Free The Trouble With Pixies (Edinburgh Elementals Book 1) by Gayle Ramage Page B

the room stayed closed.
    ‘What’s going on?’ he asked, utterly bewildered.
    ‘Some idiot opened this door, that’s what’s going on,’ Hattie hissed, glaring at him.
    ‘My son is not an idiot. He didn’t find anything strange in there, or else he would have said. In fact, he wants it to be his bedroom eventually.’
    Hattie looked at him in disbelief. ‘And you don’t mind your son sharing a room with -’ She suddenly lunged forward, grabbing his arm.
    ‘Sharing a room with what? What are you doing, woman?’ Michael tried to keep his cool, despite the increasingly bizarre turn of events.
    Hattie ignored his questions. She took his hands and placed them on the door handle, warning him to keep the door closed no matter what. Then she hurried down the stairs again.
    ‘Where are you going now?’ Michael yelled.
    ‘Back in a second,’ she called back.
    ‘Hattie!’ No answer. Still with his hands wrapped around the handle, Michael stared at the door, noticing parts of the red paint had peeled away. He made a mental note to add it to his To-Do list, and wondered just what was so terrible about the attic. After investigating the room, Ben had only remarked that he thought it was cool and wanted it to be his bedroom. Nothing that would have caused Michael concern.
    Eventually, Hattie reappeared at the top of the stairs. Michael was ready to demand she tell him what the hell was going on, but a look at the thing in her hands shut him up. At first he thought it was a gun, but as Hattie drew nearer he realised it wasn’t like any gun he’d ever seen. There were several buttons on both sides of barrel, for a start.
    ‘Okay,’ she said, heavily. ‘You can let go, now.’
    ‘Not until you tell me what the hell is going on, and what that thing is,’ said Michael firmly. ‘I mean it. This is ridiculous.’
    ‘You won’t believe me.’
    ‘I’ll be the judge of that.’
    The stand-off continued. Hattie glared at Michael, and Michael glared right back. Finally, Hattie’s shoulders sagged.
    ‘Elsa had a spot of trouble with… with some things,’ she explained. ‘She called me and I managed to contain them in the attic and locked the door. I told her not to open it until I got back. But, of course, she went and died.’
    ‘Why didn’t she call the police? Why get you?’
    ‘The police?’ Hattie laughed. ‘If only it was that simple. No, this needed a … specialist .’
    Michael frowned. Specialist? What did she mean? He wondered if she worked for MI5 and even asked if she was a spy.
    At first she couldn’t reply for laughing. Eventually, she composed herself and shook her head. ‘I’m no spy.’
    Feeling a little embarrassed, and more than a little annoyed, Michael barked: ‘Just bloody tell me, then!’
    ‘They’re pixies!’ she answered, her voice raised.
    Silence followed as Michael tried to comprehend what she’d said. Then he laughed. ‘Pixies? What?’
    She shot him a scathing look. ‘Yes, pixies. And if you’d ever had run-ins with them before, you would not be mocking me.’
    ‘I’m sorry but… pixies?’
    ‘Yes, yes. Pixies. That’s what I said,’ Hattie answered irritably.
    ‘So you’ve locked pixies in my attic,’ said Michael, looking for confirmation of the absurd. Despite his disbelief, he still held that door handle.
    Hattie pulled off her hat, hung it over the banister and ran a hand through her mane of curly red hair. ‘Please stand aside,’ she said again, in a softer tone this time. She pressed one of the buttons on the weapon. The thing made a sound as though it was charging up.
    Michael weighed up his options. He could frogmarch this strange woman downstairs, out the house and out of his life. But something made him move away from the door and do as she asked. He was curious, more than anything, to find out what she would do when faced with a normal, empty room.
    ‘Okay,’ she said. ‘I’m going to count to three, and then I’m going to open this door.