Now, to find her a place to live. These cottages all seemed occupied, and there wasn’t much room for a garden. I continued up the winding road outside the town, passing men on carts and dead-eyed donkeys trudging along, hauling hay.
I’d forgotten Hollowshade was close to a portal. Handy, that. Not that I had any intention of coming here myself. Still, having a portal nearby would remove the magical signature if I did decide to check up on her. Just to make sure no one had murdered her and whatnot.
The colorful village surrendered to low stacked-stone walls separating fields of grazing sheep. After ten minutes, I came upon a cottage. Or, at least what used to be a cottage. At the moment, with the holes in the moss-covered roof, the place looked more like a dilapidated shack.
Aveen would probably love it.
I kicked the building’s stone walls. They seemed sturdy enough. Nothing crumbled, anyway. The windows were shite, though, half broken, clinging by the frames. The door sagged off its rusted hinges. She wanted weeds, and there were plenty of them. It wasn’t a large garden, but there should be enough room for whatever she’d want to plant. I continued walking until I reached a two-story farmhouse. An angry bull glared at me from beneath its cage-like helmet from the enclosure next to the house.
A stooped man with thinning white hair and a wiry white beard stopped shoveling hay into a trough when he saw me approach.
“Mornin’,” I offered in greeting, giving him a friendly wave.
“Mornin’,” he returned with a stiff nod.
“You know who owns that old heap of shite down the road?”
He shifted his stance, resting his elbow on the end of the pitchfork’s handle so he could scratch at his beard. “Belonged to my ma.”
“You willin’ to sell it?”
“Fer what?”
“It just so happens I’m in the market for a heap of shite.”
It was hard to tell with the beard, but I could’ve sworn the corner of his lips lifted. “Suppose I could be persuaded fer a hundred pieces of silver.”
“Forthat?” I choked, gesturing toward the dilapidated old chimney barely visible over the horizon.
“Sentimental value, ya see.”
Sentimental value, my arse. The bastard was fleecing me. I could just kill him and take the feckin’ thing. Unfortunately, my human would take issue with that, so I dragged out my purse and counted out silver coins through gritted teeth. It wasn’t as if I didn’t have the money, and it wasn’t as if Aveen wasn’t worth every feckin’ coin. I just didn’t take kindly to being taken advantage of.
“There.” I shoved the rest of my purse into my pocket. “Do you have the deed?” I wouldn’t be leaving here without it.
The man grumbled something before disappearing into the house. The bull strode forward, its muscles straining under its hide. The bollocks on the thing.Feckin’ hell.
He emerged with a folded-up piece of parchment and handed it over with a tobacco-stained smile. “Phil’s free,” he said.
“Who the hell is Phil?”
The man smirked and went back to shoveling hay.
* * *
Turned out, Phil was a one-horned goat who refused to leave the overgrown garden even though the walls surrounding it had gaps as big as me and a gaping gate. I could’ve killed the thing, but that seemed unnecessarily cruel, so I’d shifted it into a field down the way three times.
He always found his way back.
The garden was a tangled mess of greens and browns, with a few colorful weeds growing along the front wall. Creeping ivy clung to the back of the house, and there were some blackberry bushes growing on the one side as well.
Inside, a few blocks of turf had been piled next to the dusty fireplace. When I opened the door to the first of the two bedrooms, a feckin’ mouse darted across my boot. At least I hoped it was a mouse. Dust motes spun in the shafts of muted sunlight streaming through grimy, broken windows.
Once I started sneezing, I couldn’t stop.My eyes itched so feckin’ bad, I wanted to tear them from my skull. I might as well burn the place if I couldn’t get rid of the dust.
I knocked out every single window and left the door wide open, hoping the damp, fresh air would make it so I could breathe. Phil took this as an invitation to come right inside. The beast plonked himself down next to the fireplace, gnawing on bits of an old boot, watching me through beady eyes.
I had a little under a year to get things sorted.