Chapter 4

Chapter

Four

I stared slack-jawed at the envelope. Yet another distracting wave of light-headedness assailed me; I shook my head with annoyance and tried to focus.

‘What does it mean, Daisy?’ Otis asked.

Hester stretched out a hand to touch the envelope then thought better of it and pulled back. ‘Who is it from?’

‘I don’t know. I don’t recognise the handwriting.’ I continued to look at it as if I were watching a bomb. The only way to defuse this explosive would be to pick up the envelope, open it and read the contents. I slowly returned Gladys to her sheath.

‘Do it,’ Hester whispered. ‘Open the envelope.’

For once Otis agreed. ‘You have to.’

I gazed at it for another moment. This was ridiculous: there was no reason to be afraid of a letter – unless it was a gas bill catching up with me from my little flat in Edinburgh. I allowed myself a tiny smile at the thought, then yielded to the inevitable, scooped up the envelope and ripped it open.

I removed the single sheet of paper and marched towards the unshuttered window where I could read it properly. The brownies came with me, flying so close to my face that I felt the tips of their wings brushing against my cheeks.

‘Read it aloud,’ Otis urged.

I swallowed and unfolded the paper.

‘ Dearest Daisy ,’ I read. ‘ I am certain that you will be surprised to receive this missive. I sincerely hope that you will carefully consider its contents. From what I already know of you, I am sure that you will give it your appropriate attention, regardless of whatever inane comments those two irritating brownies by your side may be making.’

Hester gasped. ‘How insulting!’

Otis hushed her and I continued.

‘ The tragedy of Lady Rose Assigney is immense. She was a wonderful person who displayed great maturity despite her youth. She possessed excellent mastery of the magical elements and had an aptitude for water magic that was uncommon even amongst her supposedly talented peers. More than that, she was a warm, trusting young woman. Her heart was too easily led astray and her head did not lend itself to logic, but her faults were outweighed by her virtues. She was a braver woman than I realised. Rose was only ever a high elf, but she had the potential to be much, much more.’

It was Otis’s turn to interrupt. ‘That doesn’t make sense,’ he said. ‘How could she be more than a high elf?’

‘Shh! Let Daisy finish!’ Hester snapped.

‘ The mystery of her disappearance deserves your full attention. I know you will be disinclined to do what I say because that is always the way with children and their parents. However, I urge you to investigate what happened to Rosie because the rewards will far outweigh the risks. I can assure you, my dear Daisy, that you can trust me in this. ’

I paused. ‘With great love, A.’

‘ A ?’ Hester asked.

My shoulders sagged and nausea rose unbidden in the pit of my belly. ‘Athair.’ My fiendish alleged birth father had written this and left it here for me to find. And now I had even more questions than before.

I didn’t run back to Pemberville Castle – I didn’t even jog; I walked slowly, my arms hanging heavily by my sides as my mind turned over and over. For once both brownies were sensitive to my mood and lapsed into silence.

My limbs were aching, my fatigue persisted and my various minor wounds from my training sessions were pulsating with pain, but none of those were bothering me. I had far more important things to worry about.

It was noon by the time I emerged from the woods on Hugo’s side of the boundary wall. The sun was high and any lingering morning mist had long since dissipated. I gazed towards the familiar turrets of Pemberville Castle and spotted Hugo’s battered Jeep parked close to the old moat bridge, next to another car. He had returned, but I couldn’t decide whether that was a good thing or not. I could have done with some more time alone before I spoke to him and revealed what I’d discovered.

Fuck it. I sighed, reached into my pocket and extracted two spider’s silk pills. When the muted buzz they provided disappointed me, I swallowed a third one – and I didn’t let myself feel guilty about it. Not even when my ears rang with the buzz of drug-induced tinnitus and my heart rate fluttered worryingly. I told myself that, given the circumstances, I was holding together admirably.

I pushed away the temptation to delay and trudged the rest of the way to the castle entrance. I didn’t even manage to get close to the front gate, though; Duchess was already on full alert.

She bounded out from beneath the bridge, planted her massive bare feet on the cobblestones, placed her hands on her hips and fixed me with a narrow glare. ‘Password,’ she demanded.

