Page 51 of Fiendish Delights
‘Even if there is, we don’t know what that magic might be,’ Slim said. ‘So we have no way to counter its effects.’
Mark, a tall elf from the research team, raised his hand. ‘We’ve spent hours poring over old documents relating to the graveyard and the sort of magic that might be used to hide a powerful piece of treasure there. So far we’ve narrowed it down to twenty-three possible spells, none of which we can check. Mud McAlpine remains gravely ill in hospital, so we can’t find out what else he knows. And as for the graveyard?’ He sighed. ‘It might be the poet’s final resting place, it might not. We don’t even know if Dafydd ap Gwillem’s body has anything to do with the treasure. Everything is conjecture.’
Hugo gazed at me. ‘Do you have an idea, Daisy?’
I answered honestly. ‘I have more conjecture.’ I checked the time. ‘But conjecture that can be proved in less than ten minutes.’
I was met with a sea of confused faces. ‘The New Year bells are going to ring very soon. It’s a time for fresh starts, resolutions.’ I paused. ‘New beginnings.’
Something glinted in Hugo’s eyes. ‘And New Year has often been linked with fire.’
Becky snapped her fingers. ‘There’s that place up north! Stonehaven, right? Where the townsfolk swing fireballs to ward off evil spirits for another year?’
Mark said, ‘In Latin America they burn effigies to cleanse and bring good luck. In Russia, people write their wishes on scraps of paper, burn them and drink the ashes when the countdown begins.’
Miriam re-joined the group. ‘So we burn something?’
‘A twig.’ Hugo was still watching me. ‘That’s what was written on the scroll.’
‘Any twig?’
I reached for my bag, rummaged inside and pulled out the slender branch I’d pretended was Gladys only minutes earlier. ‘How about a twig recently snipped from the yew tree above Dafydd ap Gwillem’s alleged burial site?’
Grins broke across every face in front of me.
‘It beats slobbery kisses with strangers when the clock strikes midnight,’ Rizwan said.
‘Speak for yourself,’ Hugo murmured but he was smiling, too. ‘That might work. That might definitely work.’
Glasses were disposed of and champagne bottles ignored, as were the raucous sounds coming from downstairs. Instead we all watched the clock and waited, the tension growing by the second.
‘That was intelligent thinking, Daisy.’ Hugo sidled up to me while everyone else shuffled their feet and murmured quietly. ‘On all counts.’ His blue eyes gleamed with anticipation. ‘You should join the Primes full time. There will always be space for you.’
‘I’m freelance,’ I reminded him. ‘This collaboration is a one-off.’
The corners of his mouth crooked up. ‘If you say so.’ He paused. ‘You know, you look lovely tonight.’
My eyes narrowed. ‘What are you after?’
‘I’m merely stating a fact. The dress suits you.’ His eyes dropped and I registered a sudden flicker of confusion. ‘But that necklace…’
My back stiffened. ‘It was a present. I like it.’
‘As do I. It’s beautiful, but it also looks very familiar.’
‘It’s a one-off design.’
He stared at it for a moment longer. ‘How strange.’ He pursed his lips then reached for his bowl of ice cream, which now contained nothing but a puddle of chocolate.
‘It’s melted,’ I told him. Obviously my mother’s tendency to state the obvious had rubbed off during the time I’d spent with her.
Hugo scooped up several creamy droplets with the spoon and lapped at them delicately. ‘One day soon,’ he said quietly, ‘I’m going to make you melt, too.’ He licked his lips and raised the bowl in a toast.
I frowned, trying to ignore the flip-flop of my stomach. He smiled back, displaying his dimple.
‘It’s time,’ Becky said. ‘It’s almost midnight.’
Hugo turned to the Primes. ‘Excellent. Let’s find out if Daisy’s theory is right.’
