more humanlike than Elf. Thin color instead of deep, rich tones, the predominant hues of blue and purple indicating a connection to water.
The bait bar was near a father with two boys who looked to be about fifteen or sixteen. Sullenness radiated from one boy, a surly demeanor that didn’t change with the tug on his line.
He drew his line in as Eamon neared. A small silver body coming over the railing as Eamon was footsteps away.
With no warning the boy shouted, “This trip is fucking lame!” and swung the fish, slamming it down on the deck with a force that sent scales and fish guts flying.
Debris landed on Eamon’s pant legs as magic pounded against his senses. A wild, raging mass of it possessing Farrell’s form as the changeling leapt from his position and attacked the boy.
Against a changeling’s strength and fury, the larger boy didn’t have a chance. Fists and kicks drove him backward, knocking over coolers and sending ice and fish along the deck so both boys went down.
A toss into the ocean and the sullen teen would drown before any of them could reach him. That was the power of magic, the danger of water.
Eamon entered the fray along with the human boy’s father, emerging a moment later with Farrell in his grip, though the changeling continued to thrash and kick, controlled by elemental magic until Eamon shielded him from the water’s voice with a spell.
Farrell sagged like a puppet with cut strings. He kept his head bowed, trembling, the contact transferring more scales and guts and water to Eamon’s clothing.
This was the hope Eamon believed Etain might offer his people, that with her ink she could quiet the dangerous voice of magic, possibly even rechanneling it, making the relationship between it and the Elven in this world parallel to the one in Elfhome.
Garret arrived, fear on his face at how Eamon might judge his son.
“Lord,” Garret said in a voice that wouldn’t carry to the humans. “There was provocation and just cause.”
The human boy’s father said, “I apologize for my son. His behavior was inexcusable. Farrell can’t be blamed for reacting to it.”
“Not for reacting,” Eamon agreed, “but for his actions he will be held accountable.”
Eamon turned Farrell, hands locked on scrawny upper arms. He shook the boy so he looked up, fear in his expression where seconds earlier there’d been raw, unfettered, and unreasoning power.
Magic’s voice was quiet. For now. But Eamon couldn’t risk leaving the changeling, not surrounded by so much water, not when there was a strong likelihood the human teen would provoke another attack. “Gather anything of importance to you and get in the speedboat.”
“Yes, Lord,” Farrell whispered.
Eamon released him, turning toward Garret. “You and your wife may visit him at Aesirs when you bring clothing and whatever else you see fit to. He’ll work and live there.” Where the wards would keep him safe for a time, and where he would also remain close to his family.
“We’ll come this evening, Lord.”
Farrell cast a quick, shamed glance at his father then did as Eamon ordered. Eamon followed moments later, climbing down to the waiting speedboat, this time with Myk following him.
“You have all the fun,” Heath said, straight-faced and yet still failing to suppress his amusement at the sight of Eamon’s wet and fish-spackled clothing.
“It’s a perk of being Lord,” Myk said, dropping lightly into the boat, as irreverent in his way as Liam was.
“Aesirs,” Eamon said, command and destination both. Rhys could take charge of Farrell, leaving him free, in turn, to take charge of his future consort-wife.
Truth time,” Etain said, unlocking the spare helmet and offering it to Cathal.
He took it with a flashing smile. “I’m not afraid of letting you take me for a ride.”
She laughed, moving in, pressing the front of her body against his. “Oh I know that. In fact, I’d say you’re a big fan of woman on top.”
“Definitely.” His arm snaked around her waist. “Continue this conversation and we’ll get an even later start.”
“Tempting.” She exhaled, the sound of it marking the end of levity. “Really tempting. I dread this.”
Her skin felt stretched thin, her nerve-endings already jangling and her heart rushing in anticipation of visiting Vontae’s family and being in the presence of so much raw emotion.
“I’m afraid,” she added in a whisper. Afraid of losing control the way she had with Parker, of forcing answers and in the process stripping minds without Eamon there to stop her.
Cathal’s arm tightened at her waist. He rubbed his cheek against hers. “You don’t have to put yourself through this. I told you I’d cover the bill if we pull Sean McAllister in and give him a list of all the people you’ve tattooed who are likely suspects. He’s good at what he does. It wouldn’t take him long to locate them and see what they’re up to. Someone will pop as a high probable and you can turn the name over to the police, let them handle it from there.”
“Or I could be sure first, by getting close enough to take a memory that’ll give Ordones something to work with.”
The ease with which she accepted doing just that had her chest constricting as Cathal’s emotional
“Let’s head to Sean’s boat,” he murmured, lips brushing her ear in an attempt to persuade her. “I’ll even let you drive.”
She accepted his attempt to lighten the mood. “Big of you, considering we’re taking
Stepping away from him, she picked up her helmet, not completely able to shed the seriousness. “I need to get the hard part over with first. Then swing by the shelter to ask Justine what she remembers. There’s a lot I don’t.” She met his gaze squarely. “I was high a lot of the time, early on, when the call to ink arrived and things became difficult at home.”
Not that they’d ever been easy, thanks to the captain’s wife and daughters. But stir in arguments with him and fights with Parker, along with the heavy, heavy weight of disapproval, and it had gotten easier and easier to blow off curfews, and the repercussions from that had, in turn, fostered greater rebellion.
“Vontae was early on, but I tattooed a shit-load of people back then, anybody willing to offer up a patch of fresh skin. Sometimes I did it stoned out of my mind, transferring the surreal things in my head onto various body parts.”
She wasn’t proud of it. But shame didn’t cling to her either. There wasn’t much point in it though she regretted the ink now, regretted other things from that time in her life, not the least of which was the inability to get beyond it when it came to the captain and Parker.
She couldn’t change the past, even if it apparently was coming back to haunt her. The best she could do was damage control. Starting now.
“After Justine, then I’m game to involve Sean. Mmm mmm. He gives the eye candy at Aesirs a run for the money. Yummy, Johnny Depp in the role of pirate. If I didn’t already have enough man trouble I’d be tempted.”
“I’m glad that was man, singular, not plural.”
“How do you know I’m not talking about you? Eamon hasn’t joined us yet, therefore, no plural.”
Cathal laughed, touching the garage door button. It rolled upward. She put on the helmet, afterward pushing the Harley out and straddling it.
He joined her on the bike and she liked the feel of him at her back. With a roar they took off, leaving luxury and blue skies for a small house smothered by the fog that still clung to the Bayview-Hunters Point district.
It didn’t surprise her when Liam appeared, emerging from wet gloom to join them without speaking, as if he’d been waiting for their arrival.
She shelved thoughts of the supernatural, or tried to. A glance down at the eyes on her palms and she was reluctantly glad for Liam’s presence, though despite Cathal’s desire for Eamon’s continued absence, she wished it