I wasn’t in the mood for her troll games. ‘Is this necessary? You know who I am, Duchess. In fact, you’re living here because of me. Just let me pass.’

She gave a wide-mouthed cackle. ‘Well, somebody is in a bad mood this morning. What’s wrong, girlie? Is the sexual frustration getting to you? You should let Lord Snoot Face shag you and be done with it.’

‘Lord Snoot Face?’

Duchess raised her massive shoulders in a shrug. ‘If the shoe fits…’

I sighed. Hester giggled. ‘I like it! What’s my nickname?’ she asked.

‘Grumpy Goth,’ Duchess answered without missing a beat. She pointed at Otis. ‘And Goody Two Shoes.’

I didn’t bother to ask what my nickname was but started forward, planning to push past Duchess whether she covered me in troll snot or not.

‘Oi! Password first!’ she yelled.

I gritted my teeth. ‘I don’t know the cumbubbling password, Duchess.’

I moved to my left; she matched me. I moved to my right; she did the same.

‘If you don’t have the password, you’ll have to cross my palm with silver.’

‘I don’t have any money on me.’

She pursed her thin lips. ‘Give me the sword, then. That’s a fair exchange. ’

I most definitely was not going to do that.

The massive door on the other side of the bridge opened and Hugo appeared. He was wearing black trousers and a white shirt, with the top two buttons undone. There was barely a scrap of his chest on display, but it was still incredibly hard not to gawk at it lasciviously. ‘Daisy,’ he greeted me. ‘Where have you been? I’ve been looking all over for you.’

There was no easy way to answer that. ‘It’s a long story.’

He frowned and looked at me more closely. Clearly, my expression betrayed me. ‘What’s happened?’

‘Hey!’ Duchess stamped her foot. ‘Password first. Chit-chat later!’

Hugo ran a frustrated hand through his tawny hair and raised his eyes heavenward. ‘Duchess is the best troll an elf could wish for,’ he said. She didn’t move. Hugo’s mouth tightened. ‘She is truly wonderful and she deserves the best.’

‘The very best,’ Duchess said. ‘Say it.’

‘The very best,’ Hugo repeated dutifully.

‘You could sound as if you meant it,’ she muttered. She pointed at me. ‘Now you.’

‘Don’t do it, Daisy,’ Hester whispered.

I didn’t have much choice. ‘Duchess is the best troll an elf could wish for. She is truly wonderful and she deserves the very best.’

She beamed. ‘See? You did know the password after all.’ She stepped aside, sweeping out one of her long, heavy arms to indicate that I could cross. ‘On you go, Fated Flea.’

Fated Flea?

Duchess giggled girlishly at my expression. ‘Caught in the spider’s web, aren’t you, girlie? And doomed as a result.’

Hugo scowled and prepared to snap at her but I shook my head at him in warning. Duchess wanted a reaction, and this wasn’t the time to indulge her. Besides, she wasn’t wrong: Fated Flea was as good a nickname for me as any.

I scooted past her. ‘We need to have a conversation,’ I said to Hugo, doing my best not to sound too ominous.

He nodded, his mouth still in a tight, flat line. ‘Yes, Daisy,’ he said. ‘We do.’ He pointed towards the garden room. ‘Sir Nigel is here to see you.’

I dropped my hand into my pocket where Athair’s letter was burning the proverbial hole. I knew why I was feeling tense, but I didn’t know why Hugo appeared to be on a cliff edge of his own.

‘Okay,’ I said, massaging the back of my neck and trying not to look nervous. Or nauseous. ‘Lead the way.’

Regardless of how Hugo and I were feeling, Sir Nigel was having a whale of a time. He’d settled into a comfortable old wicker chair and was sipping a cup of strong tea while Becky foisted a plate of small cakes upon him. ‘They’re very good,’ the youngest member of Hugo’s Primes insisted. ‘Especially the lemon ones.’

Hester zipped through the air towards him. ‘Don’t eat the chocolate brownies!’ she yelled. ‘They’re awful!’

