Page 4 of Secrets of the Frostbound Cottage

I maintained a poker face with effort. Her ears weren’t the strangest thing I’d ever seen. Ezra, one of my best friends in Witchlight Cove when I was a kid, had been a werewolf and I’d lived in a town full of magical beings for most of my life. But I’d been outside that world for more than seven years. I’d pushed the magical world away. Hard.

Yet here it was, clawing me back.

Even in Witchlight Cove, I’d never encountered a being like Orla. Still, I didn’t need to have to meet one to know what I was looking at: Mum’s education had been thorough. ‘You’re an elf,’ I said.

Though it wasn’t a question, she nodded. ‘Yes. I am.’

‘Well,’ I said, leaning back slightly on a sigh. ‘Let’s start at the beginning.’

Chapter Three

A thousand questions ran through my head. Where did elves live? Why weren’t there any in Witchlight Cove? What magical powers did they have? It wasn’t just nosiness: I wanted to know so that I could assess the level of threat I might face if she turned on me.

Some fae folk, like sprites, had a nasty toxic bite though they rarely used it. This girl might not have looked like she could poison me with a nip, but that was the point: innocent looks did a great job of luring people into a false sense of security – and she looked as innocent as the Disney Snow White. Not the real Snow White, of course, because she was reputed to be a real scary bitch.

I knew next to nothing about elves, and my parents would certainly have warned me if they had been perceived as a potential threat to the Eternal Flame that we guarded, so I probably didn’t need to be too worried. Besides, Orla was clearly distressed and the last thing I wanted to do was to make thatworse. My questions could wait – but finding out about her situation couldn’t.

I started gently. ‘Do you have a picture of your parents?’

She reached into a pocket and pulled out a folded, well-thumbed photograph of three beautiful blonde elves. I took it from her and studied them. They all had matching green eyes and pale skin. The male, Barrie, had broad shoulders but an athletic build, and Simone had the same waif-like form as her daughter. They were peas in a pod.

I handed the precious picture back after snapping a copy of it with my phone. ‘A beautiful family,’ I murmured. ‘Tell me what happened to your parents, Orla. When did they go missing?’

‘It’s been over a week now,’ she said. ‘Nine days.’

‘Nine days?’ I tried to keep my voice and my posture neutral. My clients didn’t usually have magical skills, but most people could read at least a little body language. I had learned that if I showed the slightest hint that their case might not be smooth sailing, they would start to worry. Still, nine days was a long time. Her parents could already be on the other side of the planet.

‘And where were they when they went missing?’ I asked. ‘Did they go missing from home?’

‘No.’ She shook her head. ‘They went away for the weekend for their anniversary to the Rollright Stones. They’re in Oxfordshire. Do you know them?’

It was my turn to shake my head. ‘No, I don’t.’

‘It’s like a mini-Stonehenge,’ she explained. ‘A very mini one.’

The facts were mounting up so I picked up a pad and started making notes. ‘Excuse my lack of knowledge, but are they important to you? The stones,’ I hastened to add, in case she thought I meant her parents.Obviouslyher parents were important to her. ‘I mean, are the stones powerful or symbolic for elves?’

She smiled sadly. ‘They’re important to my parents because it’s where they first met. That’s why they go back each year. But no, they’re not important to most elves. Of course, there’s magic there and we do visit, but no more than any other supernatural sect. Wherever there are trees, that’s where magic is for us.’

Elves + trees = magic,I scribbled, not the most in-depth description, but it would do as an aide memoire. I briefly wondered if I could get Orla to use the sad potted fern I kept on the windowsill as some sort of magical protection. My flat was woefully thin on wards.

I looked up from my notepad. ‘Okay. When were you expecting them back?’

‘The following day. They always spend one night there and I stay with my aunt. They’ve had the same routine every year since I was born. Usually they come back around midday, but this time they didn’t. When they hadn’t returned by nightfall, I knew something was wrong.’

Her bottom lip was back to trembling again. Poor kid, she was doing her best to hold it together and I ached for her, but I kept my emotions from my face. She needed my professionalism, not my sympathy. Still, the not knowing was the worst.

I placed my notepad on my lap as I looked at her. ‘You said you always stay with your aunt. Was she not worried that they hadn’t come back?’

A flash of anger flickered in her eyes. ‘Yes, of course she was,’ she spat. ‘We went to the village elders that night, but they didn’t want to do anything!’ Outrage coloured her tone. ‘They said we’d probably got muddled. Then two days later, when my parents still hadn’t returned, they said we should just focus on living our lives.’

‘What?’ The word exploded out of me before I could contain it. There went my carefully fostered neutrality. I’d heard a lot of batshit crazy things in this job, but expecting someone to focusonliving their liveswhen their parents were missing had to be up there at the top, right next to‘I’m sure the vampire who bit me was just playing.’

‘Why would they say that? Do you think they’re involved?’ I probed.

‘No.’ She shook her head firmly. ‘They were scared, terrified that if something had happened to Mum and Dad it could happen to them, too – that it could happen to all of us. They thought it was safer to do nothing.’

Ah, the age-old philosophy:‘If I ignore the problem, maybe it’ll ignore me back.’I’d found it worked brilliantly for unpaid bills and diet plans.

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