Chapter One
It’s one thing declaring to the world that you’re a treasure hunter but it’s something else being
one, especially when you possess few connections, little experience and limited resources.
Dogged determination and a LinkedIn profile were all well and good, but I was becoming
the living embodiment of Catch-22. I couldn’t get any decent treasure hunting commissions until
I successfully found some treasure – and I couldn’t successfully find any treasure until I had
some commissions. That’s not to say that I hadn’t found work; it just wasn’t the kind of work I’d
envisaged when I’d started down this path a few months earlier.
‘The tide will be coming in soon,’ Otis informed me, buzzing in my left ear.
Hester flicked the lobe of my right ear. ‘It’s also starting to rain.’ Her tone was disgruntled.
‘And it’s not the sort of refreshing rain that makes you glad to be alive. It’s the sort of Scottish
December rain that is grey and icy and seeps not only under your collar and into your bones, but
also into your soul to make you wish you’d never been born.’
‘It’s only rain,’ I muttered. I scuffed the sand at my feet, telling myself that I was having
fun. I’d found a lot of broken shells, pretty sea glass and bits of rubbish, but I hadn’t found Trish
York’s wedding ring.
‘That’s easy for you to say. Some of those raindrops are the size of my head,’ she
complained.
I crouched down and turned over a seaweed-covered rock to check underneath it. ‘You can
stay in my pocket. You’ll be dry there.’
‘Dry,’ Hester argued, ‘but musty and smelly. When was the last time you washed this
coat?’
Otis sighed. ‘Stop being rude, Hes.’
‘I’m not being rude, I’m being truthful. Are you trying to tell me that you don’t think
Daisy’s pocket smells like the rotting intestines of a rat’s corpse?’
He didn’t answer his sister, suggesting that her description was wholly accurate. Instead,
he addressed me. ‘I don’t think you’re going to find Mrs York’s ring, Daisy. It’s probably
already been swallowed up by the sea. You’ve tried earth magic. You’ve tried a metal detector.
You’ve walked up and down this beach eighty-four times. The ring is gone.’
‘This isn’t proper treasure hunting,’ Hester added. ‘It’s lost and found. Where’s the glory?
Where’s the fun? Where are the damned dragons?’
‘Do you want to meet a dragon?’ I asked.
‘Anything would be better than this.’
The only dragons left in the British Isles were in Wales. While I thought it would be
beyond cool to meet one, I doubted Hester actually wanted to come face to face with a
curmudgeonly beast with fangs the size of a Mini Cooper. Dragons were dangerous. And they
usually stayed well out of sight. Hester was right about one thing, though: this wasn’t treasure
hunting. Not really.
I pulled my bag off my shoulder, unzipped it and rummaged inside. I didn’t need to look at
either brownie to know that their expressions would display disapproval but they knew better
than to say anything. I’d heard it all before and it wouldn’t make a difference.
I located the small bag containing my supply of spider’s silk and plucked out a pill.
Without hesitating, I tossed it into my mouth. It fizzed on my tongue, the familiar bitter taste
making my lips pucker before I swallowed it whole. Immediately my skin tingled and my
muscles tightened. I raised my chin and, ignoring the rain, made a last-ditch effort to find the
stupid ring by sending out a blast of air magic towards the damp sand.
My intention had been to blow away the top inch or so to reveal what lay underneath, but
as I pushed the magic forth I stumbled, losing both my footing and my grip on the spell. The
resulting burst of wind slammed into the beach with a deafening crash – and I was thrown
backwards by at least several metres, landing with a painful thud on my back.
‘Mmmmf!’ That had really hurt.
I struggled up to a sitting position, blinking through the cold rain at the newly formed
crater in front of me. Oops. That certainly wasn’t what I’d intended.
‘What the fuck was that about?’ Hester screeched, her tiny cheeks bright red. ‘Look at
what you did to Otis!’
I glanced around and my eyes widened in alarm when I saw him. Shit. He was some
distance away, having been turned upside down. The top half of his body was buried by sand and
only his legs were visible, kicking uselessly in the air.
I scrambled towards him to pinch his feet and pull him free. He coughed and spluttered.
His head, arms and torso were covered in soggy sand. I gently used the tip of my finger to brush
it away while Hester continued to admonish me. ‘You could have killed him!’
‘I’m fine, Hes.’ Otis coughed.
‘He could have suffocated!’
‘Honestly, it’s not a problem.’ He rubbed his eyes and blinked, trying to smile.