Sir Nigel lifted his head and blinked.

‘Ignore her. They’re delicious,’ I told him. ‘Hester wants to keep them all for herself.’ It was true: she’d been stockpiling the damned things under my bed. I smiled at Sir Nigel. ‘It’s good to see you again. Thank you for coming.’

He placed his teacup on a small table, stood up and extended his hand. ‘It’s the least I could do after missing the party last night, Daisy. I was waiting for the last of my contacts to get in touch. I wanted to have as much information as possible before I spoke to you.’

I shook his hand then sat opposite him when he resumed his seat. ‘That sounds as if you actually have information for me.’

His expression grew more serious. ‘I do.’

I reminded myself that lunging forward to grab him by the lapels and shake the information out of him was not the behaviour of civilised elves. I took the cup of tea that Becky was pushing in my direction and waited with as much patience as I could muster.

‘We can leave you in private to hear this,’ Hugo said. ‘If you want.’

‘No. I’d like you to stay,’ I replied.

I didn’t miss the answering flash of happiness in his blue eyes as he nodded and pulled up another chair. Becky shot me a questioning look, then did the same.

‘As you know,’ Sir Nigel said, ‘I’ve been in touch with numerous fiend experts both in this country and abroad. There are three known cases where fiends have sired children.’

Behind me, Otis sucked in a breath. I remained very, very still as I said, ‘So it is physically possible that Athair is my birth father.’

Sir Nigel didn’t mince his words. ‘Yes.’

‘And those children?’ I asked. ‘What happened to them? What did they … become?’

‘Their circumstances were different to yours.’

I met his eyes. ‘That’s not what I asked.’

He sighed. ‘I know.’ His waxed moustache quivered. ‘None of them are alive today, not in this realm anyway. The first one, a girl called Zitinillia, died when she was thirteen years old. It appears that the onset of puberty, combined with the unexpected force of her magic, caused her death. ’

Bile rose in my mouth. ‘I burned my house down at a similar age,’ I whispered. ‘I could have easily killed myself and my adoptive parents.’

Unbidden, Hugo’s hand reached out and he entwined his fingers with mine. The unsettling cold that had been leeching into my bones at Sir Nigel’s words started to dissipate. I smiled briefly at him to show that his touch was very welcome. His gaze was soft. He had my back; despite everything, he would stand beside me. Knowing that I wasn’t alone meant more than I could put into words.

‘Thank heavens for spider’s silk,’ he murmured in a lighter tone than he probably meant.

‘I bet you never thought you’d say that six months ago,’ I replied.

A ghost of a smile crossed his face. ‘You can say that again.’

‘I bet you never thought you’d?—’

Hugo squeezed my fingers tighter and I stopped, but the flicker of levity had eased the tense atmosphere. Sir Nigel’s moustache stopped trembling and Becky’s shoulders relaxed as she leaned back in her chair. ‘And the other two children?’ she asked.

‘One was called Fravock,’ Sir Nigel said. ‘He was born in the early twentieth century and died just before the Second World War.’

‘He also died quite young, then,’ I surmised.

‘Yes.’

I nodded distractedly and plucked at an invisible thread. ‘Did he…? Was he…? I mean did Fravock…?’

Fortunately, Sir Nigel understood what I was trying to ask. ‘We don’t believe he was a fiend. As an adult, he passed for a normal human. He was married, worked as a solicitor before he was killed, and had no children.’

‘But he didn’t die naturally? ’

Sir Nigel’s eyes slid away. ‘Reports at the time suggest he was murdered by Athair.’

My ears started ringing with an ominous whine. ‘My father was taking out potential future competition.’

Hugo’s voice was dark. ‘ Alleged father.’

‘We can’t know what Athair’s motives were,’ Sir Nigel said.

Yeah, yeah. ‘And the third one?’

‘His name was Meranz.’

I grunted. ‘Weird name.’

Becky agreed. ‘They’re all weird names.’

Hester landed on my shoulder. ‘Daisy isn’t a weird name.’

Sir Nigel nodded. ‘I did say that their circumstances were different to yours, Daisy. All three of those children were raised by the fiends who brought them into this world.’

