Page 37

Chapter

Twenty-Seven

I had no idea what Fergus did to Quentin Hightower but several times I felt waves of strange magic pulse through the walls of the waiting room.

He Who Guards raised his hackles on three separate occasions but waited by my side and didn’t try to leave or suggest that he sensed anything to be truly worried about.

The clinic’s front door opened twice. The first time, an elderly druid popped his head around and eyed me.

He didn’t say a word, just harrumphed loudly and slammed the door as he disappeared again, as if he couldn’t countenance the idea of waiting.

About twenty minutes later, a pixie tiptoed in looking flushed and feverish, as if she were in the throes of some nasty virus.

I hoped it wasn’t contagious; I didn’t have time to be ill.

She hugged her arms around her thin body and shivered in the corner.

She didn’t seem surprised by the lack of a receptionist so I reckoned she’d been to this clinic before.

I considered striking up a conversation before deciding I was already busy enough with other people’s problems. Even Trilby would agree that there were limits.

Besides, nothing about the pixie’s manner suggested she was feeling sociable .

At exactly one minute past one, the door leading to the examination room opened and Quentin Hightower walked out. He still looked pale but he was walking unaided and his skin was no longer deathly pale. Fergus had come through.

I moved to the side to block the exit to the street; I didn’t want Hightower to escape before I’d had the chance to quiz him.

I shouldn’t have worried because the witch offered me a half-smile and sat down heavily on a chair.

‘Thank you,’ he said stiffly. ‘That’s the second time you’ve saved my life. ’

I tilted my head. ‘And that’s the first time you’ve sounded grateful.’

The pixie stared at me, her eyes wide. When He Who Guards sprang up and launched himself at Hightower, she looked even more shocked. ‘Hey!’ I said sharply. ‘Stop that!’

The cat lashed out, his claws snagging the trouser material around Hightower’s left calf. I didn’t entirely blame him; that yellow and lilac tweed was offensive.

‘Leave him alone,’ Fergus barked from the doorway.

He pointed to a faded sign on the far wall that stated that violence would not be tolerated under any circumstances.

I had yet to meet a cat who could read, but He Who Guards moved away to wash his face.

As far as the tabby was concerned, he’d made his point.

‘Mr Hightower is under orders not to exert himself for the next forty-eight hours,’ Fergus said. ‘If you’re planning to torture him, leave it until then or his heart might give way quicker than you’d like.’

The pixie looked as if she were about to pass out.

I crossed my arms. ‘I won’t torture him,’ I protested.

Fergus shrugged. ‘So you say. Whether you do or don’t, he’s paid his bill in full so you are freed from your vow to meet the costs. ’

That was good. I glanced at Hightower; his eyes met mine but I couldn’t tell what he was thinking.

Fergus turned to the pixie and gave her a long look. ‘So what have you done this time, Pippa?’ She flinched under the weight of his gaze and dropped her head when he sighed. ‘I’ve told you not to touch magicked herbs like that,’ he muttered. He pointed to the examination room. ‘Come on, then.’

The skinny pixie couldn’t move fast enough. She darted past me, giving He Who Guards a wide berth. Fergus started to follow her. ‘Thank you!’ I called after him, but if he heard me he didn’t react.

Within a few seconds, the only occupants of the waiting room were me, Quentin Hightower and a grumpy tabby cat. ‘Well,’ I said.

Hightower sighed. ‘Well.’ As he stared at me, for the first time I saw a flicker of something vaguely intelligent behind his eyes. Hmm. ‘Who are you?’ he demanded.

My expression didn’t change. ‘I’m the one asking the questions.’

He folded his arms. ‘I am Quentin Hightower.’

‘I know that.’

‘I am important. And skilled. And I am a hero,’ he added with a flourish.

‘A knight in shining armour?’ I asked, unable to help myself.

‘Yes.’

‘A champion of the people?’

‘Of course.’

‘A crusader, saviour and superhero?’

He tapped his foot impatiently. ‘Yes, yes, yes. All of those things. I am in charge here, not you.’ There was no trace of irony in his responses; he truly believed in his own heroism. It was utterly bizarre but it helped me a lot because now I knew exactly how to play him .

I kept my face straight. ‘I’m so honoured to be in the same room as you, to be breathing the same air. My heart is a-flutter.’

He waved a hand, accepting his due rather than assuming that I was laughing at him as most would have done. ‘Many people feel that way about me but it’s only natural. Do sit down if you’re feeling faint.’

