‘A clown? At a pet crematorium?’

I shrugged. ‘A bit avant garde, I admit.’ I glanced at him. ‘Blackbeard would recognise you too, so you should wear a disguise as well.’

‘I am not dressing up as a clown, Ivy.’

I wrinkled my nose. ‘No, a clown wouldn’t suit you. I was thinking of something more distracting. Tarzan, perhaps. That would be easy to manage. You just need to strip off and I’ll fashion you a quick loincloth to wear.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous.’

I kept my expression blank. ‘You can go starkers, if you’d prefer.’

Winter pressed his lips together. ‘You know we’re here tracking down a vicious, evil bastard who has destroyed at least seven lives and who would destroy many more given half the chance?’

‘This is what we humans do. We have a sense of humour and we make the best of everything. If you can’t laugh, what’s the point of living?’

Winter’s eyes travelled slowly up and down my body, heat flaring in his gaze. ‘I can think of one or two things.’

Beaten at my own game, I swallowed and looked away. If I looked directly at Winter much longer, I’d be tempted to jump him right here in the car park. ‘Let’s find that vicious, evil bastard, shall we?’ I said instead.

A smile tugged at Winter’s mouth but he nodded in agreement.

The glass-fronted façade of Dignity Valley was nondescript. It could have been the front of any office or business. Perhaps there was a factory somewhere churning out identical buildings so that everywhere in the land leisure centres, police stations, DIY depots and dead-pet disposal services looked exactly the same.

This particular establishment was closed. There were no lights on inside and the doors didn’t swoosh open as we approached. That was a shame – I love electronic doors. What’s better than not having to expend the effort to turn a door handle yourself? They are almost on a par with robot vacuum cleaners and the moving walkways you get at airports.

Winter searched around for a doorbell or comms box. I tilted my head to one side and pulled back my hair, drawing a quick rune to temporarily extend my hearing. There was only so much magic could do but I was certain I could hear the faint strains of what apparently passed for music in these parts. I tapped Winter’s shoulder and gestured round towards the back of the building. He nodded and we carefully edged down a well-worn path.

The music, some godawful screeching with a heavy bass line that was totally at odds with the peaceful surroundings, was coming from a fire door that had been propped open round the back. Winter and I exchanged glances and immediately snuck in.

Avoiding the source of the music, we veered left, following a drab beige corridor round a corner and into an enormous room stacked full of urns and boxes. Suddenly I was glad that Brutus had chosen to stay sleeping in the taxi rather than come with us. He’d never struck me as the kind of cat who would enjoy picking out his own urn, although no doubt if he did he’d demand the top-of-the-range, gold-plated version just to enjoy emptying my bank account. In reality, when it was time to use the thing, he’d be dead and he wouldn’t care what kind of vessel his remains ended up in. Of all the things the ghosts had complained about, none of them had mentioned being irritated by their physical holding arrangements.

Turning around again, Winter headed for a closed door halfway back down the corridor. The difference as we entered this new area was marked: these walls weren’t a dull, dirty colour but a calming light purple. There were three small offices to the right, none of which were locked. Winter stepped into the first one and lifted a photo frame from the small wooden desk. He glanced at it, returned it to its place then shook his head.

I headed into the second office. There weren’t any helpful family photographs in this one but there was the lingering scent of heavy perfume. Unless Blackbeard had a penchant for sickly florals with lilac undertones, this room had nothing to do with him either.

Winter checked the final room, exiting almost as quickly as he entered with a gruff, albeit muted, denial. If Blackbeard did work here, he didn’t have anything to do with the management team.

We headed towards the front and the deserted reception area. The name tag on the desk was for an Alison Hibbert. No luck there, then. We continued, popping into family rooms no doubt designed for heartbroken pet owners to wait in. Apart from tastefully placed fake flowers, and leaflets to help people through the grieving process, there was nothing here. Maybe instinct didn’t count for much after all.

Winter beckoned me over. ‘There’s nothing here that’s of any use,’ he whispered.

I nodded. ‘We should look for filing cabinets and personnel files. Maybe we’ll get lucky and there’ll be photographs of the employees.’

‘As a last resort, we’ll have to confront whoever is still here playing that music in the back. But until we know more about who Blackbeard is and who his friends are, I don’t really want to do that.’

I gave him a sloppy salute. He was used to this kind of gig and knew what he was doing. ‘Maybe we should search the smaller outbuildings,’ I suggested. With any luck, we’d bypass the furnaces. The thought of them gave me the creeps.

We went back the way we’d come, taking as much care to stay quiet and remain unobtrusive as we could. The music now had a more muffled quality, as if the sound had been turned down. Relaxing a little, I picked up my feet and moved a faster. That was my first mistake.

Slightly ahead of Winter, I turned the corner towards the back door entrance and froze. Silhouetted against the darkening sky was a large man, standing at the threshold and smoking. I barely had a second to take him in before I pulled back and grabbed Winter’s arm, gesturing frantically. Because of the light and the fact that he’d been turned away I hadn’t seen the man’s face clearly – but there was definitely a shiny bald head and a bushy black beard.

Winter’s eyes darkened to a stormy blue and he dipped his head forward to look. Almost immediately he drew back in, his features and his body tense. We shared a glance of grim determination – coupled with a tiny edge of satisfaction. Although I’d felt the same as Winter and my gut had been telling me that Blackbeard’s trail would lead here, I hadn’t expected to find the man himself.

Winter tugged at my sleeve, pulling me further back into the main building. He didn’t speak until we were out of earshot. ‘He’s wearing a uniform,’ he whispered so quietly that I had to strain to hear. ‘He must be a security guard.’

I agreed. ‘And on the night shift, no less.’ It was perfect – if you wanted to secretly cremate bodies without being observed. ‘How do we do this? We can’t use magic against him because it won’t work. And if he’s a security guard, he’s probably armed.’ Not with a gun – this was middle England, after all – but there was a chance he had a Taser or a knife. Even a baton used by someone who knew what they were doing could cause us problems. Hell, for all we knew he could have a bloody submachine gun with him. It was unlikely, but nothing was impossible where Blackbeard was concerned. Besides, I was a plump woman of less than average height and rather dubious fitness. Winter, naturally, was in a better position to attack Blackbeard without a spell to back him up but even he would find it tough. The man was built like an oak tree.

‘You stay here,’ Winter said. ‘Call the police, the Ipsissimus and whoever you can get hold of at Arcane Branch. Tell them to advance here on the double. I’ll make sure Blackbeard doesn’t get away.’

‘You’re fit, Winter, but he has to be twice your size.’

‘I can do this.’

He was an idiot. ‘Actually,’ I said, ‘I don’t think you can. Look, just because we can’t use magic directly against him doesn’t mean we can’t use magic around him.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘We could weaken the building’s foundations to the point of collapse. I know a few spells for that. We bring several tonnes of concrete down onto his head, then he’ll stop moving. He’ll be as flat as a pancake.’

Winter nodded gravely, as if he were taking my suggestion seriously. ‘There’s just one tiny problem with that scenario, Ivy.’ He waved a hand. ‘We’re inside the same building and the only way out is the exit where Blackbeard is standing.’