Spear Song

by Tricia O'Malley

  As she was certain he would – men like that always did. Her heart thumping in her chest, Gwen didn’t stop until she was barricaded in her apartment where she could gleefully relive every detail of her first superhero encounter.

  Her life was turning out to be far more exciting than she’d ever anticipated.

  Chapter Six

  Was that someone laughing? Loch wiped water from his face and looked around, glaring, for the offender: one of his brethren, a tall wiry man with a shock of red hair and a grey leather jacket, almost falling down the side of the cliff as his body shook with laughter.

  “Aye, mate, I’m glad I was here to see that.” The man wiped tears from his eyes and Loch felt his lips draw up in a snarl.

  “And why exactly are you here?” Loch asked the fae, his tone even, though he was silently thinking of all the ways he could murder the man.

  “Right, right, about that – the name’s Seamus,” the red-haired fae said, bouncing down the side of the hill and landing easily on his feet before holding out a hand. “Myself and my better half are here to assist you on your quest.”

  Loch eyed the hand in front of him with disdain, but his mother’s manners won out and he clasped it quickly before dropping it.

  “Lochlain.”

  “Aye, sure and I’m knowing who you are. ’Tis a right pleasure to be meeting yourself, it is.” Seamus beamed at him. “I’ve heard many a tale of the great magicks you can wield and your prowess on a battlefield. I was wondering if the next Protector would be more powerful. It seems to me as though the Domnua are ratcheting things up – putting on the pressure, so to speak. Your powers will be right valuable, that’s the truth of it.”

  “I’m not using my powers on this silly quest. It’s beneath me is what it is, nothing but a punishment,” Loch said through gritted teeth, his hands clenching at his sides as he thought about what the goddess was forcing him into. He’d prefer death at this point than to have to deal with the flighty, giggly, irascible… decadent, begging to be unbuttoned… Loch shook his head and focused back on hating his mission instead of the unexpected charms of Miss Gwenith. It wouldn’t do for him to get distracted anyway, seeing as how it would only get her or anyone else around them killed if he did.

  “Sure and I can see how this would seem to be a bit outside your usual realm, but you can’t really argue that saving the entire Danula as well as the human race by keeping the Domnua banished to the underworld is a task befitting just anyone, can you?” Seamus asked, rocking back on his heels and crossing his arms over his chest, a cheeky grin on his face. “I’d say it’s an honor.”

  “I didn’t ask what you’d say.” Loch glowered at him, and then ran a quick spell to dry himself from the remnants of the ice storm Gwen had unleashed upon him. Someone was going to have to set the chit straight, and it looked like it was going to be him. Cursing once again, he turned to go.

  “Hey, where are you going?”

  “It appears I need to teach this Seeker a few lessons,” Loch growled, then almost rolled his eyes when Seamus fell into step next to him, like a puppy following a bigger dog and wanting to play.

  “Might I suggest an attitude change?” Seamus said, and Loch drew to a stop so quickly that Seamus was a few steps ahead before he realized Loch was no longer walking.

  “I’m sorry, but I’m certain I must have misheard you,” Loch said, his tone deadly, his eyes flashing a warning at Seamus.

  “I said, might I suggest an attitude change? This whole tough guy thing is great for battle but you’re going to end up scaring Gwen, not to mention being a bitch to work with on this quest. It’d be easier for everyone if you just calmed down a bit and worked at being a team player – we’re all in this together, after all,” Seamus said, his eyes never leaving Loch’s. He barely flinched when Loch lifted him from the ground with one hand gripped tightly around Seamus’ neck.

  “You don’t speak to me like that,” Loch said, enunciating each word carefully so the simpleton would understand how grievously he’d overstepped his boundaries.

  “And you don’t get to ruin the fate of our world for the sake of your own damn ego,” Seamus said, a faint flush beginning to tinge his cheeks.

  Loch knew the man was struggling to breathe. Cursing, he put Seamus on his feet and turned to stare out across the water, his look impenetrable, much like the smooth surface of the water. But beneath the calm veneer, rage boiled.

