Page 5 of Tattered Huntress
The words fell out of him in a rush. ‘You’re the only person I can trust to do it, Daisy!’
My expression didn’t alter. ‘You mean I’m the only person you can trust to come back with all my limbs intact. Probably.’
‘I can’t send anyone else. I’ve asked. They’ve all said no.’
I sniffed. ‘I’m saying no, too.’
‘Please, Daisy. We have to at least attempt the delivery. We can’t afford to lose the contract for the entire area because of one address – and it’s only one box. You can leave it at the entrance.’
‘You know what happened when Billy tried to do that last year.’
‘We’re SDS. We deliver when it counts,’ McIlvanney regurgitated the firm’s motto. His voice began to wheedle. ‘She likes you.’
‘She doesn’t like anyone.’
‘That’s not true. I really think she likes you a lot.’
That was bullshit and we both knew it; she barely knew who I was. However, I also knew that McIlvanney was desperate. I clicked my tongue. ‘What’s it worth?’ I asked, pretending I didn’t spot the hope flaring in his expression.
‘I can’t afford to give you a pay rise.’
I raised my eyebrows.
‘But you’re due a holiday!’ he said quickly. ‘How about you take it next week? I’ll tack on a few extra days in case you want to get away somewhere nice. You could go and see your folks. They’d like that.’
It had been quite a long time since I’d stayed with them, and I could do with a break from work. In fact, the extra days off would give me more than enough time to find another spider’s silk supplier. I thought about it then I conceded – grudgingly. ‘Alright.’
The sudden smile that broke across McIlvanney’s face was almost wide enough to make my day, even with a trip to Hurley Cove on the horizon. ‘Thank you, Daisy!’
‘You’re welcome.’ I smiled back, although I was certain I was going to deeply regret this. Perhaps I ought to nip home and pick up some protective gear first. A hazmat suit. And body armour. An iron shield might be helpful, although as an elf I couldn’t actually abide the touch of the cold metal. Hell, a flame thrower would be good. If only I actually owned any of those items, I thought with a sigh. Oh, well.
It wasan hour’s drive from the warehouse to Neidpath Castle. As I certainly wasn’t in any rush to make the third delivery at Hurley Cove, I took my time trundling down the road past the towns of Dalkeith and Bonnybridge then the smaller villages of Howgate, Leadburn and Eddleston.
Eventually I turned into Peebles and navigated the streets until I reached the turn off for the castle. The road narrowed and crossed over an arched stone bridge before veering left where, all of a sudden, the castle came into view.
It was located on a gentle slope, nestled between ameandering river on one side and a steeper hill on the other. Despite its sturdy, fortress-like appearance and narrow windows, it was surprisingly pretty. I parked outside the old walls, leaving my van wedged between a gleaming Mercedes and a battered Land Rover with the personalised numberplate HUG5. I smirked slightly before loping around to the van’s rear doors to retrieve the parcel.
I hefted it in my arms then walked through a stone archway towards the castle’s main entrance, which appeared to be a plain black door. It was, I supposed, considerably less daunting than a portcullis would have been.
I knocked loudly. Although the parcel required a signature, I didn’t expect that anyone would hear my knock and open the door for me; this was a castle, not a small tenement flat. But barely twenty seconds after my knock, the door creaked open to reveal a cheerful-looking woman wearing an apron. ‘Hello there!’ she said.
I smiled. ‘I have a delivery. I need a quick signature.’
Her eyes crinkled. ‘That’ll be Mr Pemberville’s box. He’s been waiting for it. If you follow me, I’ll take you to him.’
‘That won’t be necessary,’ I said. ‘You can sign and give it to him.’
She shook her head in alarm. ‘Oh no. He wants it taken directly to him so he can sign for it himself.’
Why on earth was that necessary? I gazed down at the innocuous cardboard box and suddenly felt curious about its contents. However, it wasn’t my business to know what was inside – and it certainly wasn’t my business to question the whim of a famous high elf. I shrugged and followed her inside. At least I’d get a bit of a nosey at the castle’s interior.
The woman, who introduced herself as Marianne, chattered away non-stop as she led me through the hallway. ‘It’s been a grand busy morning so far,’ she told me. ‘People coming andgoing all the time! There’s even a film crew setting up in the library. It’s not normally like this.’
‘He’s on television quite a lot though, isn’t he?’ I asked, certain that I’d seen Hugo Pemberville onThe One Showon numerous occasions. ‘Didn’t he find that old Viking treasure up in the Shetland Isles last month?’
‘Oooh, yes, he did. He’s got a whole team of people working with him and they’re all staying here, too. They call themselves the Primes.’ There was a faintly disapproving edge to Marianne’s voice, suggesting she was unimpressed by the egotistical name.
I glanced at her curiously. ‘Don’t you work with him?’
