Page 82 of Cosy & Chill
“Not quite. We live longer than humans, but we die as everything dies and we can be killed.”
“Then your survival all these years is even more impressive.” Mr Tienfield drained his wineglass. “I love my history, and I’ve often tried to picture myself in another time period. You lived through it all.”
“Some of it. I shouldn’t, perhaps, tell ye this part, but it might explain why the hoard appeared when it did. Like I said, I searched high and low for my amulet. After a few years, I grew desperate, and tried more… unusual ways to open the veil. There’s a spell ye can use in a stone circle, but it needs strong protections and they come at a price.” She gazed into the distance. “I bartered half of my life for that protection. The spell failed, but the protection had to be paid for. Which is why I spend half of every year asleep under a rowan tree. I’m only awake for the darker half of the year.”
Leo hadn’t heard that part of Roisin’s tale before, and it held him as spellbound as the others.
“I was drawn to Richmond at the end of last year. By the spring equinox, when I had to leave to fulfil my bargain, I’d just started to explore this end of the High Street.” Roisin drew patterns on the tablecloth with the grip of her fork. “Searching for a hidden hoard is never straightforward. For a hoard to be found, its hiding place has to be occupied, but not.”
“You mean you had to wait until the owner died?” Mr Tienfield asked.
She shook her head. “It’s a complicated seeking spell that brought me here. It took years to set up, many years. I knew my amulet was in this row of houses, but I cannot enter houses when they’re empty, nor can I enter if the person living in the house is its owner. Ye see my dilemma, I’m sure. Magic isn’t,” she snapped her fingers and produced a rush of sparkles. “Magic is a trade. To achieve a certain outcome ye have to cede things that ye hold dear.”
“Like half your life?”
“Like that.”
“What happens when you go back? I mean, you said you are twelve hundred years old. Or six hundred if you don’t count the time you were sleeping.”
“I’m young enough for a fae. When I pass the veil, all magic that belongs to the human world is stripped from me. All bargains made here are concluded.”
Leo liked the sound of that. “Does that mean you could visit us? Without having to go to sleep?”
“Technically. The veil is easier to pass near the solstices and equinoxes, but a fae in full power can pass at any time. It’s returning home that’s the difficult part.”
“Which requires a key.”
“That it does.”
They’d decided to invite the Tienfields to dinner on December 21st and Roisin had agreed to leave in full sight of all four of them to prove her case. She’d become more distant over the last four days, and she grew antsy now, no longer able to keep still or observe human courtesies.
Leo glanced at his phone, which he’d programmed to count down to the solstice. “Can you feel it?”
“Yes. It’s like ants crawling in my blood.” She hadn’t let go of the key since she’d found it. It was looped around her wrist with a braided cord and a metal chain, and she clasped it in her palm whenever she didn’t need to use her fingers. It was heart-breaking to watch, but Leo consoled himself with the fact that she would be home soon enough.
“I’d best go.” Roisin stood, mind already elsewhere. “Leave food out for me for the next six days,” she said and then resolutely turned away.
Leo sat frozen, clutching Finn’s hand. They’d said their goodbyes earlier in the day, but the fact that Roisin would disappear into another world was only now sinking in. Their time to ask questions had run out, as had the chance to see Roisin work. In less than a month she’d changed their lives in so many ways… and now she’d leave them.
They saw her take a deep breath, and the curtain of wavering blue and green light she’d produced on the day she’d found her amulet reappeared in the living room. This time, Roisin didn’t just look at it.
She took one step forward.
Another.
Her third step led her through the wash of colours.
There was no sound. No flash of light or other sign to tell them Roisin had arrived in her world. The lights winked out once she’d passed through, leaving the living room darker, colder, and silent.
Leo was shaking. He clutched Finn’s hand like a lifeline and felt Finn doing the same. As one, they turned their gazes towards the kitchen. Nothing moved. The copper tiles reflected the light, and the cupboard doors remained the dark blue Roisin had chosen for them.
“Well, that was…”
“Not a dream,” Finn continued, voice hoarse.
“An intriguing demonstration we can’t argue with, even if I wished to,” Mr Tienfield summed up.
“She really wasn’t human. She could really do magic. And… she went home.” Finn’s voice cracked, and Leo tightened his grip, finding he had no words for what he’d just seen.