  Damn it, but the man was right. And there was nothing Loch hated more than admitting that someone else was right.

  “Fine,” Loch said, turning to Seamus, who stood studying him. “I’ll work on my delivery. Is that better?”

  “You’re still scary as shite, but yeah, it’s a mite less frightening if you tone it down a bit. Now, we’d best go find my lovely woman so we can spend a little time debriefing you on what’s happened before you go off and scare the piss out of Gwen again.”

  “She didn’t seem all that scared of me,” Loch said, as he and Seamus climbed the hill.

  “That’s what I like about her – much like me own Bianca. I love a lass with spirit,” Seamus said, his voice cheerful again. Loch had to admire that the man had taken his little display of temper in stride and hadn’t batted an eye at being almost choked to death. Perhaps he would be a good asset on the journey.

  “Women are nothing but trouble,” Loch bit out.

  “The best kind of trouble, my friend, only the best kind.”

  Chapter Seven

  Gwen bounced around the room, sending Macgregor running, as she clapped her hands in front of her face, trying to hold back the hysterical giggles that threatened to overtake her.

  “Oh but Macgregor – if only you’d seen him!” Gwen patted her cheeks, which she could feel were afire with excitement. “He was like every superhero I’ve ever read about. Or even more than that – I swear, in a comic book we wouldn’t even be sure if he was the good guy or the bad guy. Had he come up to me first instead of the silver one, well, shoot, I would have thought he was the bad guy.”

  Gwen twirled around the room, almost manic with delight. Not only did she have magickal powers, but she’d met others with powers as well. Granted, one of them had tried to kill her, but that was just a minor detail. Everyone knew that wielding power came with some downsides.

  “With great power comes great responsibility,” Gwen intoned, quoting Spiderman to Macgregor, who just rolled onto his back to look up at her.

  “I’m telling you, Mac, he was gorgeous with a capital G. The kind of man women dream of,” Gwen said. Mac rolled again, cocking his head as if he were actually listening.

  Gwen pulled off her cardigan and danced her way across the living room – nothing more than a small one-bedroom apartment. And that was using the word ‘bedroom’ loosely, Gwen thought as she tossed the cardigan on her double bed, which took up almost the entirety of the room. A single bed would have made more sense, but she loved being able to stretch out and snuggle into her pillows. There was nothing she loved more than curling up on a rainy evening with a favorite book. No, her bedroom was a sanctuary for her, and she’d been right to buy the double bed.

  Gwen hummed as she hung her cardigan back up in the teeny closet in the corner of the room, and quickly changed from her Star Wars t-shirt into a vintage long-sleeved Wonder Woman one. Singing, she bustled around her apartment with Macgregor two steps behind her, waiting for his nightly snack.

  “Oh, Mac, I swear this has just been the best day. I all but swooned when I saw Loch. I mean, he saved my life and he’s handsome as sin? It’s hard not to feel my heart go aflutter at that.” Gwen laughed at herself. “But honestly, guys like him never look twice at girls like me. And that’s just fine, isn’t it? Because you and I both know he is nothing but trouble. And I do mean trooouble.”

  Macgregor meowed at her as if he agreed, and Gwen chuckled, stepping to her tiny kitchenette and pulling out a tin of his favorite wet food. As he wound himself between her legs, desperate fo
r his snack, Gwen chattered on about her amazing experience with Loch and how she’d even used her power in a way she hadn’t known was possible.

  She paused. He had called her stupid, which was annoying – and he’d insulted her shop. If she ever met him again, she was certain he would think twice about repeating the same mistake. Gwen laughed, remembering the surprise on his face when she’d coated him in ice. It had been nothing but an instinctive response – but he’d deserved it, the silly man. Someone had to teach men like that a lesson. It was best he learned that he couldn’t just say whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted.

