by N. P. Martin
I stared at her a moment, my smile turning into a mild chuckle. "Not what I expected to hear."
"What?" she said. "You think because of my job that I would write some female version of a Jack Reacher novel instead?"
"Maybe, although now that you’ve told me, I can see you writing historical romance. Do you publish your novels?"
She shook her head as if she’d said too much already.
"Come on," I said. "You have to tell me so I can read one of them. I’d say you publish under a pen name, am I right?"
"You could be."
I lightly banged the table with my fist. "That’s it then, I won’t rest until I get the name out of you."
"I’m not telling."
"I’m sure the books aren’t that bad, are they?"
"The reviews say they aren’t, so I guess not."
I smiled and shook my head at her. "I would never have thought. I can appreciate a woman with hidden depths."
"Can you now?"
"Yes."
She grabbed my hand suddenly, her grip firm. "Let’s see what depths you have then."
"What are you doing?"
"You soul gazed me," she said. "I think it only fair I do the same to you."
Even though I had never let a stranger poke around inside me before, I knew I couldn’t argue with her, especially if I wanted to get her on my side. If I refused, she would take it as a slight and there would be no chance of her trusting me.
"All right," I said, a little uncomfortable now over what she might find. I downed the rest of my whiskey. "Do your worst."
As she started the process, I soon felt her presence within me, not in a particularly invasive or violating way, but more in a gently probing sort of way that nonetheless made me feel vulnerable and slightly on edge. While she gazed into my eyes, I imagined her opening doors in my mind, searching for secrets and hidden motivations, running invisible hands over mental scars, churning up my inner-self to see what she could find. By the time she let go of my hand, I was left feeling emotionally raw and somewhat embarrassed by what she may have saw or felt. As she continued to look at me, however, I saw mostly indifference in her eyes, elves not being the most empathetic of beings. Though I did also see some form of understanding and perhaps even respect there as well. There was a moment of awkwardness which I chose to fill with polishing off the whiskey in my glass. "I hope it wasn’t too disturbing an experience," I said, looking away from her now as I refilled the glasses.
"It was what I expected, mostly," she said, her tone as matter of fact as ever.
Now I was slightly offended. "Really, I’m that predictable to you?"
She smiled and shook her head slightly. "Most humans are predictable. I read once that all humans are nothing more than an algorithm, and no matter what they do or how hard they try to be different, they always end up exhibiting the same kind of behavior as everyone else, as dictated by the algorithm."
"That’s an interesting theory. Do you think it applies to elves as well?"
She shrugged. "Maybe."
"So what did you see in there? You come across any of my dirty little secrets?"
"I saw the moment you found your father was dead," she said bluntly. "I also saw you holding your mother as she died."
I said nothing as I looked away, anger and sadness threatening to well up in me. "Did you now?" I said quietly.
Her response was to suddenly reach out and firmly grip the back of my neck as she pulled me toward her in order to kiss me. I was shocked for a second as her soft lips made contact with mine, but I soon found myself relaxing as I gazed into her eyes, which were unflinching as she held the kiss for another few seconds, before pulling away again.
"What was that for?" I asked her, my lips still tingling from her touch.
"Does there have to be an explanation?"
I shook my head slightly. "No."
"Well then." She refilled our glasses just as her attention was drawn by someone sitting at the bar. "See that guy over there?"
I turned my head slightly to see a large orc sitting at the bar, his glamor concealing his true form from the few Untouched sitting around the room. The orc seemed out of place in his scruffy leather jacket and faded jeans as he sat with his phone in his hand, occasionally making sly glances toward our table. "Who is he? You know him?"
Amelia nodded. "He’s part of a gang that tried to muscle in on Iolas’s territory a while back. I was sent in to sort them out."
"And by territory you mean anywhere in Dublin."
"Yes, Iolas controls it all," she said. "The way he looks at it, crime in the city will always exist, so he might as well control it his way."
"And profit from it his way as well."
