by Janni Nell
Niamh put Aedan’s drink on the counter. When he paid for it, their hands touched. He blushed. She didn’t seem to notice the touch or the blush. When he picked up his glass, liquid slopped over the side onto the bar.
“Sorry,” he said.
“No harm done,” said Niamh wiping the counter.
His blush deepened. I’d better get him away from her before his face combusted.
“Want to join us, Aedan?” I asked.
He shot a glance at Niamh as though he’d much rather join her—even if she was working. I took hold of his arm, “Come on,” and guided him to our table.
He pulled out a chair, which looked kind of rickety. I opened my mouth to warn him, but he was already sitting. The chair leg snapped with a loud crack. I caught him before he hit the floor.
“I’m such an eejit,” said Aedan, swapping chairs and testing the legs before he sat again. “No wonder they call me unlucky.”
Looking for hope in a hopeless situation, I asked, “Have you always been—um—luck challenged? Even when you were a kid?”
“Nah.” Aha, maybe there was light at the end of the tunnel. “For a while I was like all the other kids. Then me mum died in that freak haystack accident.”
“What about your dad?”
“Killed a month later by a runaway sheep.”
“Brothers and sisters?”
“I’m an only child.”
And the object of his affections—I hoped she wasn’t the love of his life—was currently flirting with another customer. Maybe I could use a wish to improve Aedan’s luck. But Padraig had warned not to make my wishes too lavish.
Aedan glanced anxiously at Casper. “Is your friend okay?”
Casper had slumped right over until his forehead was resting on the table. I said, “He’s just tired. He’ll be fine.” What I thought was that I’d better get Casper back to Ronan’s. I wondered whether Ronan would mind me bringing Casper back for a sleepover. Considering Ronan’s condition last time I saw him, he probably wouldn’t notice. What was it with me and unconscious men? Was it something in my stars?
This week, with your moon in Venus, you’ll pack a punch in the love stakes. Men will be knocked out by your charming personality.
Aedan took another large swallow from his glass, leaving an orangey moustache on his upper lip. Niamh, who had few customers besides us, chose that moment to cross the room and collect our empties. Aedan looked at her longingly. Before I could hand him a napkin to wipe his lip, he turned to her and smiled. Even worse than his orangey moustache were the poppy seeds stuck between his front teeth. I wanted to stop time. Rewind. Give him some dental floss and a napkin to wipe his face. But even Padraig’s wishes couldn’t stop time.
Before Aedan could make things worse, I shot to my feet, stepped between him and Niamh, and asked him to help me get Casper home.
“No problem,” Aedan said, eager to help. We each got an arm around Casper. On my count of three we hefted him to his feet. Aedan was stronger than I’d expected and supported more than his fair share of Casper’s weight. As we crossed the stained carpet, Niamh hurried to open the door for us.
I hardly noticed the volley of raindrops. All my attention was focused on getting Casper home and into bed before the Powers-That-Be got wind of his condition and whisked him away from me for all eternity. Despite Aedan’s help, it took forever to walk Casper a few steps. We’d be lucky to reach Ronan’s by morning.
“This isn’t going to work,” I said. “Time for Plan B.”
We eased Casper to the ground, leaning his back against the wall of the pub. Aedan sat beside him, supporting him while I jogged back to Ronan’s to get the car. Soon I had returned and parked outside the pub. This time it was easier. We only had to carry Casper’s deadweight a few paces to the open car door. We almost had him in the passenger seat when the sound of hoof beats filled the air. A wild whinny split the night. The pooka galloped down the main street, snorting and tossing its mane.
“Shit,” I muttered.
Aedan said, “Drive your friend home. I’ll get rid of the pooka.”
But the pooka had other ideas. “Allegra Mabel Fairweather, I call you to ride.”
“Not again,” I groaned. Although I shouldn’t have been surprised. The pooka was bound to be pissed off after I’d dug up Sharina’s grave.
“Make sure Casper is secure,” I told Aedan. “Buckle his seatbelt.”
