“What is all this?”
“Presents. Thanks.” Cassie relinquished two parcels to Tarian’s care.
“Did you buy the entire gift shop?”
“Well, I couldn’t go empty-handed. I had to get something for Rosemary for looking after Murphy. And for Mum and Dad too, to thank them for inviting us to dinner tomorrow. And I couldn’t leave out Louise—that Armitage business made me miss her birthday—or Danny and Justin or—”
“Forget I asked.”
Cassie threw her a grin, and together they stowed the parcels in what little space remained. “There.” She closed the boot and stood back.
“Going somewhere nice?” came a man’s voice. Mike the mechanic was smiling at them from the pavement. Fresh oil streaks almost hid his acne.
“Depends how you view Birmingham,” said Tarian.
He gestured at Cassie’s car. “Last time she was there, I had to hammer the dents out of the boot and fit her a new bumper. Not that I’d mind more work. Business is pretty slack.”
“Those were exceptional circumstances,” said Cassie, sounding slightly peeved. “Birmingham’s really nice in parts, Mike. Anyway, we’re only going for a little while. To sort out my flat.”
“And meet her parents,” added Tarian.
He threw Tarian a sympathetic glance. “Good luck with that.” He lifted his hand in farewell and set off back down the hill. She watched him go, becoming aware of Cassie’s quizzical gaze.
“You aren’t worried about meeting them, are you?”
Tarian shrugged. Nothing should be able to daunt a former champion of the Queen of the Fae, yet she had to admit she was feeling a little apprehensive. “What if they dislike me?”
“Too bad. It’ll make no difference to how I feel about you,” said Cassie.
That remark deserved a kiss, so Tarian gave it to her. “I could always put a spell on them.”
Cassie’s eyes widened. “Don’t you dare.”
“Just joking,” said Tarian, though she hadn’t been. Oh well. She released Cassie. I’ll just have to charm them the hard way. “Ready to go?”
Cassie nodded and opened the car’s back door. “In,” she told the dogs.
They got to their feet, yawned, stretched their backs and back legs, and padded over, taking their time about it. Tarian sent them a mental command to hurry up. Cassie had placed a car rug over the back seat to keep off the worst of the muddy paw prints and dog hairs, and the dogs sprawled on it quite happily.
“I’ll close up the house and be right with you,” said Tarian.
It took her only a few minutes to use the bathroom and check that the back door was bolted and the curtains in her studio were drawn, the lights off, and the embers in the Aga and the sitting room hearth out. She pulled on her well-worn leather jacket, tugged the front door closed behind her, activated the wards she had prepared earlier, and walked towards the car.
“Should we have asked someone to keep an eye on the house?” asked Cassie, as Tarian got in and shoved back the passenger seat as far as it would go.
“No need. Anyone who tries to break in will be overwhelmed by a sudden compulsion to go home. Why don’t these things come with more leg room?”
“It fits me,” said Cassie. “If you want a car that fits you, you should buy one.”
“And have it sit idle outside the house all day?”
“It goes without saying that you’d have to learn to drive.”
Tarian did up her seat belt. “Give me a warhorse any day.”
“You could get a motorbike and be a biker chick.” Green eyes looked off into space. “Actually, that’s not a bad idea.”
Her lustful expression amused Tarian. “I don’t think so.”
Cassie came back to herself. “It was just a thought. Ready?”
Tarian nodded, and Cassie started the engine and released the handbrake.
They had gone ten yards down the hill when she glanced at Tarian. “It’s really nice of you to come with me. Especially as I don’t need your protection from Armitage anymore.”
The police had told Cassie that he was no longer a threat. To her or anyone else. He was in a coma in Winson Green’s medical wing, and it looked like he would never wake up. Tarian felt a sense of grim satisfaction. The bespelled painting I sent him must have done the trick.
“It’s no fun moving house on your own,” she said.
“True. But I know you don’t like towns and cities much.” Cassie slowed to let the Reverend Wright cross the road before picking up speed once more. “You’re just a little old country girl at heart.”
Tarian arched an eyebrow. “It’s more than that. The Fae live in harmony with Nature. We draw energy from oak and ash, river and sky.”