Amelia shrugged. "Business is business."
I couldn’t get on my high horse too much. By acting as a Godfather of sorts, Iolas kept the gangs in the city in line. Without his influence, chaos would probably ensue on the streets of Dublin and the murder rate would go up as the gangs killed each other over territory.
My eyes went to the orc at the bar, who was now openly staring at us. "Is this dude going to be a problem?" I asked Amelia.
She looked out the window just as a black BMW pulled up outside, out of which stepped four massive orcs. "Considering his friends have just arrived, I’d say yes."
I shook my head as I polished off the whiskey in my glass, pretty much half-drunk by this stage. "So are we going to have a fight on our hands?"
Amelia didn’t seem too bothered by the prospect of violence. "I can handle it if you want to stay in your seat, lover boy."
"Lover boy?" I made a snorting sound. "Piss off, I can fight with the best of them."
She smiled. "I guess we’re about to find out if that’s true or not."
She finished her drink and stood up just as the newly arrived orcs entered the bar and met up with their mate. The other customers immediately knew there was something wrong and most of them got up and hurried out before things kicked off. The lone barman looked afraid as well. "I don’t want no trouble in here, lads," he said, his plea met with harsh stares.
"It’s all right, Frank," Amelia said to the barman. "These boys were just leaving."
The biggest of the orcs stepped forward then, stopping six feet from our table. My adrenaline spiked just at the sight of him. His dark eyes smoldered with anger and the promise of violence, and his tusks moved up and down slightly as his jaw clenched and unclenched. "Remember me?" he growled at Amelia.
"Cletus, right? How could I forget that ugly mug?" Amelia showed no trace of fear in her voice at all, and despite my own rising fear, I couldn’t help but be turned on by her confidence and unwavering composure.
"You fucking elves think you are so superior," Cletus growled. "Well, you won’t be catching us off guard this time, I’ll tell you that much."
Amelia walked around the table to stand in the middle of the floor facing Cletus. "Are you sure about that?"
Cletus’s confidence wavered for just a second as he looked into Amelia’s eyes. Somewhere in that big skull of his he probably realized he had made a mistake coming here, but it was too late to back down now, and he knew it. His response, therefore, was just to growl as he signaled for his men to come forward. Two of the other orcs moved past him toward Amelia, but before they could do anything, Amelia hit them both with a double blast of magical energy that lifted both orcs off their feet, sending them flying back to land on a nearby table that was demolished by their combined weight.
Still sitting in my chair, I was as shocked as the orcs were by Amelia’s awesome display of power. It was the first time I had seen her use her magic and if she was formidable before, she was even more so now. Elves drew their magic from the Void like every other Touched being, with the only difference being that elves had a much stronger connection to the Void than most other Touched, with the exception of vampires, who were supernatural to the core. The strength of her magic put mine to shame, and it made me wonder how st
rong Iolas’s magic would be, given that he is much older than Amelia.
Cletus’s face was a mask of fury as he stared at Amelia after she threw his men across the room, both of whom had gotten to their feet by now and were shaking themselves off. It was going to take more than that to put these guys down, I realized.
"Get the bitch!" Cletus roared, just as the remaining customers in the room fled and the barman ducked down behind the bar.
At that point, I knew it was time to join the fray. As much as I knew Amelia could probably handle the orcs on her own, I wasn’t about to let her do so. As she jumped forward to meet the first of the oncoming thugs, slamming her fist into his jaw, I jumped up out of my seat and said the words, "Flat Fulgur!" A split second later, a bolt of lightning was loosed from my hand, striking the nearest orc to me. The lightning bolt hit the orc in his massive barrel chest, anchoring him to the spot for a moment as the electricity passed through his whole body, causing him to convulse before dropping to the floor unconscious.
