by Lora Leigh
So now she sat, hands tied behind her, and fought back the shuddering terror that Sean would run headfirst into Zach’s trap and get himself killed. She didn’t have time to fall apart. She needed to be able to think, plan, and fight back.
Zach was planning to kill Sean, and there was absolutely no way she was going to let that happen. She took a long, steadying breath, and forced herself to calm down, look around, and think. Unfortunately, there weren’t any convenient caches of weapons or a telephone handy, because she wasn’t living in a movie. Bruce Willis wasn’t going to yippee-ki-yay his way into the building and save the day, but Sean—the man whom she now realized she loved—was going to try.
She believed in Sean far more than any movie hero, but if she didn’t act fast, he was going to get himself killed.
The stench of mold and garbage permeated the interior of the hulking warehouse where she’d regained consciousness. The building was made of steel and concrete—harder to burn, Zach said—and it had clearly been abandoned years before. Piles of debris hunched in corners, and Brynn was sure the movement she’d seen at the edges of the cracked concrete floor was rats.
Zach took a break from his frantic pacing and followed her gaze.
“Rats! Are you afraid of rats, little girl?” He chortled like a caricature of an evil villain, and all she could do was watch him in disbelief.
“You kidnapped the wrong woman, if you wanted somebody who was afraid of rats,” she said flatly. “Why don’t you let me go, and I’ll help you catch a few of those rats so they can eat your eyes out? Then at least you won’t be able to see to set any more fires.”
He turned his reptilian gaze on her, and she shuddered. “Watch your mouth, you slut. Dropped your pants for O’Malley fast enough, didn’t you? That’s the problem with people today. No morals.”
“You’re an arsonist and a murderer,” she shouted at him. “How dare you speak to me about morals?”
He whirled and threw his hands into the air, hurling a bolt of green smoke at the rats, who squealed and scurried away. They didn’t seem to be hurt, but they weren’t sticking around, either, so Brynn didn’t know how to judge the strength of Zach’s magic.
Before she could say or do anything else, a thunderous roar sounded from just outside the door. Someone was shouting her name, and Brynn realized she was out of time.
Sean had arrived.
The warehouse door blew off its hinges and slammed down to the floor, and a creature she’d only heard about in rumors and fairy tales crashed into the room. Red-hot flames surrounded the shape of a big man, but they didn’t seem to be burning him. The blaze moved with him—part of him—covering him like a second skin. Heat shimmered around his body like a warped version of a halo, and she didn’t need to get any closer to confirm that her first impression had been right.
This was a fire demon in full, raging fury and, if the stories were true, its next move would be to set fire to Zach, Brynn, and everyone else within a half-mile radius of the warehouse. Despair washed through her, and she fought wildly against the rope tying her wrists behind her. She didn’t care if it killed Zach, but she didn’t want to die today, and she really, really didn’t want to burn to death.
She jumped up off the box, but before she could take a single step the demon started running toward her, and she caught sight of its face.
His face.
The fire demon was Sean.
He hadn’t been kidding about secrets.
* * *
Sean saw Brynn hunched over, one side of her face red and swollen, and any hope of restraint shattered. Zach had hurt her, and he was going to die badly. But Brynn was alive. She was alive.
He roared her name again and headed straight for her, not realizing until he saw her face that she might not welcome his approach. That she might be afraid.
Afraid of him.
The flames engulfing him must have malfunctioned in some way, because now they were searing his heart.
Before he could think of something to say to reassure her, he caught sight of movement in the corner and spun around, shielding Brynn with his body, and faced Zach.
“I knew it! I knew you were a fire demon all along, or at least I’ve known ever since I started to practice black magic,” Zach said, smiling crazily.
“You were my friend,” Sean said, low and deadly, rage and pain combining to intensify the flames surrounding him. “Why?”
Zach tilted his head. For an instant, he looked truly bewildered, as if he didn’t understand, either, how he could have turned into such a monster, but then something evil took over and stared at Sean through Zach’s eyes.
“Because I could,” Zach sneered. “You kept blocking me, though. You, with your super hearing and your impervious skin. I wanted that baby to die, because the power I would have gained from sacrificing an innocent would have been incredible, but you had to play the hero and save her.”
The madman who’d once been Sean’s friend raised his hands into the air. “You just wouldn’t leave it alone, would you? So now, you have to die, and then your woman will die. But since she’s not an innocent, she’s going to have to suffer quite a lot of pain first, to make her death worth my while.”
Zach started laughing, and he hurled a wave of greenish-black smoke at Sean. “Goodbye, O’Malley,” he screamed.
Sean braced for the impact of the magical attack, but it didn’t hurt him—not one bit. Instead, the flames coating Sean’s body reached out toward the smoke and greedily sucked it in, dissipating it completely.
As Zach stared at him, dumbfounded, Sean suddenly had an interesting thought about fire demons. Maybe, since nobody knew exactly what they were, nobody knew exactly how to hurt them. Or, at least, maybe Zach didn’t.
“No! No, no, no, no, no,” Zach shrieked, raising his hands for another attack.
“Now it’s my turn,” Sean said, and he instinctively called for an ability he’d only guessed he might possess, and he hurled a blast of scarlet fire.
Zach threw up a magical shield, though, and then he countered with a different kind of magic. This time, the attack smashed Sean back on his heels. Sean whirled around, absorbing the brunt of the attack and then countering with another, more powerful blast of fire that Zach couldn’t deflect.