“Why didn’t you tell me this before?” Cassie threw her a concerned look. “Are you going to be all right?”
“It won’t kill me, and it’s only for a week.”
They drove past the little B & B where Tarian, and Cassie in her turn, had stayed when they first came to Bourn’s Edge.
“There are plenty of parks in Birmingham,” said Cassie. “Maybe you could visit one, recharge your batteries.”
“It would need to be natural, ancient. Like Bourn Forest not some ornamental garden built by the Council in the 1960s.” Tarian twisted round to check on the dogs. They had thrust their heads out the half-open window and were enjoying the breeze. She faced front again and saw that Cassie’s expression had become triumphant.
“Would a park that’s been around since the ninth century do?”
“Perfect.”
“Ha!” Cassie drummed her fingers on the steering wheel. “Sutton Park dates from then, and my parents live right next door. We’ll go there before we visit them tomorrow.”
CASSIE UNLOCKED THE door to her flat and opened it. Or rather tried to. A pile of free newspapers, circulars, letters, and bills had built up behind it while she was away. She leaned her hip against it and forced her way inside.
The curtains were still drawn, and it smelled stuffy. Even though her neighbour had taken Murphy next door in preference to having to pop round constantly to feed him, there was a musky whiff of tomcat about the place.
She opened a window, but the roar of traffic and stink of fumes made her close it again. She had grown used to the peace, tranquillity, and forest-scented air of Bourn’s Edge.
Hands on hips, she surveyed her surroundings. The place felt smaller than she remembered. And though it had been her base of operations for three years it no longer felt like home. Which was just as well, as it wouldn’t be hers for much longer.
It was strange being back here again and in such altered circumstances. Last time, she’d been on the edge of panic, making arrangements for Murphy, contacting friends and family to say she’d be out of town for a few days, gathering together the things she might need and shoving them into a travel bag before running for her life. It astounded her how much her life had changed in a mere six weeks.
She straightened a sofa cushion and wondered what Tarian would make of the flat. Tarian had carried the luggage up from the car, then disappeared with the dogs for a much needed leg stretch. She was walking around the block, so she’d be back soon. In the meantime . . .
Cassie lugged the cases inside and closed the door. She stacked the presents on a table, dumped the overnight bags in the cramped bedroom, and viewed the double bed that had once felt too large and lonely with new eyes. Who would have believed it? I have a gorgeous girlfriend and a sex life. Then she grabbed the present with Rosemary’s name on it and went next door.
“You’re back!” Her neighbour blinked at her in pleased surprise. “Oh you didn’t need to.” But she accepted the large box of her favourite milk chocolates readily enough and stepped back. “Come in.”
“Of course I needed to, Rosemary,” said Cassie. “You saved my bacon, looking after Murphy at such short notice. I hope he hasn’t been too much trouble?”
To her relief, Rosemary
shook her head. “Though it took him a few days to settle in.”
As they talked, Cassie was scanning the flat for signs of the tomcat. Movement attracted her attention—a ginger head ducking back under the sofa. Murphy wasn’t as glad to see his owner as Rosemary was. She couldn’t blame him. After deserting him, she couldn’t expect to be in his good books.
“I spy a familiar face.” She crossed to the sofa and knelt in front of it, hand extended. “Here, Murphy,” she crooned. “Mummy’s here to collect you.” A faint miaow greeted her but he stayed put.
After five minutes of increasing frustration, Rosemary knelt next to her. “Perhaps if I . . .”
“Please do,” said Cassie crossly.
She watched as without effort Rosemary coaxed Murphy out of hiding and scooped him up in her arms. “There’s a good boy. Ooh. Yes you are. Oochie coochie coo.” Affection softened her usually severe features. Rosemary worked for the Civil Service. In what capacity, Cassie had never been sure but she suspected it involved cowing members of the public. Certainly Rosemary’s manner could be off-putting, and it had taken some time before the two neighbours had become friends.
“There, there,” continued Rosemary. “You’ve had a nice little holiday, haven’t you, Murphy? We enjoyed ourselves.” Cassie tried not to roll her eyes at the gushing tone. “But now, it’s time to go back to your mistress. Oh yes it is.” Rosemary turned to Cassie and held out the tomcat. At once, Murphy began to squirm and wail.
