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“Would you mind a weary guest for one night?”
“If the weary guest doesn’t mind helping me track down a missing girl.”
Her eyes brightened, as I knew they would. “We’re hunting? Why didn’t you say so?”
“She’s alive, or at least I think she is.”
Matilda didn’t bother to hide her disappointment. The hunt was more enjoyable for her when the prey was already dead. I didn’t judge her for it. The Night Mallt had once been a young woman whose beauty rivaled Helen of Troy. Hunting was her passion; accordingly, she was alleged to have told the gods she’d rather not leave this earth if there’d be no hunting in the Great Beyond. Once she reached a ripe old age, Matilda was tasked with riding with the hounds of the Wild Hunt, forever chasing lost souls to their final destinations. The legends state that Matilda regretted her choice, but I knew for a fact that wasn’t true. Matilda was never in her element more than when she was on the hunt.
“The girl’s name is Ashley Pratt,” I continued. “Her brother is searching for her and asked for my help.”
Matilda eyed me. “And you agreed?”
“I did.”
“Is he bedworthy?”
“Nobody says bedworthy, Matilda. Not now, and not in ancient times.”
“I say it, and that’s all that matters. Now stop avoiding the question.”
“I didn’t agree because he’s good looking.”
She slapped a palm flat on the table. “Aha! He is attractive.”
“No, I mean.” I took a moment to start again. “Steven Pratt is a twenty-five-year-old human male. I have no romantic interest in him. He’s fixing my computer.”
Her gaze drifted to the computer on the nearby table. “Are you certain he knows what he’s doing? He isn’t some technical charlatan?”
“I’m choosing to trust him.”
She cocked her head, studying me. “How odd. Do you have a picture of the fair missing maiden?”
I shared the photo on my phone that Steven had sent to me. Matilda examined the image. “Very pretty. Wouldn’t surprise me if a god rode off with her to make her his bride.”
“That sort of thing doesn’t happen anymore.”
“Says you.”
“I have one of her personal items. It might help the hounds to have her scent.”
Matilda wiggled her fingers in a give-it-here gesture. I handed over the bracelet; the crone brought it to her nostrils and inhaled deeply.
“She is not so innocent.”
“Does it matter?”
“No, I only meant she wouldn’t be part of a virgin sacrifice.”
“Oh, fair point.” It wasn’t as though there were many volcanoes in this region, active or otherwise. “Can you tell me anything else?”
She tossed the bracelet on the table. “I’m not a medium, Lorelei. I don’t do parlor tricks.”
I tucked the bracelet back in my pocket for safekeeping. I hoped to return it to Ashley in person one day.
“You should know, cariad, there’ve been rumors.”
“There are always rumors.”