  “I’m telling you, Mac, this is a real-life comic book. I’d say fairy-tale, but there’s no romance to be found here.” Gwen chuckled once more. It was oddly comforting knowing that she wouldn’t have a man like Loch pursuing her. Not only was she confident that he didn’t go for women like her, but she was well aware that she wouldn’t know the first thing to do if a man like that did turn an eye on her.

  “It sure is fun to look though,” Gwen said, then blew Mac a kiss as she locked up to go to dinner at her gran’s. There was nothing wrong with looking – or even appreciating a finely built man – so long as she didn’t expect anything from it.

  Gwen had learned long ago that expectations were the death of dreams.

  And she was never going to stop dreaming.

  Chapter Eight

  The little village hummed with energy and light, even on a Monday, and it was part of the reason that Gwen found it so hard to leave this place. And what for? She had all she needed, right in this little town, and nights like this showcased why it was such a great place to live.

  She waved at people as she wandered up the street, her head in the clouds, her smile automatic for those who called to her by name.

  Pausing at the small bookstore, she poked her head in.

  “Anything new, Agnes?” Gwen called.

  “Shipment’s in tomorrow, Gwennie. I’ll be letting you know if I’ve got anything good for you.” Agnes waved from the back, never lowering the book she held in front of her face.

  “Thanks, Love,” Gwen called back, and decided to detour to the bakery and see if they had any of the baguettes her gran so loved to serve. In no time at all, Gwen was out of the shop and on her way. Whistling, her arms full of bread and the cookies she couldn’t bring herself to resist, Gwen paused at the top of the hill to turn and admire her village. The sun was just setting, its rays casting a golden balm across the houses and shops nestled into the hillside on the water; lights twinkled out of homes where mothers yelled at children to wash up before dinner, and the first strains of a music session tinkled out from the open door of a pub.

  Yes, it was a good place to live. City life wasn’t for her; she’d learned that fairly quickly after she’d tried a year at uni in Dublin. The hustle and bustle, the sharp edges of people’s attitudes, the lack of open green space – it had been enough to set Gwen on edge. And she wasn’t someone who liked to be on edge. When she’d found herself having yet another argument with her flatmate, she’d thrown in the towel and come home. Gwen hated fighting about as much as she hated the concrete jungle of Dublin. It was only when she’d returned back to the village and seen the little shop for sale that she knew what she wanted to do with her life.

  And the rest, as they say, is history.

  Or so she’d thought. Gwen smiled and continued up the hill toward her gran’s house, tucked away at the end of a street. Wasn’t that always the way of things, then? As soon as you thought you had things figured out, life threw you a plot twist, Gwen thought, cheerful as ever. It wasn’t that she didn’t like her life… but perhaps it had grown a wee bit stagnant. That’s why this new development was so delightful. It was like her life was already a delicious scone, and finding out she had magickal powers was akin to adding cinnamon sugar butter to the top of it.

  Satisfied with her metaphor, Gwen continued to her gran’s house, her head in the clouds, unaware of the odd stillness that had pervaded the street.

  Had she been more alert, she would have noticed the three men leaning against a wall of the alley, their eyes tracking her every move. Instead, she breezed right past, contemplating new ways to use her magick, when the hair at the back of her neck stood up. Ducking instinctively, Gwen gaped at the knife sticking out of the wall where her head had just been.

  The bakery bag dropped from her arms as she whirled to find three of the silvery men coming at her fast. Not knowing where to look or what to do, Gwen gasped as one landed a hard left to her stomach. Forcing herself not to recoil – she knew that doing so would mean death – Gwen sucked in air as she staggered a step back, her arms coming in front of her.

  “I’d suggest you back off. I know tae kwon do,” Gwen said, lying through her teeth. The silver men circled, saying nothing, their eyes following her every movement. When one darted at her, Gwen did the only thing she could think of.

  She iced him.

  Gwen squeaked as he shattered into thousands of silver shards. It was like watching a rock come sailing through a glass window and disintegrating before her eyes. Barely having time to register what had just happened, she squeaked again as a blur of movement – black leather movement this time – quickly made silver puddles of the other two men.

