Of course they’re strong magicks, Gabe thought.
The kelpie slapped the dash. “All right, my wee friends!” He inhaled deeply. “It’s time.”
Gabe wouldn’t plead. Pleading would lead to a deal, and a deal would be worse than getting hurt, so he just waited for the kelpie to give him instructions.
The kelpie tapped his fingers along the pommel, then he did something that said he had magic in his hand: He flipped his fingers the way a magician flips a quarter between his knuckles.
Gabe had no idea what spellwork he pinched between his thumb and forefinger like a coin, but he had something there. Something that he brushed against the sword’s blade.
“Hmmm….” The kelpie pointed at the garage door without looking at Gabe. “Turn on th’ van, son,” he said.
Should he?
“He won’t let us open the garage door unless you turn on the van,” Sophia said.
His not-an-oracle sister wanted him to open the door.
Gabe pressed his foot into the brake and his finger into the starter.
Then he hit the garage door opener.
The kelpie slammed the sword into the floorboards so it stood up on its own. “Drive!” he barked.
The garage door rose enough so the pavement of the driveway came into view. A little bit of snow. Some ice. No people.
Gabe put his hand on the gear shift. He was pretty sure he had to press, push, and wiggle to get it to move. He looked back at the slowly revealing driveway.
Where was everyone? Why wasn’t his father right there, gun out, and yelling for the kelpie to get out of the van?
The door continued to rise. He looked back at the gear shift. If he purposefully messed up putting the van in drive, would the kelpie hurt them?
He looked back at the driveway. And there, at the end, parked in such a way as to make it impossible to get the van out or around and onto the street, sat two Alfheim County Sheriff’s Department vehicles.
One was the fake K-9 Unit meant for the Pack. The other was his father’s cruiser.
His papa was here. He’d made it back from wherever he was, out on the roads, all the way to Alfheim in the time Gabe and Sophia had been stalling the kelpie.
“Papa’s here,” he breathed, before he realized he should have kept that info to himself.
But his father had come to save them. Gabe looked back at his sister.
She clamped her hand onto his arm and stared wide-eyed at the cars outside. “Duck!” Sophia screamed.
Gabe looked back at the vehicles just as two werewolves leaped at the van.
Chapter 19
Ed Martinez would take his wife and children far, far from Alfheim and the Gulf Coast. He’d take them into Ontario, or the interior of Oregon, or deep into Mexico, if he had to.
All these damned magicals were way too dangerous.
The fae lawwoman pointed. “The elves have your wife and the younger children. They’re taking them through the backyard to the next street over.”
Lennart Thorsson and Sif the Golden were moving his pregnant wife and two youngest through the neighbor’s yard. They’d get them into Lennart’s SUV and immediately take them to Alfheim’s hospital where they would be checked over and placed under the direct protection of Alfheim’s Elf Queen, Dagrun Tyrsdottir.
And Wrenn saw it all because she saw magic.
He wasn’t going to think about her connections to Alfheim’s tall, maroon-eyed, magic-seeing local right now. The elves could deal with that.
Bjorn Thorsson seemed much more interested in the sword the damned kelpie had stolen off Wrenn than he was in Wrenn herself, even with the magic-seeing. So it was probably a good thing no one could find Frank Victorsson.
The big elf wasn’t glamouring well at the moment. Ed’s neighbors, many of whom were likely watching from their windows, would see the owner of Raven’s Gaze outside the Sheriff’s house, which was weird enough. The visible blue electrical static dancing on his shoulders might cause a panic.
The elves could deal with that, too.
Bjorn moved his hands as if whipping up a spell.
Wrenn watched Bjorn’s hands, then peered at Ed’s garage door. “I’m not seeing any spikes in Ranger’s magicks,” she said.
Bjorn nodded. “Do not engage any of your fae spells.” He didn’t look at her. “Do not interfere with my or any of the others’ enchantments. We cannot have you accidently waking up the sword again.” Magnus Freyrsson and Benta the Nameless were nearby but hidden. Ed didn’t know where. Neither did Wrenn, and Bjorn wasn’t going to say.
Wrenn nodded.
“Follow the Sheriff’s lead. Stay with him and to the side of the driveway until we have a clear path to the children,” Bjorn continued.
The magicals would contain the kelpie and the sword while Ed went in for the kids. The concealment enchantments woven from the vehicles to the house should keep Ed and Wrenn invisible until they reached the van.
Wrenn nodded again.
“And stay away from Redemption. We will deal with her.”
Ed had guessed the sword’s full name the moment Wrenn told him it had called itself Red. It fit the pattern. “That sword talked to her, Bjorn,” he said.
Bjorn did not flinch, or respond in any way, which meant that somewhere in that elven head he was thinking what they were all thinking: Wrenn was a piece on a game board here, and someone better figure out the rules.
He’d leave that to the elves, too.
Wrenn raised her hands. “Red’s your problem, not mine.”
They were reacting as if Ranger held the nuclear football. Which he might. The sword was why Magnus Freyrsson and Benta the Nameless were out there, somewhere, waiting.
A little voice in the back of Ed’s head said that they weren’t the only elves surrounding his house. All of the elder elves were probably here, including Arne Odinsson and his daughter, Maura Dagsdottir.
He