She didn’t listen. ‘How could you lose control like that, Daisy? He might have died!’
Guilt washed through me. She was right: it should never have happened. It had been years
since I’d allowed my magic to get the better of me like that. ‘I’m sorry, Otis,’ I whispered. ‘I’m
so sorry.’
He blinked again and shook away the last of the sand. ‘It’s fine. Honestly. And look.’ He
pointed at the sand crater. ‘Look at that.’
I followed his finger. In the very centre of the hole there was the glint of gold. I peered
more closely. Yep, that was a ring. Triumph flooded me.
‘Well done, Daisy,’ Otis wheezed. ‘You found it after all.’
Hester scowled. ‘Big deal.’
I pumped the air with my fist, strode towards the ring and scooped it up. It was a minor
success but I’d absolutely take it. ‘Come on,’ I said, grinning widely at the brownies. ‘Let’s get
out of here.’
* * *
‘We’re not going to get rich from jobs like this.’ Hester was still intent on complaining
when we finally arrived home with a very small reward from Trish York safely in my back
pocket.
‘We’ve been through this, Hester. The financial reward wasn’t why I took that job. Mrs
York was ridiculously happy to get her ring back, and if she leaves a review it’ll be more than
worth the hours spent on Longniddry beach.’
It was true. The more reviews and testimonials I garnered, the more chance I had of being
hired for a real treasure hunt by someone with a lot of money behind them. Frankly, reviews
were worth their weight in gold – no pun intended.
One day I hoped to have enough resources and access to establish my own treasure hunts,
but for now I was relying on the information and requests provided by other people. I couldn’t
afford to spend the better part of a year researching dusty archives for details of potential lost
treasure. But in the future anything was possible and, bottom rung of the ladder or not, I
wouldn’t allow myself to be anything other than optimistic about what lay ahead.
‘You should write to Sir Nigel again. He might give us some real work,’ Hester instructed
me.
‘He’s out of the country.’ I started to peel off my damp – and, yes, smelly – coat. I’d be
finding grains of sand in my clothes for weeks if not months, no matter how many times I
washed them. Sand was sneaky like that.
‘You could approach Hugo—’
I interrupted her. ‘No.’
‘But—’
‘No.’
Otis smiled nervously. ‘I think Hester is right. You could give him a call and see if—’
‘No!’
He flinched. I drew in a deep breath. ‘I’m sorry, that was harsher than I intended. We don’t
need help from the likes of Hugo Pemberville. We’re freelance. We’re not beholden to anyone
else and we’re not going to be.’
The last thing I wanted was for Hugo to know how much I was struggling in my new
career. While I appreciated every single success, no matter how minor, I was certain he’d laugh
at my meagre accomplishments. And for complex reasons I didn’t fully understand and couldn’t
articulate, I didn’t want him to see me as a failure. Besides, I hadn’t spoken to him for weeks and
our paths might never cross again – we didn’t exactly move in the same circles. ‘We can do this
ourselves.’
Otis nodded. ‘Yes, Daisy. Of course we can. You’re right.’
Hester rolled her eyes. ‘No, Daisy. We can’t. You’re wrong.’
I wet my lips. Cumbubbling bollocks. Perhaps I should listen to her.
‘Okay,’ I conceded, prepared to compromise. ‘I promise I won’t take on any more small
lost-and-found jobs for the time being. I’ve saved enough to tide us over for a few weeks, so we
won’t undertake any hunts unless both the reward and the treasure are substantial. I’ll extend my
advertising to the classifieds in at least one national newspaper, and I’ll see who else I can
contact at the British Museum for leads.’ I paused and eyed both brownies. ‘Is that good
enough?’
Otis looked relieved while Hester blew out air loudly. ‘Finally. No more selling yourself
short, Daisy. You’re a skilled treasure hunter who should be searching for extraordinary items.
From now on, we seek nothing less than a chest full of precious jewels and shiny gold,’ she said
firmly.
Chance would be a fine thing. Fortunately, for the sake of my sanity and Hester’s mood,
there was a knock at the door which prevented me suggesting there was a world of difference
between optimism and fantasy.
I kicked off my wet trainers, ignored the damp discomfort of my socks, ambled down the
corridor and opened the front door. Then I stared. Oh. While I hadn’t been expecting anyone in
particular, I certainly hadn’t anticipated the caller being a child. In my experience, people under
the age of twelve were strange and unpredictable and it was wise to avoid them whenever
possible.
