The last thing Hannah expected to see when she opened the door was a bloodied half-dead Elf. Not that she had been expecting a healthy elf either; a mortally wounded one was just a little bit more of a shock. Still, in retrospect, yelping and slamming the door in his face probably wasn’t the politest thing to do.

It took her a few frantic breaths to get up the courage to reopen the door. When she did, the annoyed look he gave her was enough to squash her initial surge of guilt.

“I need your help.” It was more a demand than a request and the elf was already halfway into her living room by the time she had opened her mouth to tell him no. Pursing her lips, Hannah closed the door and went to get some towels. Mystical Fae Knight or not, she’d just bought that sofa.