Page 63 of Tattered Huntress
Although it went against my every instinct, I pulled back my shoulders and walked around the building in the same direction as the Burlies without making any attempt to hide. Nothing to see here, I projected; just another of Lord Greenwood’s worker bees. I even stopped a couple of time to pull up some audacious weeds that were poking through the gravel.
When no alarms sounded and nobody sprinted over to tackle me, I grew bolder. ‘Hester!’ I hissed. ‘Otis!’
There was no answer. I gritted my teeth and continued on my way. The sensation that something was wrong intensified with every step I took, but I still couldn’t work out why I felt it so strongly. It was as if there were an aura of evil clinging to every nook and cranny, but that didn’t make sense. Buildings couldn’t be evil. That particular trait was reserved for people.
I swung towards the rear of the house. There was no sign of the two security men. There was a solid-looking fire exit to my left but it was closed and there was no way to open it from this side. The three steps leading down from it were heavily scuffed, though, indicating that it was used often.
I walked past it and followed the gravel path to the nextcorner where it branched off in two separate directions. I swivelled to my left away from the grand house, but my sense of foreboding immediately increased. Whatever was wrong with this place was this way.
With no sign yet of either Otis or Hester, I had no choice but to investigate.
As I crept down the path, I examined the different plants and bushes. From what I’d seen outside the walls, the northern perimeter wasn’t too far away. There weren’t many trees here; this section of the grounds had more manicured shrubbery that was low to the ground. Consequently, when I heard the voices of Burly One and Burly Two again and the crunch of their footsteps, I knew that there was nowhere to hide. As soon as they turned the corner, they would see me. I bit my lip hard. There was only one thing to do.
I ruffled my hair to make sure my elven ears were hidden, spun around, dropped my bag to the ground and slid Gladys from my belt. Then I crouched beside a rhododendron bush and started to hum as I sliced off stalks and stems and several flowers that were past their best.
Within seconds, the two men reached me. ‘Good afternoon,’ I murmured, making sure to keep my back turned so that neither my face nor Gladys were visible.
‘Afternoon,’ Burly One grunted. His arm brushed my spine as he trudged past but I didn’t look up; I simply continued snipping.
‘Did you catch that film on BBC One last night?’ Burly Two asked his companion.
I didn’t bother listening to the reply; I was too overcome with relief. It had been a considerable risk but, given that I already knew from the Hags With Rags van that Greenwood employed contractors, I figured that even the alert security team wouldn’t question yet another face busy at work in thegrounds. That was the trouble with large properties; you needed a lot of staff to keep them running smoothly.
Of course, it helped that I was small, female and didn’t look dangerous. Sometimes perception is what counts. Lord Greenwood and his team threw everything they had into high-tech security yet they forgot about their weakest link: themselves. I’d spent enough time delivering boxes and letters to heavily guarded buildings to know that it was easier to slip through a security net than most people realised, whether you were sanctioned to or not.
Once I was certain that the men had disappeared, I straightened up. ‘Thanks, Gladys,’ I whispered.
Her hilt buzzed in a disgruntled fashion and I stifled a yelp. ‘What is your problem?’ I muttered. She didn’t answer.
Vaguely irritated, I shook my head and returned her to my belt then continued down the path until I reached a pretty summer pavilion. It was immaculately white-washed, with climbing roses along one side and carefully arranged pots of flowers dotted around the porch. It should have been the perfect vision of a simple yet beautiful garden building – but for the now pulsating sense that it was all wrong.
I edged towards it – and stopped dead. Huh. Well, wasn’t that interesting? A line of white powder that appeared to encircle the structure lay about two inches from my toes. I bent down, dabbed the tip of my forefinger in it and sniffed. My tongue flicking out, I took a tentative taste. Salt. The pavilion was ringed with an unbroken line of salt.
My eyes narrowed. I stayed where I was but I lifted my head and gazed more closely at the building itself, looking past the pretty façade to see the truth. The windows were shuttered; not a glimmer of natural light could seep inside. There were also many glinting flashes of metal, concealed for themost part by the white, wooden cladding but still visible if I looked closely enough.
I’d bet all the pennies in my dwindling bank account that I was looking at iron – and any fool knew that a building ringed with iron and salt was designed to either keep magical creatures out – or to keep them in.
The harder I looked at the pavilion, the more certain I was that this place wasn’t designed for enjoying lazy summer days with a refreshing drink and a good book.
It was a prison.
Chapter
Twenty-Four
Ididn’t feel any more relaxed now that I knew why there was such a discomfiting atmosphere. Instead, my concern for Hester and Otis ratcheted up several notches – and I was starting to realise why Alisdair Greenwood was so unpleasant towards elves. Any elf on this property, low or high, would have sensed the same wrongness. Greenwood was clearly desperate to hide whatever nasty shit he was up to. As far as I was concerned, regardless of what lay inside that summer pavilion-cum-prison, he was no longer a media irritant. He was a complete fucking villain.
I circled the building looking for weak points or any indication that Hester or Otis had been there. Both the salt and iron bindings were unbroken so it would be incredibly difficult for an elf like me to pass through them. I shook my head. Not good. Not good at all.
I tried calling out again, praying that the brownies would hear me. ‘Hester!’ I hissed. ‘Otis!’
Nothing. My anxiety increased.
I opened my mouth to call again – then snapped it shut. I ran to the other side of the pavilion and squinted hard at thelarge oak leaf that had fallen to the ground and lay between the ring of salt and the iron-clad wall. My stomach clenched. A tiny arm was visible, flopping out from underneath the leaf. There they were.
I didn’t stop to think about what had possessed them to pass through the salt barrier. The effort of crossing it had clearly cost them dearly and I couldn’t tell if they were still breathing or not. All I knew was that I had to reach them as quickly as possible and that meant passing through the ring of salt.
I tried not to panic and dredged up what little I knew about warded circles. In these supposedly enlightened days, they were considered archaic and cruel. Trolls like Duchess were allowed to take up residence under bridges and had the freedom to come and go as they pleased. Snakes like Bella, whether they were man-eating or otherwise, were not ring-fenced; Bella would only attack when her territory was disturbed. She didn’t go searching for people to eat. Respectful co-existence was the name of the game, not unnecessary imprisonment.
