Technically, yes, he was within his rights. Dark fae might be surveilled, but they were common and mostly left alone as long as they didn’t indulge their darker behaviors while within Oberon’s Castle.
She whipped the chair around and sat with the chairback between them. “I take it you’re someone’s experiment?” Being someone’s experiment counted as a dark behavior.
The kelpie set down his pint.
His fingers drummed on the table in a soundless smooth wave. When she looked back at his face, he’d curled his lip enough to show yet more fang.
Wrenn pulled out her phone. She opened her recording app and aimed the microphone at the kelpie. “You have to tell me how you got yourself vamped. I bet it’s the best dark fae origin story ever.”
A low groan rolled from the kelpie.
“Let me guess,” Wrenn said. “You tried to enthrall some meek lass but you weren’t paying attention and ended up almost sucked dry by one of those vampires who preys on magicals.” Wrenn nodded. “But she liked your lovely face and your lovelier abs and now you’re some depraved Gulf Coast clan’s boy toy.” Now she sniffed. “Because none of the real European clans would give a shit about a kelpie.”
He moved so fast she didn’t see him come over the table and grab the back of her chair. “Watch yer mouth,” he said.
Wrenn didn’t flinch. She stared at the kelpie’s lovely ice green eyes. “Do you know why I’m a paladin?” she asked.
He slid back into his chair. “I’m nae from around here.”
Kelpies lived in Queen Titania’s realms. Seemed she liked all stallions, even the murdering kind.
“Obviously,” Wrenn said.
He grinned. No fangs this time, at least.
“I don’t thrall.” She didn’t. “You won’t like the taste of my blood, either.” Vampires found her “difficult.”
Yet another bit of resilience she could hang on Victor Frankenstein.
“Steadfast an’ sturdy,” he muttered.
“Who do you work for?” She might as well be straightforward.
He chuckled again. “Who said I worked for anyone?”
She shrugged. “Kelpie boy toy, remember? Not one of you is smart or powerful enough to run anything beyond your loch.”
“Some o’ us are.” He breathed out a long string of Gaelic swear words which, if they hadn’t come from the mouth of a kelpie, would have been more entertaining than frightening.
Then another wave pulsed out from his body, but not toward her. He pulsed out to the tavern.
He was fast, but so was she. They were both up and with a hand on the other’s throat before the enthralling wave reflected back to the kelpie. They were the same height, though he was significantly wider at the shoulders and longer-limbed. He gripped her with ease. She had to twist her shoulder toward him.
“Threatening one of Oberon’s paladins is enough to bring you in,” she said.
“Goadin’ a dark fae is enough t’ get ye killed,” he answered.
Wrenn reached into her pocket with her free hand, pulled out her phone, thumbed open her camera app, activated the vampire filter, and made a point of taking a picture of the kelpie’s head and her hand around his neck.
“That photo willnae show anythin’,” he growled.
Someone wasn’t keeping up with his tech news. She thumbed her Royal Guard app, switched to the front facing lens, and snapped a photo of his hand around her neck.
He grabbed her hair with his other hand.
She stood her ground and snapped another picture.
A full-throated yowl-screech rose out of his throat. No one in the tavern moved. No one noticed. Every single patron ignored them as if they weren’t there.
He’d enthralled everyone. She’d underestimated his power level.
And his strength. He pushed her down and to the side. Her knee buckled, and her elbow screamed. She let go of his neck and stumbled to her left, off balance and completely under his control.
She got her phone back into her pocket before he slammed her face into the table. Pain burst outward from her cheekbone and her ear. She pushed on the table to get her footing but he shook her and kept her off balance.
“I ken ye sent in those photos,” he slammed her head against the table again to emphasize that he knew exactly what she’d just done. “Do ye think someone’s gonnae come to yer rescue? It’s almost midnight.” He held up her head so she could see the tavern emptying out.
They were all going outside to watch the world move from the light half of the year to the dark.
The kelpie hauled her up again so they were face-to-face. She grabbed his wrist and twisted.
He only laughed. “I came here for th’ witch in th’ back.” He leaned close. “Ye can trade in substantial favors when ye ken what currency is most valuable.” He sniffed her ear. “I wonder what one o’ yer kind would bring in.”
There was only one other of her kind. Unless…
“Are you working for him?” One other victim of Victor Frankenstein still walking around. Except the other wasn’t a victim. The other was a vampire. “Where is he?”
The kelpie dragged her toward the tavern’s back room. “Who, darlin’?” He slapped her hard. “I’m a Gulf Coast boy toy, remember?” He pushed open the door and slammed her against the frame. “Th’ rest of the fae, they ken nothin’ about what’s happenin’ in North America.” He dragged through another door and into the kitchen. “Noth—”
Heat hit her hard. The kitchen had been cleared out but the fires still roared. Meat still sizzled on a spit.
A steel frying pan bounced off the kelpie’s face. Iron would have been better, but there was no cold cast iron in the fae realms.
The kelpie swore and let go of her neck and hair.
She grabbed his legs on the way down and toppled him into the kitchen. This time, the wielder of the pan slammed it into the back of his head.
It didn’t do any