‘Hi.’ I tried not stare too obviously at the girl. Her limpid brown eyes were astonishingly
large, and she was swamped by the huge puffer jacket she was wearing. I glanced beyond her for
any sign of a parent or guardian, but she appeared to be alone.
‘Are you the hunter elf lady?’ she asked with a faint, audible wobble.
There was an odd prickle on the back of my neck. ‘Yes,’ I said cautiously. ‘Who are you?’
‘Sophia.’
I gazed at her and she gazed at me. The silence stretched out for several seconds while the
prickle turned into an itch. ‘Do you need some help, Sophia?’ I asked finally.
‘I live down the street.’ She waved vaguely to the right. ‘I want to hire you. I have a job
that needs doing.’ She might be no more than four-feet high but she sounded like a Mafia boss
ordering a hit.
I smiled. ‘How old are you?’
‘Nine.’
‘Do your parents know you’re here?’
‘There’s only my dad, and no, he doesn’t know. He wouldn’t like it. He thinks you’re
weird and he told me to stay away from you.’ She delivered the information in a matter-of-fact
voice.
‘Your dad is right,’ I said cheerfully. I scratched the back of my neck with my nails. Did
brownies get fleas? Was that why I felt so itchy? ‘I am weird and you should stay away from me.
Nice to meet you though, Sophia.’ I started to close the door.
‘Wait!’
I hesitated.
‘I still want to hire you.’ She swallowed. ‘I need to hire you. I need a treasure hunter.’
Oh, man. ‘That’s very kind of you, Sophia, but I’m afraid I’m busy.’
Although she was obviously nervous, her response was instant. ‘No, you’re not. You
finished that job for Mrs York and I’ve seen your advert in the shop window down the street that
says you’ll hunt for any sort of treasure, so you can’t be that busy.’
Was this kid keeping tabs on me? I should have known that forking over a whole twenty
quid to advertise my skills in the corner-shop window would bite me in the arse sooner or later.
She held out a crumpled five-pound note. ‘I can pay you.’
‘I can’t take your money, Sophia.’ I tried to sound as gentle as possible. ‘You should go
home to your dad and ask him for help.’
Her cheeks turned scarlet. ‘Stop! Stop patro – patro– patro—’
‘Patronising you?’
Her jaw tightened. ‘Yeah. That. I want to hire you to get my treasure back. You’re a
treasure hunter.’ She glared. ‘So hunt for my treasure.’
‘What treasure is it?’
‘My doll.’
Help. I scanned the street again. It was devoid of people. ‘Um…’
‘A doll might not be treasure to you but she’s treasure to me. She’s the last present my
mum gave me before she died.’
My stomach sank to my boots. Shit. ‘Where did you last see it?’
‘In the cemetery at the end of the road.’ She crossed her arms over her chest. ‘I was
visiting Mum’s grave and I took Nancy with me,’ she stressed the name, as if she were insulted
by me calling her doll an ‘it’. ‘Nancy’s my doll. I put her down while I went to get some water
for the flowers and when I turned around, she’d gone. Somebody took her. I need to get her back
and you can help me.’
‘Um…’ I tried to think of a polite way to decline. It would have been easy if she were an
adult.
Sophia threw the balled up five-pound note at my chest. Without thinking, I grabbed it
before it tumbled to the ground and her face immediately transformed into a bright grin.
‘Brilliant! Thank you! I’m at number seventy-two. Flat four. You can knock on the door when
you’ve found Nancy. You’ll know her when you find her. She has a pink heart sewn on her
chest.’ She twisted away and marched down the street, her hair swinging in the light breeze.
Nuh-uh. No way. ‘Wait! Sophia!’
She didn’t turn around. ‘I’ll be home from school every day at four o’clock!’ she called.
‘Don’t come after six or my dad will see you.’
No sooner had the last word left her mouth than she started to run with the pelting speed
that only professional sprinters, expert shapeshifters and pre-pubescent kids could manage. I was
left clutching the grubby fiver and staring after her with the definite sensation that I’d been
completely conned by a child.
I sighed, stepped back, closed the door and headed for the kitchen where Otis and Hester
were already making a mess. ‘So,’ I hedged. ‘You remember what I said about only hunting for
substantial treasure from now on?’
A tiny frown creased Otis’s brow. ‘It was only two minutes ago. Of course we remember.’
‘You promised,’ Hester reminded me.
Not in so many words. ‘Mmm,’ I grimaced. ‘Well, about that…’ ...
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