The orc that Amelia punched a moment ago also lay out of it on the floor, which left three other orcs standing, including Cletus. One of them charged at Amelia, but I didn’t have time to witness her response, because the other one charged at me at the same time. I’d had plenty of run-ins with orcs over the years, but their gigantic size still never fails to intimidate me. As the orc started swinging his huge fist at my head, I did my best to avoid his punches, taking advantage of my smaller size to duck underneath them for the most part, at the same time well aware that it would only take one of those punches to knock me into next week, and very probably a damn coma.
This wasn’t my first fight, however, so I had a few tricks up my sleeve that didn’t involve magic, which I didn’t have time to use anyway. When the orc took his next swing, I moved to the side and thrust the flat of my foot into the side of his knee. It was my experience that bigger opponents always had weak joints from carrying all that muscle and bulk. Unfortunately, this didn’t prove to be the case with this orc, who appeared to have joints of steel. As my foot struck, it merely bounced off his leg like I was kicking the trunk of a thousand-year-old oak tree. As I paused for a second in dismay, the orc capitalized on my inaction and quickly reached out to wrap his hand around my throat, which he did easily thanks to his long reach and iron grip.
The next thing I knew I was being lifted off the ground as the orc’s fingers tightened around me, instantly disrupting the vascular pressure in my neck. I had about five seconds until I would be unconscious, and another handful of seconds after that until I was dead. There was no doubt in my mind that the orc would keep on squeezing even after I’d blacked out. His mistake, however, was to hold me in too close to him, which meant could reach him. So before unconsciousness hit, I used my one chance to stab my thumb into his eyeball as hard as I could. When I felt the tip of my thumb hit jelly, I continued to push in harder until it felt like my whole thumb was buried deep in the orc’s wide eye socket. The big bastard screamed in pain and then I found myself dropping to the floor. I took a few seconds to recover as the blood rushed back to my brain, but even before my vision had completely righted itself, I stood up to see the orc standing with both hands over his injured eye.
Let’s see if you have balls of steel as well, I thought as I swung a kick between the orc’s legs, my shin bone connecting with the soft tissue of his genitals, satisfyingly crushing them against his pubic bone. The orc made a noise then that I have never heard anyone make before. It was like the sound of a stuck pig combined with that of a strangled cat, both of whom were on fire.
As the orc sank to his knees, his face a mask of pain, his one eye streaming fluid, I thrust my hand out and hit him in the chest with a bolt of lightning that immediately put him out of his misery.
By now, Amelia had taken down the other orc, which only left Cletus standing, furious and too dumb to back down even though all of his gang lay around him completely out of it.
"Well, Cletus," Amelia said, hardly a hair out of place on her. "What’s it going to be? Are you going to walk out of here, or are you going to end up lying on the floor with your friends?"
I went and stood beside her then. "I’d advise you to take the first option," I said to Cletus.
Cletus smiled then, if you could call what he did a smile, with those tusks and rubbery lips. "How about a third option?" he said, and suddenly reached inside his jacket to pull out a massive gun, which if I’m not mistaken, was a bloody Desert Eagle.
Amelia didn’t flinch when she saw the gun. "Wow," she said. "It’s amazing what you can get on the streets of Dublin these days, isn’t it?"
"This might as well be Detroit or New York with all the guns floating around here now," I said, though I didn’t feel as confident as Amelia about the situation.
Amelia took a step forward. "Do you think you can pull that trigger before I get to you?" she said to Cletus. I realized, after a longer inspection of the gun, that it was a fucking Desert Eagle after all.
Cletus snorted. "I’m happy to try."
Amelia nodded. "Just as long as you know that if you do try, I’m going to take that gun and shove it up your green-skinned ass. Then I’m going to pull the trigger."
I don’t know if it was the adrenaline or not, but I couldn’t keep a small laugh coming from my mouth, which only seemed to wind Cletus up further. He took two steps forward and pointed the gun at Amelia’s head, the huge barrel only inches away from her now. Still, she didn’t seem nervous about it at all, even though she should’ve been. I wasn’t sure if even she was that quick.