I strode into the middle of the road and faced the pooka. Fairy shapeshifter my ass, he looked more like a demon from the seventh circle of hell. He reared up and pawed the air. His hoofs crashed to the road showering me with sparks. The wish-pebbles rattled in my pocket. Okay they weren’t supposed to work on the Fae, but it was worth a shot. I dug both pebbles from my pocket and held them high. The pooka cocked its head. Curious.
I yelled, “I wish that you will never harm another human or destroy human property.”
His lips stretched in an evil grin. “Leprechaun’s wishes don’t work on me.”
“Bugger.”
“Allegra Mabel Fairweather, I call you to ride. This time there’ll be no mercy.”
“Oh, lose the melodrama,” I snapped, returning the pebbles to my pocket. Then, making a supreme effort to be reasonable, “Look, I know Sharina Levara was your mom. It’s hard to lose a parent. My dad disappeared when I was fifteen. But here’s the thing. Calling innocent people to ride won’t bring your mom back. Hurting humans won’t stop your hurt.” I took a step forward. “I want to help you. Come on, talk to me, we can resolve this. What do you want?”
“I want you to die.”
Right, so we were clear on that. Shame he wasn’t going to get his wish. Forcing my voice into a soothing tone, I said, “I’m really sorry about what happened to your mom, and though I can’t bring her back, maybe I can find your father.”
The pooka went crazy. His eyes glowed like a lighthouse on steroids. Streams of flame shot from his nostrils. I put an arm up to shield my face. When I smelled singed hair, I gave up and leaped for cover behind a stone wall.
From the safety of my hiding place, I yelled, “Listen, I’m just a dumb PI, help me out here. What’s the problem with your dad? Why don’t you want to find him?”
“If he gave a feck, he would’ve found me.”
How many times had I thought that about my own dad? Under other circumstances I’d buy the pooka a drink and we could have a good old whine about absent fathers. However, in the interests of stopping the pooka’s reign of terror, I tried to justify the unjustifiable. “Maybe your dad couldn’t come looking for you. Maybe he was in prison or something.”
“So now I’m the son of a criminal. Sure, you’re a world of comfort, Allegra Fairweather.”
“Well, maybe not prison. Maybe he’s on a secret government mission.” Okay, not my best work, but I was tired. I’d had a couple of drinks.
The pooka didn’t cut me any slack. “You’re an eejit, Allegra Fairweather.”
I peeped over the wall. The pooka pawed the ground and snorted like a bull preparing to charge. Those lethal hoofs could collapse my stone wall in seconds. I gave it one last shot.
“We can work this out. Shift into another body—something less animal—and let’s talk. We can go in the pub. I’ll buy you a Guinness.” Tempting a kid with alcohol—even if he was a pooka—was wrong on so many levels. But my only regret was that it didn’t produce the desired result.
The pooka lowered its head and charged. I leaped over the wall and sprinted past it in the opposite direction. It saw me heading for the car. Turning on a dime, it came after me. I ran fast, but the pooka ran faster. He crashed into me, hard. I lost balance and fell on my ass. The pooka reared over me, hoofs working like he was practicing for the Tour de France. I rolled, narrowly avoiding a vicious kick, and jumped to my feet.
Aedan saw what was happening and rushed at the pooka waving his hands, trying to distract him. The pooka unleashed its fury on Unlucky Aedan, who took the full we
ight of the pooka’s hoofs on his chest and fell backward. Winded and pale, Aedan rolled onto his hands and knees and tried to stand. No chance. He collapsed face down on the tarmac and lay still.
Now I was really angry. I swung my left fist into the pooka’s side. He whinnied and shot a blow-torch of fame at me. I dodged, ducked under his head and came up on his other side to land a right on his jaw. His head snapped back. He staggered as though he’d just come from a session in the pub.
“You hurt me.” The voice was still deep, but the tone was childlike, confused. Had nobody stood up to him before? Maybe not, but I wasn’t ready to cut him any slack.
I pointed at Aedan’s unmoving body. “This is murder.”
The pooka wobbled on his four legs. He stared at Aedan with what appeared to be concern. “He’s not dead. He’s still breathing.”
“You sure about that?”
“No.” His voice trembled.
“So, you ready to talk or do you want some more?” I raised my fist. The pooka flinched. He stifled a sob. His eyes lost their ferocity and became more like a frightened child’s.
