Secrets of the Frostbound Cottage (Witchlight Magical Mysteries)

10. Chapter Ten

Chapter Ten

Just because I’d never seen a field of orchids in England in March didn’t mean it wasn’t possible to grow them. I definitely wasn’t a horticulturalist; maybe I’d just been oblivious to their growth patterns and they were always around at this time of year.

A hasty internet search told me that wasn’t the case: orchids thrived in warmer climates, like in Asia, and even the hardiest couldn’t cope with a frost. If they’d been in a polytunnel or a greenhouse I’d have understood it, but these were out in an open field, surrounded by leafless trees and brown grass. The entire scene looked unnatural, so how the hell were they growing there?

One word sprang to mind: magic.

I opened the car door, ready to see what I could find, but before I could climb out of Rosie the puppy leapt across my lap and scrambled out onto the grass. ‘Hey! What are you doing? You’re meant to stay in there!’ I called, pointing firmly to the car.

She turned her head to the side and gave me a withering look. A moment later, she relieved herself on the grass.

‘Oh,’ I said, feeling guilty. I’d not even thought about letting her out to have a pee and a poo, and I was grateful she hadn’t done it in the car. ‘Good point. I’m really sorry about that. I’ll do better in the future,’ I promised. ‘Right, now that you’re comfy, get back inside the car, please. I don’t want you getting into trouble while I’m trying to find these elves.’

I gestured towards the open door, assuming she’d helpfully jump back inside, but instead she started sniffing delightedly at the grass. She lifted a paw and batted at it, delighting in the crunchy sound it made.

Oh heck: she’d never been out of her cage. She raised her little head and sniffed the air, her tail wagging so vigorously there was a real risk it would wag right off. I watched the soft smile on her face as she looked in wonder at her surroundings.

Then she turned away and started trotting in the opposite direction.

The beautiful moment broke. ‘Oi! Dog!’ I called after her, a pang of annoyance striking me. Much as I loved her positive emotions, I wasn’t half as keen on the negative ones; if I’d wanted those, I’d have stayed in Witchlight Cove.

She ignored me; it seemed she didn’t like being called ‘Dog’. ‘I’m not naming you,’ I called after her, well aware what had caused her annoyance. ‘Owners name their dog and I am not your owner. We’re just companions for now.’

She glanced back at me with what looked alarmingly like a smirk and kept trotting away.

‘If you get yourself lost or injured or—’ I stopped mid-sentence. The puppy had stopped, too, on the edge of the orchid field next to a very narrow pathway. Though it hadn’t rained last night, the earth was damp and there were several clear footprints leading away from us.

‘I guess this is the way we’re going, then, Pooch,’ I said.

Something told me she wasn’t going to sit quietly in the car, and I didn’t want to waste any more time. Besides, I didn’t want her to attract unwanted attention by barking if I left her alone. It looked like she was coming with me. I tried to pretend it was my decision.

The track was narrow but went straight through the flowers; it reminded me forcefully of my earlier thoughts, when I’d wished for a crime scene in a meadow. Well, lucky me: perhaps I’d manifested a nicer location for suspicious activity.

I looked around at the eerie sight. There was definitely something going on here. The flowers were so bright and luscious that even if it had been summer, I would’ve expected them to be growing in a greenhouse. Even so, the beautiful setting made it hard to feel the same sense of foreboding I had when I stepped into a dark warehouse or a dimly lit alley.

At the end of the orchid field stood the quintessential English thatched cottage, the kind of picture-perfect house you’d find on a postcard or a chocolate box. It was so picturesque that it was almost impossible to believe that something bad could have happened here yet, as the dog bolted towards it, that was what my gut told me.

I called her back in as quiet a whisper as I could manage. ‘Not yet. Hold on! I need to check something first.’

Thankfully she listened, ran back and sat obediently by my feet. So far she’d seemed obedient – as long as my orders happened to coincide with her wishes. I praised her nonetheless. Wasn’t that how you trained a dog?

I patted her. ‘Good girl. Now, we need to move slowly and carefully otherwise we could get into trouble. No barking. Stealth is the name of the game.’

She looked at me like she understood me, and I had a brief flicker of hope that my abysmal magical skills were growing. Maybe my empathy meant she really could understand me?

When my magic hadn’t flourished as it should have done, my parents had been determined that wouldn’t be a barrier to me assuming my inherited role as guardian in Witchlight Cove. As a Stonehaven, it was my birthright, and when my parents had passed it had become my duty. One I’d promptly abandoned.

My parents had tried to imbue me with as much knowledge and moral fibre as possible, but evidently they’d failed.

I pushed down the old hurts and looked around. This wasn’t about my parents; this was about Orla’s. I had to find them, and my gut said they were here. If, like so many others in my position, I couldn’t feel where magic was taking place I’d have to rely on spotting signs of it.

If anything untoward was going on here, the trees were the best place to look for clues. Scanning the area, I spotted a large oak and walked towards it. I was still three feet away when I saw a sign that made my stomach twist. ‘Honey fungus,’ I muttered darkly.

The dog tilted her head, but I didn’t bother explaining what the fungus meant; she wasn’t going to use the information – but I could.

Honey fungus is invasive, spreading beneath the surface of the soil and affecting everything in its path. The yellow-coloured growth occurs in the non-magical community, too; it is a parasite, feeding off dying trees and accelerating their demise. But in the magical community its growth was strongly associated with black magic – and this amount of it was definitely not a good sign.

‘Well then.’ I glanced first at the dog and then at the cottage. ‘Shall we see who’s home?’