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lost, but I needed to get Quin back. After a lot of cursing and some pacing up and down the road, I finally found a driveway tucked between some old bushes that grew up the tall walls. I strode down the driveway and wondered if it was too much to ask to walk in the front door. Fortunately, I wasn’t foolish enough to try that plan, although I wouldn’t have put it past Quin. I lacked his silver tongue, though, and pushed through the overgrown foliage to look around the back of the small house.  
    There was no light coming from inside, although the filth covering the windows made it difficult to be sure. There was no car in the driveway, but there had been fresh tracks left on the old thin gravel. Perhaps luck was finally on my side.  

CHAPTER NINE

    I kept close to the ground and ducked beneath the windows that looked out onto the overgrown wasteland that must once have been a beautiful garden. Scraggly rose bushes fought for space and light with bright yellow weeds and coarse grass. I focused on the worn back door, with the peeling blue paint that revealed old grey wood. It was slightly open, swollen tight against the concrete step. I paused, listening intently for any sound. My heart hammered in my chest and my breath caught in my throat; every muscle was tense as I prepared to fight or run.
    Nothing. I let out a long slow breath and crept closer. I peered into the darkness through the crack left open by the door; the musty smell clogged my nostrils. I fought back a sneeze. It certainly didn’t look at though anyone lived there. I thought elves were supposed to be known for their exquisite taste; the alchemist had certainly lived up to it. A thrill ran through me at the memory of his fingers running over my hand. I cursed myself for being so foolish and focused on the job at hand.
    I allowed my eyes to adjust to the darkness and still saw nothing. Satisfied, I put my weight against the door and cringed as it groaned and creaked under the pressure. It opened agonizingly slowly, but enough to allow me entry. I stopped, waiting for something to burst out of the darkness. Still nothing. I pulled out one of my knives and slipped into the room, keeping my body low. The scrap had informed me the recipe would be in some sacred room below ground; I began looking for a door or stairway heading down to the basement.  
    There were two types of elves: those who preferred being high up, and those that preferred being underground. The former were more useful and less likely to inflict some form of curse or plague on you. The latter were malicious and fortunately quite rare. I couldn’t help but feel a little better retrieving something of value from an underground elf; the less power they had, the better. I smiled to myself. For all I knew, the damn recipe was for cupcakes; it was exactly the type of shit that would have amused an elf. I told myself I didn’t care; I was doing it for Quin.
    The floorboards creaked beneath me and barely any light managed to squeeze between the thick layers of grime on the windows. I moved as quickly and as light-footedly as I could. The kitchen, for lack of a better term for the almost barren room, offered nothing of use. The living room had a threadbare carpet covering the floor and small wooden table before an armchair that had springs poking up through the thin cushion. Ash filled the grate and covered the pockmarked rug. I couldn’t see a door, though.  
    I continued on into the dining room. The wallpaper peeled away from the walls, stained yellow with red drips in places. I shuddered as I saw the old brown markings embedded in the wood of the large table. What looked like claw marks ran up the edges; the varnish had been dug out, which left the old wood exposed to the air. There were no chairs, just a selection of rusted knives on blood-red cloths thrown up in a corner on a cheap metal table.  
    My last option was the doorway under the stairs. It remained firmly stuck in place when I yanked