“Liam?” I whispered. The pooka backed away, eyes wide, nostrils flared in panic. He about-faced and galloped from the village. I switched my attention to Aedan’s crumpled form. Yep, he was still breathing. Even better, Niamh had left the safety of the pub and was bending over him.
“Call Dr. Gallagher,” I yelled to her and dashed off in the direction of Liam’s house. Much as I hated to leave Aedan, I had to go. I had a small window of opportunity to prove that Liam and the pooka were one and the same.
The O’Reillys’ house wasn’t far. I hammered on the door. His dad, who might not be his dad if Liam was a changeling, opened the door. He didn’t look like your stereotypical accountant. He didn’t look like Liam, either, with his sandy hair and huge shoulders. He wouldn’t have been out of place on a rugby field.
“Is Liam home?” I yelled.
Startled, he stepped backward. Who was the crazy woman at his door?
“I need to know where Liam is. Now!”
“Why? What’s your business with my son? Who are you?”
A small voice piped up behind Mr. O’Reilly. “Allegra?”
“Liam?” Could he have shifted into a kid’s body and got back here before me? Unlikely, but not impossible.
“Have you been here all night, Liam?” I asked.
Mr. O’Reilly interrupted. “What’s this about? What’s Liam done?”
Ignoring him, I asked Liam again, “Have you been here all night?”
“Yes.”
Mr. O’Reilly said, “I can confirm he’s been here since he got home from school. Whoever you’re looking for it isn’t my son.”
Liam met my eyes. “What’s up? Is it the eagle again?”
Heels clacked on the floorboards. Mrs. O’Reilly marched past Liam and stood beside her husband. “This is the paranormal investigator I was telling you about. Don’t talk to her.”
“Right,” he said, and shut the door in my face.
I was tempted to hammer on the wood until they opened up again, but what good would that do? I’d already got the information I wanted. Liam wasn’t the pooka. I swore and kicked the ground. Maybe I trampled one of the O’Reillys’ flowerbeds, but the less said about that the better.
I jogged back to the Black Shamrock. Dr. Gallagher was kneeling beside Aedan, who had managed to sit up. There was fresh blood on his head bandage, and he had new bruises to add to his collection.
Dr. Gallagher was as sure as he could be that Aedan hadn’t broken any bones, but he’d send him for X-rays in the morning just to be sure. Meanwhile he insisted on Aedan staying with him overnight for observation. We helped Aedan into the doctor’s car.
As they drove away, Niamh looked after the car and murmured almost to herself, “Aedan was really brave to stand up to the pooka. I didn’t think he had it in him.”
I left Niamh musing on Aedan’s courage and checked on Casper, who had remained in my passenger seat the whole time. I got in beside him and started the car. As I drove to Ronan’s, he stirred and murmured, “I had a dream the pooka attacked.”
“It wasn’t a dream.”
He attempted a smile. “So I missed all the excitement.”
“Don’t be too disappointed. I’m sure the pooka will stage a repeat performance.”
He sighed, but whether at the prospect of the pooka’s reappearance or his own weakened condition I couldn’t tell.
“Pull over,” he said. “You can let me out here.”
“Right, and where will you sleep?”
“In a field.”
“You’re not sleeping out tonight. It’s too cold.”
His laugh was as thin as my T-shirt. “It’s summer.”
“Not in my world.”
“You forget I was a warrior. We slept in the snow.”
I was sure he didn’t mean that literally. “Come on, you can stay at Ronan’s place. He won’t mind.” Turned out he wouldn’t even know. He’d taken himself to bed, leaving the now-empty whiskey bottle on the living room floor. I led Casper down the hall to my room.
“You’ll have to sleep in my bed,” I said. “Hope you don’t mind.”
Once Casper would’ve protested that the Powers-That-Be would object, but he was beyond that now. He sat on the edge of my bed and passed a hand over his dark-circled eyes. The lids closed and he fell sideways. He was asleep before his head hit the pillow.
He hadn’t had time to undress, which left me in kind of a dilemma. Should I remove his clothes? Well, it was a no-brainer wasn’t it?