"Go ahead, Cletus," she said calmly. "Pull the trigger, and then Iolas will hunt you down and keep you locked in his dungeon for the rest of your miserable life just so he can have you tortured every day. And knowing my uncle, he’ll probably round up every other orc in the city and have them all killed, one by one until there are none of you left." Crazily, she took another step forward until the gun was almost touching her forehead. "Is that what you want, Cletus?"
Cletus looked uncertain now, especially as he knew Amelia was probably telling the truth. There would be no end to Iolas’ wrath if Amelia were to be killed. "It might just be worth it to see you die, bitch," he growled.
"Wrong answer," Amelia said, and in a blur of impossibly fast movement, she suddenly disarmed Cletus of the Desert Eagle, sounding like she had broken his thumb against the trigger guard in the process. She now had the gun pressed tight against Cletus’s forehead, and suddenly the orc didn’t seem so cocky anymore.
"You should’ve listened," I said, just glad the whole debacle was almost over.
"Go ahead," Cletus growled, somewhat softly now. "You think I’m afraid to die?"
"I do actually," Amelia said. When she cocked the hammer on the gun, Cletus’s eyes closed for a second as though he was expecting a bullet in the head.
"Amelia," I said, now thinking she was actually going to shoot the orc. "I think he’s learned his lesson now, don’t you?"
For the first time, Cletus seemed to agree as he glanced at me almost gratefully.
"Fine," Amelia said, lowering the gun finally after another tense moment. "Pick your men up and get out of here, Cletus, and don’t ever let me run into you again. Next time, I won’t be so lenient. Also, I’m keeping your gun."
Cletus tutted and shook his head, seemingly more annoyed over the gun than with his defeat. "You know how hard those things are to get here?"
Amelia shook her head. "Just go. Before I change my mind."
The rest of the orcs had woken up by this stage and were all pulling themselves to their feet, including the one whose eye I gouged. He threw me a dirty look as he walked away, though only with his good eye.
Amelia stood holding the gun until Cletus and his gang had vacated the room, then she turned to look at me and we both smiled at each other, that feeling of aliveness flowing through us that only comes from having survived a close encounter with death. "You can handle yourself rightly," she said. "I
’m impressed."
"Right back at you," I said, unable to take my eyes off her.
She went to the bar and handed the barman the Desert Eagle. Although he was Touched, he still seemed shocked by the events that had taken place in his bar. "Put this away for me, will you, Frank? I’ll pick it up next time. And put any damage on my tab."
Frank nodded and gingerly took the massive gun, holding it for a second like he was expecting it go off, before placing it under the bar.
Outside, just as dusk was settling over the city, we got into the Dodge and Amelia drove down the street a bit before turning up a deserted side street and parking the car. "What are we doing?" I asked her.
Her reply was to suddenly climb on top of me and press her lips hard against mine as she furiously began to kiss me, her hands dropping down to expertly undo my belt and open my trousers.
"I’ll say one thing for you," I said in between kissing her.
"What’s that?" she said breathlessly.
"You sure know how to show a guy a good time…"
Chapter 15
It was almost dark when Amelia dropped me off outside the bookshop. She seemed as cool as ever as she sat with the engine still running, telling me she would be in touch when there was more work to be done, coming across like we didn’t have a wild encounter a mere twenty minutes ago right where I was sitting. I stayed in my seat for a moment, wanting to ask her about Iolas buying up the industrial estate in Damastown, but sensing she probably wouldn’t take too kindly to such questions right now. Besides, I had enjoyed myself and didn’t want to spoil the good vibes between us, so I merely smiled and told her goodbye before exiting the car and watching her screech off up the street.
Still smiling, and with a pleasant buzz throughout my whole body, I unlocked the door to the bookshop and stepped inside.
"Did you enjoy your date?"
I jumped when I heard the voice and switched on the light to see Dalia sitting behind the desk at the back of the shop, her eyes dark and serious looking as she peered out from under a black hoodie. "Jesus, D," I said shaking my head. "I wish you would stop bloody doing that."
