Secrets of the Frostbound Cottage (Witchlight Magical Mysteries)

5. Chapter Five

Chapter Five

There was nothing like going into a dark, abandoned urban area to give you that impending sense of doom.

I got it: if you were stealing anything, whether it was dogs, jewellery, cars or whatever , you were hardly going to announce it with a large neon sign. I’d lost count of the number of times I’d found myself in places like this with flickering street lamps and graffiti staining the boarded-up doors. Needless to say, they weren’t my favourite locations.

For once it would have been great if someone could do their nefarious dealings in a nice sunny location. Maybe by the beach in some waterfront villa with big windows and golden light pouring through. Or maybe a crime could take place in a freaking meadow; we could give the sheep a backstory. It would totally work. Was it so much to ask?

But no, it was always this kind of dark wasteland that gave off a creepy vibe, where the shadows seemed to tremble and rats scuttled about. Not that I had anything against rats personally but they were never a great omen.

I slowed and parked up behind another car. A security camera was swivelling lazily out front. Getting caught on camera wasn’t something I particularly wanted; yes, I was following a lead but I was also trespassing a smidge. Being arrested by the very non-magical police would give me more paperwork than a taxman on a caffeine binge.

And, while I admitted to being the most useless witch in any generation of my family, being arrested would be a massive headache, not just for me but for the entire magical community. I would cause a whole heap of fuss they didn’t need and I didn’t want to lay that on them, not after the pain my family had already inflicted on them. With that in mind, I planned my route to skirt around what I estimated was the camera’s field of vision.

As soon as I cut the engine, I knew exactly which warehouse I was heading to. I’d made good time and I should have at least ten or fifteen minutes before I was joined by the cops. Easy-peasy.

Whoever had called in the barking hadn’t been joking about it sounding like a kennel: the racket was cacophonous. I couldn’t imagine how many dogs were in there, but I hoped the one I needed was among the woeful pack.

Slipping my cluttered keychain into my pocket, I edged towards the building and stopped at a large, rust-coloured door that matched Rosie perfectly.

Although I turned the handle and pushed hard, it didn’t move. It was bolted from the inside. An open door would’ve been way too easy. I was good at picking simple residential locks – everyone has to have a hobby – but deadbolts secured from the other side were way beyond my skillset. I needed another point of ingress.

The windows were at least ten feet above the ground. I scanned the area and smiled: there was a large industrial bin sitting beneath one of them … and it looked like it would hold my weight. Perfect. Nothing ever goes wrong when it starts out with a climb on a bin.

I hustled over and put my theory to the test. Because the windows were high up and the warehouse looked decrepit and abandoned, chances were good that I could simply push one of them open. If not, I’d have to break the glass and I’d move from trespass to breaking and entering. It wasn’t an ideal solution but I’d done it before and no doubt I’d do it again.

I gave the window a solid shove and grinned when it creaked open a foot or so. Yahtzee! I could easily slip through that.

When I peered down into the warehouse, there was good news and bad news. The good news was that I could see a shit tonne of caged dogs. The bad news? There was a ten-foot drop to deal with on the other side and I was fresh out of super-hero capes.

Annoyingly, there was no obliging bin for me to step on to. Long drops weren’t my favourite but I’d jumped bigger ones, both here and in Witchlight Cove. Ezra was a pro at them, but I didn’t have a werewolf or shifter’s athleticism; all I had was good old human training. I knew how to fall – all martial artists do – but it was trickier in a situation like this where I couldn’t choose my angles properly.

I tucked in my chin and covered my head with my arm just in case something went wrong, then leapt and landed with a solid thunk that jarred straight up to my molars. Not exactly graceful, but hey, I didn’t break anything. Deducting some points for style, I gave myself a 6.5.

I straightened, only to find dozens of pairs of eyes staring at me. It was like being judged by an audience of fluffy critics.

The caged black-and-white dog closest to me cocked its head, clearly unimpressed by my entrance. ‘Well, excuse me, Lassie,’ I muttered under my breath. ‘Next time, I’ll bring a smoke machine.’

A quick glance told me that none of these dogs were BonBon, not the black-and-white beast in front of me, nor the shaggy one with the soulful, weepy eyes, nor the tiny black scrapper in the corner who looked like he could bite my ankle clean off.

There were a lot of dogs here and I needed to find the one I’d come for; hopefully the police would take care of the rest of them. I started forward into the darkness and prayed that BonBon was among this motley canine crew.