His T-shirt was speckled with raindrops. I drew it over his head, revealing his chest and shoulders, which didn’t seem as broad as usual. Was it my imagination or had he lost muscle tone? Since I’d known him, his body had remained the way it was on the day he died, but not anymore. I didn’t much like this new development, although I couldn’t deny that I still found him totally hot. I reached for the waistband of his jeans and unzipped the fly, revealing black jocks.
After removing his shoes, I took hold of the legs of his jeans and tugged until they slid down over his hips. I yanked them off and dumped them on the floor. I was tempted to remove his jocks as well, but, though it took all my self-control, I resisted. Maybe I was belatedly developing a moral compass, but it didn’t seem right to peek at Casper’s bits when he was unconscious. After dragging the covers over him, I put on my pajamas, switched off the light and lay down beside him. I stared at the ceiling, all too aware of the body beside me. I ached to hold him, to protect him from all the bad things lurking in the shadows.
The ache in my heart grew until it could no longer be denied. He was lying on his side, facing away from me. I moved closer until I touched the warm skin of his back. I snaked my arm around his body and rested my hand on his chest. The hairs were fine and soft beneath my fingers. I wriggled closer, spooning him, my front pressed along his back. I inhaled his scent of mountain streams, rugged earth and hot male warrior. I pressed my lips to the skin of his back. It was sweeter than my sweetest dreams.
Chapter Eight
I’d been awake since dawn. Mostly watching Casper sleep. It was a shock every time I noticed how pale and drawn his face had become.
Around seven o’clock I got restless and climbed out of bed. After swapping my pajamas for jeans and a T-shirt, I watched the sun climb the pale blue sky. Soaking up the rays through the east window, I stretched and loosened my muscles. Behind me Casper sighed. I turned.
He was awake, watching me, his weight supported on one elbow. The covers pooled around his waist. His bed-hair stuck out at all angles. I wanted to hug him.
“Thinking about the case?” he asked.
“Always.” Even when those thoughts weren’t exactly conscious. “Dermot told me Levara is the name of the Fae royal family. It can’t be used by commoners. Ever. Who knew?”
“How does that impact the case?”
“Not sure yet. But
we know the body in the grave is Fae, and that being buried in our world means she was banished. What we don’t know is why. Dermot likes the idea of murder, but I’m not so sure.”
“Murder is the most serious crime in most cultures,” he agreed. “But how important is that information to your case? Does it matter why she was banished? You were hired to stop the pooka, not solve a murder mystery.”
“At first I thought the key to stopping him was discovering his identity. I was convinced he was Liam. Last night I proved that wasn’t true. Obviously discovering the pooka’s identity is still important, but that alone won’t stop him. Last night, when I looked in his eyes I saw a scared kid. His mom is dead. Where is his dad? That’s the key. Reuniting the pooka and his father is the way forward.”
“Pookas are crude-fairies like leprechauns and elves,” mused Casper. “As a member of the royal family, Sharina would have been pureblood.”
“That’s right. And if a pureblood Fae mates with another pureblood they’ll always produce a pureblood child. No exceptions. But to produce a crude-fairy child like the pooka, Sharina must’ve had an affair with a human or a crude-fairy. Not Dermot, obviously, but...” The name Padraig O’Shaunnessy sprang to mind. Maybe Sharina had a thing for green smoke.
“Got a date with a leprechaun.” I grabbed the car keys in one hand and my shoes in the other. When Casper started to get out of bed, I said, “Stay where you are. I won’t be long.”
Leprechauns are territorial. Once they put down roots in a place, they rarely move on. Lucky for me. I found Padraig by a combination of itching toe and the smell of his pipe.
He was humming to himself as he hammered tiny nails into the sole of a shoe that appeared to be made of glass. Impossible, since the nails would’ve broken it in a second. It must have been some kind of whizz-bang plastic the Fae had patented. The mate of the shoe he was hammering was perched on a flat-topped rock near his workbench. He was so involved in his work, he seemed oblivious to the outside world, including me, which was just how I wanted it. I dropped to my knees and crawled over the dew-damp grass to the flat-topped rock. Keeping out of sight, I snaked my hand up and over feeling around until I touched the shoe.