I played along and pressed the back of my hand to my forehead. ‘That’s not a bad idea.’ I moved away from the door and sat next to him.

‘That’s better,’ he said. ‘You didn’t have to guard the door, you know. I won’t run away.’ So he wasn’t entirely stupid. ‘Quentin Hightower does not run away from anything.’

Okaaaaay. I held out my hand. ‘I’m Kit. And I’m beginning to suspect that we both want the same thing.’

Hightower shook my hand vigorously. ‘To keep people like Adrienne McDonald safe and to make sure nobody gets their grubby hands on silphium? Yes.’

‘Nobody gets hold of silphium?’ I asked sceptically. ‘Not even you? A great witch like you could do wonderful things with some silphium seeds.’

His answer was swift but there was a steely edge to his tone. ‘I could, Kitty, I could. But I do not need silphium to do wonderful things. I am already wonderful. In truth, silphium is too dangerous for any single entity to possess – even me.’

He ran a hand through his hair, which was no longer styled in a ridiculous comedy quiff but looked bedraggled and limp. Frankly, it was an improvement. ‘I cannot permit anyone to control such a dangerous product.’

I gazed at him, taking in his droopy hair and his silly clothes. I was beginning to think that there was more to Hightower than met the eye and it was only his own ego which got in his way. ‘You’re far more than you pretend to be, aren’t you, Mr Hightower? ’

He smiled slightly. ‘I was born with a silver spoon in my mouth. The Hightowers have been successful over the years, and it would be easy to take advantage of my position and sit back to enjoy my wealth and privilege. I want everyone in Coldstream to be equally successful. Silphium threatens the equilibrium which we all fight to maintain.’ His expression darkened.

‘Enough innocent people have already died because of it.’

There actually was something of the hero about the man. Maybe he wasn’t quite the hero any of us wanted, but I couldn’t claim that position either. I’d killed far more people than I’d saved; Hightower was a much better member of civilised society than I was.

‘I could put silphium to good use,’ he continued.

‘But it wouldn’t be wise. There are many who would worry that someone like me, who is already wealthy, intelligent and powerful, could be corrupted by it.

I am too pure of heart to present such a danger but silphium offers too many problems, even in my capable hands. It should be found and destroyed.’

‘You’re a good man, Mr Hightower.’

‘I am. Probably the best man in Coldstream.’

I didn’t smirk. ‘And you are trying to do what is best.’

‘Of course.’

‘You truly are a hero.’

He smiled. I dropped my voice and spoke softly. ‘That must be incredibly lonely.’

His expression dimmed. ‘Yes.’ He looked down. ‘It is.’

There was a heavy weight behind his words. Few people took Quentin Hightower seriously except himself. There was merit in his serious attitude towards his responsibilities, despite his self-involvement.

‘Tell me,’ I said. ‘How did you get mixed up in all this?’

Hightower watched while He Who Guards huffily took up the position I’d vacated. From the cat’s expression, neither of us were to be trusted. I didn’t blame him.

‘I am known as someone with a big heart and a generous soul. A few weeks ago, a young witch called Simon Campbell contacted me. He told me he was peddling a magical herb that would change the world. If I was prepared to hand over enough money, he would grant me exclusive rights to it.’

‘Silphium.’

‘Yes. Silphium.’ He scratched his chin. ‘I thought it was a scam. Silphium is the holy grail and it didn’t seem credible that a lowly witch with little power had found it, but I was prepared to reserve judgment until I could see it with my own eyes. I am open-minded and clever in that way.’

‘Very clever,’ I murmured.

He inclined his head, accepting my praise as his due.

‘I arranged to meet Campbell at the riverside market to inspect his wares. I brought along several trustworthy witches from my coven who would remain anonymous until I’d confirmed the scam.

Their remit was to take Campbell into custody afterwards and hand him over to the council. ’

My eyes narrowed. ‘You work for the witches’ council?’

He barked a humourless laugh. ‘Goodness, no. They think I’m a fool. But the council has its uses and it is their job to maintain law and order among witches. Sometimes they simply need a push in the right direction from the right person.’

‘And that’s you?’

He shrugged. ‘I am but one man, but I am capable of achieving a great deal. The Campbell matter appeared a fait accompli. He was a confidence trickster who would be brought to task.’

‘Except he wasn’t,’ I said.

‘Indeed. It appears that even I can make mistakes and I suppose it is good to admit that I can be wrong from time to time. Nobody is infallible, not even me.’

‘You’re very humble,’ I told him.

‘Humility is the beginning of wisdom,’ he intoned.