Cassie grimaced. “Why all this fuss?” He gave her reaching hands a baleful stare. “Oh, don’t be like that. You know very well who I am.” His tail lashed. “Don’t be such a—Ow!”
“Are you all right?” asked Rosemary, shocked.
Cassie sucked her scratched hand and scowled. “At least he didn’t bite me. Stupid cat. Let’s try that again, shall we?”
Rather gingerly, Rosemary held him out once more. But this time the transfer went without a hitch, and having got the mindless act of violence out of his system, Murphy even began to purr in Cassie’s arms.
She rubbed him under his chin, the way he liked it. “How much do I owe you?”
Rosemary produced a dauntingly long list. “He wouldn’t eat the cheaper brands of cat food, I’m afraid. And I had to take him to the vet for an infected scratch.”
Cassie looked at the grand total and winced. “Will you take a cheque?”
Rosemary nodded.
“Great. I’ll pop it round later, if that’s all right.”
“Fine.”
She carried Murphy towards the front door, then paused. “By the way, I should warn you, I’ve given notice on the flat. I’ll be leaving by the end of the week.”
Her neighbour’s face fell. “Oh! I’m sorry to hear that, Cassie. I’ll miss you. You never know what new tenants are going to be like, whether they’re going to make your life a misery.”
“I know. Sorry.”
Rosemary shrugged. “Where are you off to?”
“Have you heard of Bourn’s Edge? Near Ludlow?”
Rosemary shook her head.
“I’m moving in with a friend. Her name’s Tarian. You might see her around during the next couple of days. She’s helping me pack.” Cassie paused as a thought struck her. “She’s got her two dogs with her. They’re wolfhounds, but they look far fiercer than they are. If you could grin and bear any disturbance for now, I’d be very grateful. They’ll be gone by the end of the week. Promise.”
Rosemary looked apprehensive but said gamely, “Thanks for the warning.”
Murphy was threatening to break free, so Cassie took a firmer grip. “I’d better go. He’s getting restless. Thanks again for looking after him, Rosemary. I’ll pop that cheque through your letterbox.”
Chapter 2
Tarian took the stairs two at a time, Drysi and Anwar keeping pace. As she strode along the landing towards Cassie’s flat, she noticed that the bags had disappeared from outside the front door. The door handle turned under her hand, and she pushed it open and walked through, almost stumbling as the dogs streaked past her.
Something small and ginger let out a terrified wail, zipped off the sofa, and vanished through a doorway on the other side of the room. The dogs followed, hard on its heels.
“What the—?” Cassie got up from the sofa and dashed after them.
“Stop it, you two,” Tarian heard her shouting above the frenzied barking. From its slightly echoey quality, it was coming from a bathroom. “Leave Murphy alone.”
“Drysi, Anwar, heel!” she yelled. Seconds later, the dogs were standing beside her, ears flat, tails down. Drysi rubbed her cheek against Tarian’s thigh, her eyes mournful. Anwar did the same on the other side.
“Bad dogs,” said Tarian. “What were you chasing?” The image of a ginger cat, its bristling fur making it look twice its natural size, popped into her head.
Cassie re-emerged, the same cat cradled in her arms. “How could they? I’d just got him settled in.”
“Sorry.” Tarian took off her jacket and hung it from the row of hooks that had Cassie’s suede jacket hanging on it. “It’s instinct. They won’t do it again.”
She gave the dogs a stern look, and they dipped their heads in submission. As she joined Cassie, Murphy hissed at her from the shelter of Cassie’s arms. “I don’t think he likes Fae. Or maybe it’s just me.”
“Can you blame him? He’s just been scared half to death.”
Tarian arched an eyebrow at the heated tone. “I said I’m sorry.”
Cassie bit her lip and sank onto the sofa. “Me too. I shouldn’t take it out on you.” She sounded subdued. “I’m just feeling guilty. It doesn’t seem fair to send him to the animal shelter. It’s not his fault.”
Tarian sat next to her and draped a companionable arm round her shoulders. It brought her closer to Murphy, who glared at her and stretched out a paw, claws extended.
