Page 35 of Skullduggery
‘Less. She disappeared on May 30th– it’s only six days away.’ Right now she was alive and well, and we had time to prevent something bad happening to her. ‘Let’s get some money together then see if we can talk to her.’
Otis protested, ‘But you already said we shouldn’t change things. If we prevent her disappearance, won’t that affect the future?’
I didn’t reply. There was something else I needed to consider, too. Athair – and a few of the other fiends I’d come across a couple of months ago – had known me but I hadn’t known them. There was every possibility that they’d met me inthe past before I met them in the future – and that meant I’d been destined to be here in 1994 from the very beginning.
We endedup on Princes Street, Edinburgh’s main shopping area which ran for almost a full mile and provided stunning views of the castle, with not a single useful penny in our pockets. I considered returning to my original plan of heading for the Royal Elvish Institute and asking for help, but if they weren’t keen to let unknown low elves through their hallowed doors in 2024, they certainly wouldn’t have done so in 1994.
The thought of trying to explain to a group of wealthy high elves that I was from the future gave me imaginary hives. If Hugo had been with us, we might have had a chance; he had a smooth tongue and he understood how they operated. On my own, and without his trusty presence by my side, it would be next to impossible to get their help. Besides, there were other avenues I could try first.
Princes Street in 1994 was both very similar and very different to the 2024 version. The buildings were the same, but many of the occupants were different. The fancy Jenners Department Store was not only still open for business but teeming with customers – it wouldn’t close permanently until 2020. And there were other stores that I hadn’t seen for years, such as Littlewoods, Woolworths and Virgin.
A few busking bagpipers remained in situ, and there were lots of buses, but the clothing and hairstyles of the passers-by, while not starkly different, made me feel out of place. The atmosphere wasn’t what I expected, either; the mood of the city seemed lighter than in 2024. The Cold War was over and it wasn’t yet the millennium. The internet existed – but only inprimordial form compared to the all-encompassing behemoth it was now.
I thought of all the disasters and problems the world was due to face in the next thirty years. Thirty years wasn’t a lifetime by any stretch of imagination, but it still felt like a huge gulf.
Thinking that we’d be more successful if my elven identity was hidden, I found a spot in front of Waverley train station. I’d suspected that Hester would be too proud to beg, but she and Otis approached the task with gusto. She gazed mournfully at every person who wandered past us, pleading in a pitiful voice, ‘We don’t have any money for food. Please spare some change.’
‘I’m very hungry,’ Otis added time and time again. ‘So very hungry.’
‘Any spare change will make a huge difference,’ I added to their sterling efforts.
None of it was a lie but, after an hour or two, I wasn’t convinced that it being true made any difference. Thousands of people passed us and most pretended we didn’t exist. Many looked disgusted and swerved away, as if poverty were contagious. However, some were kind, and by lunchtime we’d earned a sausage roll, a packet of crisps and the grand total of £4.23 in small coins. It wasn’t great but it was better than nothing.
I was subduing the worst of the growls of hunger in my stomach with the sausage roll when a young family emerged from the station. A mother, father and a young boy of around eight years old who were well dressed and walking hand in hand.
The boy noticed us first. No doubt unused to busy city centres, he was staring wide-eyed at the throng of people. When his eyes landed on me, he stopped. I smiled automatically and, a second later, he tugged at his mother. ‘We need togive her some money,’ he said, in a high-pitched Scottish accent. ‘Mummy, give the homeless lady some money.’
His mother looked at me, went very pale and looked away again. She tightened her grip on her son’s hand and started to move faster. Her partner shot me a narrow glance and did the same. ‘No, Angus. We’re not going to do that. She’ll only use it for drugs.’
I stiffened and my smile disappeared. A moment later the three of them had gone, replaced by more disinterested passers-by.
I reached into my pocket and fingered my small bag of spider’s silk pills. The encounter had been humiliating, made worse by knowing that the woman was right. Yes, we needed money for food and shelter, but I also needed money so I could find a dealer and get some more spider’s silk. My stash would only last a few more days, and after that I’d drop into sudden, life-threatening withdrawal. Given the way my magic had been acting up over the last day or so, it wouldn’t only be my own life that would be threatened. I bit my lip, trying to keep my anxiety at bay.
‘Don’t worry about the likes of her,’ a young female voice said from close by. ‘She’ll never know what it’s like to be one of us.’
The speaker was in her early twenties. Her well-worn clothes were clean and her eyes were warm, but her cheeks had the slightly gaunt shape of someone who was struggling to make ends meet. I felt a tremendous surge of guilt. I’d been broke and homeless for half a day; this was someone for whom it was a daily experience.
I tried to smile. ‘Yeah,’ I muttered. ‘Thanks.’
‘I’m Tracey,’ she said. ‘I’ve not seen you here before.’
‘I just arrived in the city today.’ In a sense it was the truth. ‘I’m Daisy.’
Tracey grinned and nodded at the brownies. ‘Lots of us have dogs but I’ve never seen someone with fairies by their side.’
I winced, expecting Hester to begin her usual anger-laden speech about mislabelling, but she simply said, ‘We’re brownies, not fairies, but it’s an easy mistake to make.’
Otis’s jaw dropped.
‘I’m sorry!’ Tracey sounded as if she meant it. ‘I’ve never seen a brownie before.’
‘That’s okay.’ Hester looked her up and down. ‘You’re a witch, right?’
Tracey blinked. ‘You can tell by looking?’
Hester pointed. ‘Your fingers are green.’
The young woman glanced down then gave an embarrassed laugh. ‘Yeah, they are. I’ve been collecting plants from the gardens over there.’ She placed a finger to her mouth. ‘Don’t tell anyone. The authorities don’t like it when unauthorised witches harvest around here. We’re supposed to have a permit, but that costs three hundred quid and there’s no way I can find that kind of money.’