  “Uh, you’re back,” Gwen said. Her heart hitched a bit as she trailed her eyes up all that leather to the furious face of Loch glaring down at her.

  “Aye, against my will, I’m back,” Loch said.

  “Well, excuse me, but I don’t know who you are or what you want. Nobody is forcing you to be here. You can just go on your merry way,” Gwen said, surprising herself with how rude she was being to him. Hadn’t the man just saved her? But it seemed as though being around him made her want to spit nails – which was about as far away from Gwen’s typical demeanor as she could get.

  Schooling her face into a pleasant smile, she channeled her gran’s company manners. “I’m sorry. That was rude of me. Thank you very much for your assistance. I wish you luck on your journey, wherever that may take you. I’m certain I can handle any of…” Gwen waved her hand at the last dredges of silver liquid slipping into the earth. “Whatever this is.”

  Loch stepped close, his nearness forcing her to take one step back, then two, until her back was pressed to the wall where the knife was still embedded. He reached over her shoulder and easily slipped the knife from the wood, wiping it absently on his leathers before slipping it in his waistband. Gwen tried not to look when he lifted his shirt, but she was human, wasn’t she? And the glimpse of tanned muscular abs would have made any woman sigh.

  “Eyes up here,” Loch said.

  Gwen started, embarrassed to have been caught staring. The smirk on his face was enough to get her temper rising.

  “Then don’t be swaggering in here and flashing me all that skin. A girl can look, you know,” she sputtered.

  Loch’s face became even more unreadable, if such a thing was possible.

  “I don’t swagger.”

  “You most certainly do swagger. I know a swagger when I see one – and you swagger. Your overbearing king-of-the-world act is unnecessary,” Gwen bit out, still pressed against the wall, her body but mere inches from his. Was it him radiating all that warmth? Or perhaps it was just the adrenaline coursing through her from the recent attack of those… things.

  “Seamus warned me about this,” Loch sighed, raking a hand through his hair.

  “Seamus is…?”

  “Danula, like myself. Good fae. And what you just killed there was a Domnua. The bad fae, if you will,” Loch said, shaking his head at her.

  A rushing sound seemed to fill Gwen’s ears, drowning out the rest of what he said. All she heard was the word ‘fae.’ As in fairies. The fae were real? Her mind flashed to her gran’s stories about how she had grown up. Nothing but nonsense, Gwen had always thought, but had contented herself with enjoying the stories. ‘Gwen who dances with fairies.’ It had a nonsensical ri
ng to it, and she’d never pressed her gran too much on stories of her real parents. Why would she? It was obviously a difficult thing for Gran to talk about, and the last thing Gwen ever wanted to do was to hurt those she loved.

  But now? This – well, this was too much. It was time to have a talk with Gran about the ‘dancing with fairies’ story.

  She surprised even herself when she pushed Loch away – hard enough to have him take a half-step back – before slipping under his arm.

  “I have to go.”

  “Gwen, we need to talk.”

  “I’m not ready to talk to you right now,” Gwen said, her nose in the air. Then she stopped short – he was suddenly in front of her, blocking her movement, but a whisper of air, he’d moved so fast.

  “You don’t have a say in the matter,” Loch said.

  Gwen raised a finger, pointing it right at his face – as rude as she’d ever been. “I do have a say in the matter. You don’t own me, you don’t control me, and you don’t get to tell me what to do. Now get the hell out of my way. I’ll talk to you when I’m good and ready to talk to you,” she hissed, alarmed at herself. Who was this woman? Not a single person who knew her had ever heard her speak like this – not even her old flatmate in Dublin.

  “That’s fine, Gwen who dances with fairies,” Loch said, a dangerous smile slipping over his face at her enraged expression, “Let me know when you’re ready to dance.”

  Gwen gaped at him as he strolled away as if he had not a care in the world.