Storm Warrior

incredibly stubborn woman. At least she hadn’t enforced her demands that he leave her property.

Yet.

They passed a bakery where gyngerbrede was just being taken out of the brick ovens. Leo inhaled the spicy air rapturously.

“Damn, that smells just like my granny’s kitchen,” he said. “I wish I wasn’t so stuffed.”

“I’ve a charm fer that,” said Ranyon. Plucking a penny off the ground, he said a few strange words over it and passed it to his friend.

Leo looked at the coin in his palm and was about to speak when a long, loud belch erupted from his throat. Mortified, he put his other hand over his mouth, but a second burp refused to be suppressed. It was louder than the first, and a few heads in the crowd turned to look for the source.

Rhys grabbed his friend’s arm as a third burp nearly vibrated Leo off his feet. Quickly, he helped the old man to a bench.

“Goddamn,” whispered Leo, obviously afraid to open his mouth very far. No further belches were forthcoming, and he sighed in relief. “What the hell did I eat? I haven’t burped like that since I was twelve and trying to burp the alphabet to impress Annie Mae Grissom.”

“You wanted room in your belly to fit some sweets,” laughed Ranyon. “I told you I had a charm fer that.” He pointed at Leo’s left hand that was still clutching the penny.

“Shit, I should have known it was you.” Leo dropped the penny as if it was hot and shook his fist in mock anger. “You have a damn charm for everything, don’t you? I’d better not start farting!”

“Nay, I have pity on these poor mortals around us,” grinned Ranyon. “So, are we having gyngerbrede or not?”

As they made their way up the bleachers, a children’s costume parade was just clearing the forefield. The next event would be an exhibition of falconry.

Rhys looked around and spotted Morgan at one side of the field, checking the wing of an enormous hawk for any injuries or strains. Jay had mentioned she was on duty during the fair, that a veterinarian had to be on hand during any event that involved animals. Rules again. Rhys could see it was a good rule, however. He watched as sunlight glinted on her hair, bringing out its rich chestnut color. She hadn’t tied it back today, and the sweep of it as she bent to write something echoed the sweep of the hawk’s wing. He wished she was sitting next to him—although it was damned unlikely she would want to do so, considering the way things stood between them. As if Morgan could feel his eyes on her, she lifted her head and looked directly at him before returning to examining the bird. She didn’t smile, didn’t acknowledge him in the least.

“I take it she still thinks you’re crazy,” said Leo.

“I’ve a charm fer that—”

“No!” said Rhys and Leo together.

“Well, ’twould be faster than what yer doing,” Ranyon muttered.

Rhys sent the ellyll a warning look, then turned his attention back to Leo. “Aye, Morgan does not yet believe where I came from.”

The old man shifted his Mariners cap on his head. Ranyon copied the gesture with his Blue Jays hat. “You gotta admit, son, your story is one in a million.”

“My tale is far from rare. There are others like me.”

“What do you mean like you?” asked Leo.

It was Ranyon who answered, however. “There’re plenty of other humans enthralled by the Tylwyth Teg. They keep ’em like pets or like slaves. Same thing.”

The old man was flabbergasted. “In the twenty-first century?”

“The Tylwyth Teg are immortal,” said Rhys. “Time means nothing to them and neither do humans.”

“Aye, just trifling and temporary creatures with little use,” added Ranyon. “Not to be offending the both of ya. But other than providing a little entertainment from time to time, humans just aren’t important to most of the fae.”

Leo held up his hands as if to fend off what his friends were telling him. “That’s downright cold.”

“Aye, it is. But how important is a bee to you?” Rhys asked the old man. “Your lifetime is all but forever compared to its brief span. It lives in a world apart from yours. You might enjoy the honey it makes, but what human would consider a bee’s well-being, its happiness? Would it weigh on your conscience if you killed one?”

The ellyll spat—a new skill he’d picked up from watching baseball. A giant pink wad of bubblegum bounced through the floor of the bleachers and disappeared. “The Tylwyth Teg rule over all the faery races, but they have no conscience to speak of. No concern for anyone but themselves, and not even for one another. Like spoiled and hateful children they are. And no one to stand against them.”

“There’s malice aplenty from some,” agreed Rhys. “But you can guard yourself against malice. Most of the Tylwyth Teg are indifferent and that’s worse. That’s what makes them so dangerous.”

Ranyon put his Jays cap on backward and sighed. “Aye. And bloody unpredictable.”

“C’mon, isn’t there somebody in charge?” Leo demanded. “I thought there was supposed to be some kind of ruler, like in the bedtime stories my mother told me.”

“Oh, aye. The queen has done her very best to keep things fair and peaceful, but when the old king died, much of her influence died with him. Now most of the Tylwyth Teg do what they like and hang the rest,” said the ellyll.

“The king died? You just told me that faeries live forever.”

“Being immortal doesn’t mean they can’t be killed,” said Rhys.

Ranyon folded his spindly arms. “Remember my clan who perished. So, aye, even the king of the Tylwyth Teg was slain. There was treachery behind it, a play for the throne, and the queen narrowly held her power. But hold it she did, for all the good it’s done her. No one dares to challenge her openly, but many work behind her back. And so no one is safe, not human nor fae.”

“It’s just not right,” declared Leo and reset his baseball cap on his head as if to emphasize the point. “It’s not right at all. No one’s unimportant. No one.”

Ranyon patted his friend’s arm. “Aye, not when they’re around Leo Waterson, they’re not.”

Rhys heartily agreed, but inside he was disquieted. No one is safe, not human nor fae. The bleak conversation had served to remind him that the Tylwyth Teg were probably far from finished with him. So far, they’d sent a spy and an assassin. What would be next?

After the jousting finished—with Brandan and Boo claiming the title—the remaining events involved humans only. Morgan was free to wander the makeshift streets of the fair, taking in the many displays and demonstrations. It felt strange not to rush back to the clinic, but Grady and Tyler no doubt had the place under control. In fact, Jay and Grady had both insisted that Morgan take a few days off after she finished with today’s events.

For once, she hadn’t argued. After all, she hadn’t slept well since her falling-out with Rhys. Most nights she was too miserable to nod off for very long, and when she did, the results were astonishing. She was still experiencing blatantly sexy dreams, and they all revolved around Rhys. Was the man an addiction? And, of course, it only added to the difficulty of getting over him.

Part of her was no longer certain that was possible…

She passed a booth with charming felted hats that had a mirror angled in her direction. Good grief. It was obvious that all the cover stick in the world could no longer hide the shadows under her eyes—no wonder her partners had told her to take time off. Maybe some time to herself was just what she needed. A little rest, a little relaxation, a little recreation…Morgan imagined that a trip to a shopping mall would have been more therapeutic than an event where Rhys was impossible to avoid. But, as she lectured herself inwardly, she loved the fair and she attended every year. Even if she had hated it, she would have come for the sake of supporting her friends. No way was she going to be chased off because Mr. Celtic Warrior was walking around looking better than Brad Pitt on his best day.