.

  If the worst came to the worst and they arrested her, she’d need a lawyer. Inevitably, her mind flashed to what her aunt had told her the previous day about black sorcerers for hire, but she quickly dismissed the idea. However, if the police had concrete proof, and if she had any chance at all of clearing her name, her lawyer would have to get creative. Waiting at a set of traffic lights, she thought it all through logically.

  She was trying to help out a friend in need. She’d done nothing wrong herself. And because her intentions were purely benevolent, all she had done was revealed a flaw in the security system’s deficiencies without the data falling into malicious hands. Really, they should be thanking her. She grinned. Yeah, that should do it. Panic over, she again focused on the job at hand.

  Driving through town, she decided she didn’t want to risk Raven seeing her with the report. Her presence might cloud her judgment for one thing and Scarlett was determined to remain purely objective throughout her investigation. Besides, she needed to be around people right now. So, she made her way to Costa Coffee.

  Stepping through the doors, laptop case in hand, she grimaced. While the shop was always busy on weekdays, she’d hoped it might be a bit quieter on a Sunday, but no. To all the coffee addicts, it seemed that Sunday was just another day. Shame.

  She thought briefly about turning around and perhaps heading off to Starbucks or Café Nero, but she knew they’d be just as bad. So in the end, she decided to join the back of the queue and take her chance.

  For what seemed like an age she stood there, watching people come and go. It wasn’t until she was the next in line to be served that she managed to get a look at the back section, where she tended to go with Amanda. When she realized there wasn’t a spare seat to be found, her heart sank.

  She was in the process of deliberating whether or not to head off home and take a chance that Raven wouldn’t go looking over her shoulder, when the barista caught her eye and smiled.

  She should have called Amanda and asked her to come. It was always safer when there was two of you, because one could get the drinks in while the other sat and waited. When he asked for her order, she threw another glance towards the back section and became all of a fluster.

  “I… errr.”

  His face was the picture of polite patience. She didn’t have to turn around though, to feel the pressure coming from the people behind her in the queue. The assistant smiled again. “What can I get you, have you decided yet?”

  “Oh, I’ll have a cappuccino please.” She wasn’t usually a fan of cappuccinos, but this was the first item on the list and it saved her from the added pressure of having to choose. She could feel the eyes of everyone behind her burning holes into her skull.

  “Drink in or to go?”

  This was the pressure question. The one she’d been dreading since she first walked in. She decided to take a chance. “Oh, errr… drink in?”

  He smiled and passed a white mug to the barista next to him.

  Five minutes later, the moment she’d been fearing since she first saw the queue had arrived. She was standing in the middle of the shop, holding a mug of coffee, with nowhere to sit. She noticed the sugars and stirrers out of the corner of her eye.

  After emptying the contents of three sugar packets into her mug, she stood stirring over and over, for as long as possible, until, eventually, she decided she must look a bit odd. So, turning around, she again scoured the room for seats and finding none, approached a nearby woman to ask if the seat opposite was occupied. Standing up close, she found a shopping bag, taking up the entire seat. The woman glanced up and quickly returned to her newspaper.

  She was about to move on to ask a man with a laptop the same question, when someone shouted to gain her attention. “Err, excuse me?”

  Scarlett scanned the room to see an elderly gentleman with a handlebar mustache, preparing to leave.

  “There’s a spare seat here if you like.” He even pulled the chair out for her.

  “Thank you so much,” she said gratefully as they passed each other.

  Noticing a woman entering the shop and sending a horde of kids to run and grab the table, she rushed forward, beating them to it by a matter of seconds.

  Of course, she felt guilty and considered giving up her place for a couple of seconds, until another table became vacated and the woman called them back to grab that one instead. Scarlett smiled to herself and breathed a sigh of relief. Emergency averted. Everyone was happy.

  By the time she’d taken her first sip of coffee, she’d almost forgotten what she’d come for in the first place. It was only once she’d glanced down and remembered the bag beside her foot was a laptop case, that she remembered.

  Pushing her coffee to one side, she placed her laptop on the table, pressed the switch and waited for it to boot up. A minute later, she had the document up on the screen in front of her.

  After all that, the police report didn’t tell her much. In fact, there wasn’t a single detail that she hadn’t observed for herself at the
scene. It seemed the police hadn’t pinpointed the date and time of his death yet. Nonetheless, she went through the entire document, reading each word individually, looking for clues that she might have missed. Still nothing new, aside from the fact that the post-mortem had yet to be submitted, which was, she assumed, another job for tomorrow.

  However, there were some photos, which she did find useful.

  Sitting back, she folded her arms, stared at the remaining drop of coffee in her mug and mulled things over. Had her decision to forgo her day of rest been in the tiniest bit justified? No, not really. She hadn’t learned anything more about Robert from the police file. And without Tim available to give her new information about Raven’s capture, she practically didn’t know anything at all.

  Even in the short time she’d known Raven, she’d grown fond of her. All she wanted was to rule her out as a suspect. As far as she could see, the only way of doing that would be to confirm that she was taken before McMillan was killed, and as she hadn’t managed to gather this information yet, she had to conclude that her attempts at taking matters into her own hands had been a grand waste of time.

  +++

  Monday Evening

  Bicester Kebab and Pizza House, 32 Market Square, Bicester

  “Good evening.” Tim leaned over the passenger seat to give Scarlett a kiss. “Nice to see you in my car again.”

  Stepping into the car and making herself comfortable, she grinned. “Well, word on the street is Tim Clark’s car is the top tourist destination in Bicester. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

  She watched the road come towards her all the way to the end, where they had to stop to let a lorry go past. Shifting her line of vision from the passing lorry to Tim, Scarlett said, “So, not that I’m not enjoying your car, but where are we going?”