“Ah ah.” She raised a finger in warning.
After a pause, he retracted the paw and began to wash himself. But constant peeks in her direction undermined his air of nonchalance.
An amused gurgle escaped Cassie. “Well I never! He knows he’s met his match.” She placed the tomcat on the floor.
The washing continued, with alternating glances at Tarian and the dogs, now settled under the table, eyes closed, affecting indifference. A status quo of sorts had been reached.
Tarian relaxed and gave the slender shoulder under her arm a squeeze. “Maybe your neighbour could take him off your hands.”
“Rosemary? Six weeks of looking after him is probably enough.” Cassie’s brow creased. “Oh Lord! I bet she’s wondering what all the barking was. Good job I warned her. I could always try Louise, I suppose.”
“The friend whose birthday you missed?”
“Mm. Louise likes cats but she hasn’t got around to buying one yet. And she has a house and a garden, so he could go outside. I’ve always felt guilty about keeping Murphy indoors, but the traffic around here is so bad. Can’t remember how her husband feels about cats though.” Cassie drummed her fingers on the arm of the sofa and eyed the phone on the coffee table. After a moment, her forehead smoothed. “I’ll ring her. Murphy could be a belated birthday gift.”
Cassie dialled a number from memory. “Hello, Lou? Yes, I just got back. I missed you too. Sorry about your birthday. Listen.” Her voice became a wheedle. “I’ve got a big favour to ask. No I don’t want to borrow that dress. Or your handbag. If I can just get a word in edgeways. Look, you like Murphy, don’t you? I thought so. Well, I have this teensy weensy problem. My girlfriend has these dogs, you see, and—What? Of course I mean Tarian. Who else would I—?” She rolled her eyes. “It’s not like I’ve got girlfriends coming out of my ears, Lou. Yes she’s here and giving me very strange looks. Of course you can meet her, just don’t show her any incriminating photos. Um, what was I talking about? Oh yes: Murphy. I was wondering—Does he eat what?”
She gave Tarian a bewildered glance. “What do b
luebottles have to do with it? Yuck! No, he doesn’t eat flies. Does that mean you won’t take him? Of course he’s been ‘done.’” She crossed her fingers before adding, “He’ll eat pretty much anything. You will? You’re sure Sam won’t mind?” Her face became wreathed with smiles and she gave Tarian a thumbs up. “Brilliant. Um, how about ten tomorrow morning? You can meet Tarian then too. Great. See you. Bye.” She put down the receiver with a satisfied grin. “Sorted.”
“What was all that about bluebottles?” asked Tarian.
“That was odd. Louise says their house is suffering from a fly infestation. No sooner does Pest Control succeed in wiping out one lot than another lot arrives. They don’t know where they’re coming from or how to put a stop to it. It’s driving her and Sam nuts.”
“And we’re going there tomorrow?” Tarian grimaced.
Cassie gave her arm a playful slap. “We should be safe for a few hours. By the way, Louise says she can’t wait to meet you.”
“I can imagine.”
A SONG THRUSH added its loud, clear notes to the rustle of oak leaves and the crunching of acorns, and for the first time that day, the pigboy’s shoulders relaxed. He’d spend all his time in the wood, if he had his way. The pigs didn’t pick on him because he was different or give him the most disgusting tasks to do.
He made himself comfortable on his tree stump, rested the willow switch on his knees, and found a suitable twig to chew.
At first, the pigs jostled and trod on each other as they rooted for acorns, but contented snuffles and snorts soon replaced the squeals and indignant grunts. Disputes among the herd never lasted long. They were family, something he had never known himself.
His thoughts turned inwards, and he dreamed of a world where his carrot-coloured hair and lack of height didn’t count against him. Where he was comely and graceful, and could work magic like everyone else. Where he had a name, friends, and family, slept in the great hall and ate the same food as the other servants.
When the pigboy came back to himself, the sun had moved in the sky, and the pigs, having gorged themselves, had lain down for a nap. He gauged how much time had passed, then straightened his tunic and scrambled to his feet. It was later than he had intended. They would be wondering where he had got to.
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