‘Nature versus nurture,’ Hugo said.

I chose not to pass comment on that for now. ‘What happened to Meranz?’

Sir Nigel’s voice was very quiet. ‘He was born in 1763. Meranz became what we would classify as a fiend.’

I half-closed my eyes. Okay, then. Okay. ‘He’s definitely not around any longer?’ For the most part, fiends were immortal; I supposed that was part of the allure of becoming one in the first place.

‘Meranz was magically banished by a trio of witches in 1875.’

My shoulders sagged. ‘Because a fiend can only be banished to another demesne by skilled witches or be killed by another fiend.’

‘Or be killed by the child of a fiend,’ Otis burst out. ‘Like the way you killed that fiend Baltar in the dragon’s cave. You’re not a fiend, Daisy. And you never will be.’

‘But if you do end up becoming a fiend,’ Hester added, ‘you’ ll be the bestest, baddest fiend that the world has ever seen.’

Becky looked horrified, though Hugo nodded and appeared to be mildly amused. ‘She’s not wrong.’

I rolled my eyes but I did find myself sitting a little straighter. ‘The fiends who sired all three,’ I said. ‘What about them?’

‘Zitinillia’s parents were fiends – it’s the only time in history that there’s a record of a married couple who were both fiends. They have since been banished. As for Meranz and Fravock, it was their fathers who were fiends. We believe that Meranz’s mother was a human who was killed shortly after his birth. Fravock’s mother was reportedly a human sorcerer. There’s no information about what happened to her.’

Sir Nigel paused. ‘I haven’t found any information about who your birth mother might have been, Daisy. I am sorry.’

Hmm. ‘So in effect,’ I said, aware that the whole group was watching me with worried eyes, ‘we still don’t know anything. Athair might be my dad but he might not be. My birth mother could have been anyone. I might end up turning into a fiend or I might not. Nothing we’ve learned has changed anything.’

Sir Nigel cleared his throat. ‘I must say, you’re taking this better than I expected.’

What else could I do? I’d had six weeks to get used to the idea that I might have fiendish blood, and I wasn’t the wallowing type. ‘We still don’t have any actual answers.’

Next to me, Hugo drew in a breath. ‘I might.’ He released my hand and reached into his pocket.

‘If you have an envelope in that pocket with my name on it,’ I said, ‘I will sprint out of here and never return.’

He gave me a quizzical look. ‘Eh?’

‘Never mind. Go on, then. What do you have? ’

He pulled out a small glass vial and held it up. ‘This is the reason why I was out this morning. I was retrieving this.’

Inside the vial was a withered brown thing; if I squinted, it looked oddly familiar. ‘Is that … is that … is that a severed finger?’

Hugo grinned. ‘Yes, it is. Specifically, the severed finger of a bastard fiend called Athair.’

Otis squeaked, ‘But when we saw him, he had all his fingers!’

‘Fiends can re-grow their limbs,’ I said, still staring at what was inside the vial. It was genuinely disgusting. ‘Are you certain it was Athair’s?’

‘As certain as I can be. He lost his finger in a fight with a group of witches about sixty years ago. They tried to banish him, but obviously they failed. All but one of them died in the process, but they did manage to slice off this while they were defending themselves. The surviving witch stated categorically that this digit belonged to Athair. It’s been kept in safe storage ever since. I had to pull in a lot of favours to get hold of it but,’ Hugo gave me a long look, ‘I reckon it’ll be worth it.’

I knew exactly why. I reached up and plucked a single strand of my hair, making sure to pull it out at the root. ‘Will that be enough for a DNA comparison?’

‘It should be. It’ll take a few weeks to get the results, but then we’ll know the truth.’ He hesitated. ‘If you want to know, that is.’

‘We’re already too far down the rabbit hole to pull out now,’ I said. ‘I can’t forget about all this. Athair is still out there – and he won’t forget about me, either.’

It was my turn to reach into my pocket. ‘I’ve got something to show you, too.’ I slid out the envelope and took a deep breath, hoping that my hands weren’t shaking too obviously. ‘You’re not going to like this.’