Double uh oh.
The creep wagged a mocking finger at Orin, “Ah-ah-ah, Wolf Boy. Was I talking to you?” I heard a chilling growl, from deep in Orin’s throat. The sound was more animal than human, and made me shudder. Maybe they call him ‘wolf’ for a reason? I still hoped I could cool this shit off. “Guys, really. I can handle him.”
“Clearly not,” Orin rumbled, as Keegan braided his fingers and cracked his knuckles loudly. Orin’s fists were already balled up. “Best be on your way, arse crack, before you learn my bite really is worse than my bark.”
Despite my two towering Myrmidons, this crazy flyweight sneered, revealing those awful yellow teeth. “I’d like to see you try.”
“Would ya now?” Orin faked a punch, but held off a foot short of the grinning, skeletal face. The spindly brute flinched, and Orin laughed.
“What’s wrong, Molly?” Keegan mocked. “Having the painters in?”
I had hit my limit for this testosterone bullshit. “Okay, everyone knock it the fuck off!” I barked, my anger rising in a flash—
I felt something like a dark gust of frigid wind blast out from me, like a pulse of furious energy, or a shock wave. Everyone took a step back. More accurately, they were pushed back. All three suddenly looked as wary as rabbits in an open field.
“All I wanted was to go out and have a good time!” I laid into them. “but every flaming asshole in Ireland is determined to ruin my night! You!” I jabbed my finger toward the smelly douchebag. “I don’t want to dance with you, pencil dick. Listen when a lady said no!”
Then I turned to Keegan and Orin. “And you two—” Did the ground just shake again? “I can fight my own battles. So back the fuck off!”
I shoved the skinny sparrow fart aside, and stomped back toward our table. As my surge of angry power faded, I felt a little wobbly. Maybe I’m dehydrated. Impulsively, I took another drink from the water bottle I was still holding. Then I felt my gorge rise, as I remembered it was Mr. Creepo J. Needledick who gave it to me. I yanked my purse off my chair. My hands were shaking. Must be the adrenaline rush, I figured. I was starting to feel lightheaded. Oh fuck. Is this going to be like when I fitched a pit after my final exam?
I needed space. Fresh air. I wobbled toward the exit, just as Weylyn returned, shoving his phone in his pocket. He stopped me, leaned close, studying my face. “Keira? You’re sweating like a coal miner. Are you okay?”
I opened my mouth to reply, but someone had filled it with chalk and cotton balls. The world tilted on an angle, holding the threat that everyone was about to just slide off. Oh fuck fuckity fuck.
“Keira?” Weylyn grabbed my shoulders to steady me, genuinely alarmed. “What’s wrong? What happened?”
I shook my head, which made the world spin on top of the tilt. Weylyn grabbed the bottle out of my hand, something I had no means to resist. I saw him sniff the water, and I heard heavy footsteps, which I guessed where Orin, Keegan, and Brann, all galloping in like the cavalry.
I pushed nonsense words out, but everything I said came out in tongues. Over my own gibberish, the words of the men blurred together, faint echoes in a deep well. The last words that I understood warned me not to fall asleep. I fought to keep my eyes open. But that was impossible. “Well, fuck” was the last thing that floated through my foggy mind.
Then my legs gave out and the world went black...
Men of Magic
- Brann -
Weylyn, deft as he was, quickly tossed me the water, and caught Keira before she hit the floor. “Let’s go, dancing queen,” he said. “Time to get you home.”
“What the fuck is this?” I demanded. “How did this happen?”
“Doesn’t matter now, Brann” Orin said to me. “We’ve got to get her out of here, now.”
“It absolutely fucking matters!” I yelled. Meatheads. How are we supposed to help her, if we don’t know what’s wrong?
We hurried out of Crossroads into a rising wind, chilly and carrying a bite of it’s own. Weylyn was right behind me, with his coat thrown over Keira to keep her warm. Orin and Keegan followed, on alert for anything suspicious. The streetlights flickered strangely above us – which caught all our attention.
“Something’s not right, stay close,” I told everyone.
Keegan started grousing. “What did that guy do to her?”
“How about fewer questions asked, and more things done,” Orin growled. We hurried toward the corner, and Keegan’s SUV was in plain sight.
“Please, you two,” Weylyn pleaded, “Quit the squabbling.” He turned to me. “Brann? We need to figure out what to do next, and quickly.”
“Yes, yes,” I muttered, shutting them out to focus on potential solutions and actions. “Ordinarily, I would assess how much time we have, and if this condition is lethal. Whatever it is, someone means to hurt her. Getting Keira to safety is our paramount imperative now. Get her in the car.”
“Good thing you skipped the pedantic nonsense, this time,” Keegan grumbled. Then, as we turned the corner, Keegan nearly blew a gasket. A familiar and unwanted figure was leaning against his car. “You’re the fucker from the bar!”
The man looked different now, ghostly, but without transparency. He looked, quite literally, like a shadow of his former self. His skin had turned a dark gray, his cheeks sunken inward, and his black eyes were hollowed out. He flashed a rotten, yellow-toothed smile. “I need that girl alive. Hand her over, and we can all go about our business.”
“She is our business,” Keegan snarled.
Orin was all done with palaver, not that he was ever particularly verbal under even the best conditions. With a feral war cry, he charged the shadow man, dropping his shoulder low, ready to crush
