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“Are you married?” Lucian asked.
“Yes, how’s that related to anything?”
“Your woman will return to you. What will ensure Maggie comes home to me? There’s no ring on her finger!”
“Fool!” Nicholas exclaimed. “You got played. Maggie loves you. She’s doing this for you! Maggie would have returned if you put your foot down.”
“Yeah, but doing so would make her remember that and, therefore, might force her to refuse my offer of marriage. Not risking that chance. When we’re married, then I’ll lay down the law,” Lucian said. Both Nicholas and Lucian jumped as Katherine slapped them around the back of their heads. “Or maybe not,” Lucian amended ruefully.
Maggie
“Do you have any idea where this house is?” Melisandre asked, looking at the thick forest of trees in front of them.
“Not a clue, but I’m hoping this will lead us to it!” Maggie added, holding up the opal. Lucian would have put his foot down if he’d known she’d smuggled it out.
“I don’t like that thing,” Melisandre said with a baleful gaze.
“Me either, but it’s all we got.” Maggie moved it around, and a faint glow lit a passage. “Did you bring chalk, Melisandre?”
“Yes, but why?”
“We’re not going to be following a path, although I think one existed many years ago. We need to mark the trees so we don’t get lost.”
“Good idea Maggie, let’s go!” Melisandre said and chased after Maggie as they picked their way through the undergrowth. Maggie felt like they must have walked for an hour before she spotted something in the forest.
“There, is that a chimney?”
“Yes, I think it is,” Melisandre commented as the opal glowed brighter.
“I feel like we’re being watched,” Maggie admitted as they moved closer. They broke through the trees and discovered a small clearing. A stone cottage sat in the middle with a broken wooden fence. The slats were missing in some places and sagging in others. Remains of paths could be seen through the overgrown gardens. Maggie sniffed and looked at Melisandre.
“She was growing herbs. I can smell mint and sage,” Maggie said.
“They’ve gone crazy,” Melisandre agreed, her keen eyes picking out the details of the beds. Maggie turned her attention to the cottage. The roof was thatched and sagged in the middle. It was a two-storey building with small windows and a chimney at one end. Moss and ivy grew wild around it, and Maggie barely held back a shudder.
To their surprise, the frames still had glass, although they couldn’t see through them. The door leant to one side but remained attached. There was an aura of profound neglect and dampness mixed with feelings of danger, evil, and pure terror.
“We need to go inside,” Maggie whispered as she grasped the opal, and it glowed brighter.
“The walls are sturdy, but Ido notwant to enter,” Melisandre murmured. Both women exchanged glances before Maggie pushed through the gate and leapt back as it fell over.
“You getting the horror movie feeling?” Melisandre asked, eyeing the cottage.
“Definitely, but I will not admit Lucian was correct, and we shouldn’t have come. The opal is glowing brighter, so there is something here,” Maggie replied, jutting her jaw out. She put one foot on the path, and the sense of foreboding got worse. If she didn’t do this, Margery couldn’t be stopped. With that thought in mind, Maggie stormed down the trail and shoved hard on the door. It fell backwards with a clatter, and Maggie shrieked.
“Did we bring a torch?” Maggie asked, feeling stupid. Melisandre tapped her shoulder and passed one over.
“You were in the girl guides,” Maggie muttered, and Melisandre laughed nervously. Maggie entered the cottage and shone the light around. There wasn’t much left. Two chairs, one of which was damaged, and a broken table collapsed onto two legs. A pot hung over the fireplace, and the left-hand side held creaky stairs. The back wall had three cupboards, one with a door open showing a couple of plates and cups. Wooden flooring was covered in dust and filth.
The opal remained weak, and Maggie pointed it to the stairs, where the glow deepened. Maggie and Melisandre swapped glances before heading to the crumbling staircase.
“Be careful. Test each step before putting your weight on them,” Melisandre warned. Maggie went first, gingerly testing each step as Melisandre had told her to before finding herself at the upper level. The smell of rotting dampness was worse up here as they were close to the thatch. There was a bed and a small closet containing rags of clothing, a broken dresser and nothing else. Maggie and Melisandre carefully checked the collapsing furniture but discovered zilch.
“Move the opal, Maggie; play hot or cold,” Melisandre suggested. Five minutes later, Maggie was regarding a section of the mouldering thatch in disgust. The opal’s light peeked every time it came near. Swapping a resigned look with Melisandre, Maggie reached up, her face screwed up in distaste, and rummaged around. Her fingers caught on something, and Maggie pulled it out.
“What’s that?” Melisandre inquired, peering at the item. It was a thinly carved hexagon with a sharpened end.
“No idea, but let’s leave Melisandre. This place is giving me the creeps. And I need to wash!” Maggie led the way back downstairs, and Melisandre pointed to a rusty pump. It took a few minutes, but they finally got clear running water, and Maggie washed her arm and then the item she’d discovered.