This one connected.
Zach screamed horribly as he died.
Sean slumped, exhausted and completely drained, and the flames surrounding him subsided and then disappeared completely. He fell to his knees on the cold concrete, shaking hard and unable even to stand up for one more moment, as his body reacted to his first use of his fire-demon powers.
“Brynn,” he croaked, turning to look for her.
But she was gone.
FIFTEEN
Brynn stormed back into the warehouse with her backup in tow, but when she saw the aftermath of the battle, her heart screamed at her that she was too late. Sean, human again and completely naked, lay collapsed on the floor. Zach, or at least what was left of Zach, lay smoldering in a charred heap in the corner.
She ran to Sean, knelt down, and lifted his head onto her lap, tears running down her face.
“An ambulance is on the way, but you’d better wake up right now, Sean O’Malley. You wake up, or I’ll get the moon to put a curse on you, too, and turn you into a—into a pigeon. A fat, stupid pigeon,” she babbled, uncaring that Sean’s brothers were watching her fall apart.
The four of them picked up Sean and Brynn both, ignoring her protests, and carried them out of the stinking building into the clean night air, not stopping until they arrived at a small park across the street and gently set the pair down on the soft grass. Brynn immediately wrapped her arms around Sean again, holding her breath as his eyes slowly opened. She was relieved to see that only a hint of red-orange fire remained in his pupils.
“A pigeon, hmm? Can a swan fall in love with a pigeon, lass? If so, then I won’t be minding so very much,” he said, his Irish lilt pronounced.
“I
don’t know about that, but a swan can fall in love with a fire demon, and I know one who has,” she told him, laughing and crying all at the same time.
She kissed every inch of his face, over and over, until he caught her cheeks in his hands and held her still while he kissed her long and deep, right there on the grass in front of his brothers and, as they arrived, sirens blaring, the entire Bordertown Fire Department, all of whom cheered and made hooting noises.
“I love you, Brynn,” Sean said, gazing into her eyes, and she started crying again.
“I love you, too. Never, ever scare me like that again.”
Oscar took off his shirt and tossed it down over Sean’s hips, laughing.
“Why don’t we cover up the jewels, boyo? And welcome to the family, Brynn. Maybe you can knock some sense into my brother.”
Brynn stared up at the four of them, suddenly realizing that they were hers now. And Kathleen was hers, too. She had a family.
She had a family.
Fresh tears poured down her face.
Sean’s strong arms banded around her, and he murmured into her ear. “Let’s go home, Brynn. My home is yours now.”
At his words, she remembered that her own house had burned to the ground, taking all of her personal possessions with it, but the pain of loss wasn’t nearly strong enough to match the exhilaration soaring through her heart. She’d only lost things. She still had her business, anyway, and—most important of all—Sean was safe.
Sean was safe, and he loved her.
“That’s really terrific red hair. I think you’re going to be a great O’Malley,” one of the brothers said, and the others started laughing.
Brynn’s mouth fell open. Things were suddenly moving very fast. “An O’Malley?”
“Yes,” Sean said firmly. “My O’Malley. Forever.”
SIXTEEN
Three months later
Sean’s mother leaned on his arm as they walked from his car to Black Swan Fountain. She was fading rapidly now, the cancer carrying her away from them and into a world made up of pain and weakness. Too often, he and Brynn, or one of his brothers, would find her staring off into the distance at something—or someone—that only she could see.
“I’ll see your father again soon,” she suddenly said, as he arranged a warm blanket on the cold marble bench for her.
“Mom,” he protested. “You have plenty of time left. Don’t—”
“I don’t, Sean, love, and you know it,” she said gently. “Of all my boys, you were always the most realistic, even though you were the baby.”
“Even though I fell in love with a swan?” He glanced at the fountain, reassuring himself that Brynn was there—safe—although he could already hear her lovely song.
“I fell in love with a fire demon,” his mom replied, smiling a little. “Sean, I want you to know how happy I am that you found your Brynn. She’s strong, and smart, and she loves you with her entire heart. I could never have asked for more for you, my beautiful boy.”
He felt his eyes start to burn, but he smiled for his mother’s sake and put an arm around her frail shoulders.
“A mother’s love is one of the most powerful forces in the world, Sean. I carried you in my body and nurtured you as babies, and then cheered you on to independence as boys, and now I am so proud of you all as grown men. My biggest regret in all of this is that I have to leave you before you come to the next chapters of your stories. I wish I could see your brothers all find love, as you have. I wish I could see you bring your own children into the world and help you raise them.”
He started to protest, but the gentle sadness on her face stopped him. She knew the truth and didn’t want to hear false platitudes. Not now.
“I love Brynn as if she were my own daughter,” his mother said, and he pretended not to see the tears that she tried to hide as they fell slowly down her face. Instead, he looked steadily at the fountain until she’d patted her cheeks dry with a tissue.
“She loves you, too, Mom. One day, when we break this curse, we’re going to have a daughter and name her after you,” he promised, even though it was tough to get the words out past the lump that had lodged itself in his throat.
“Oh, don’t do that,” she said. “Kathleen is so old-fashioned.”
She thought about it for a moment. “Or at least only for a middle name . . .”
They shared a laugh and then sat in silence for a little while, watching Brynn and listening to her beautiful song.
“We’ll find a way to break the curse and bring baby Kathleen into the world, don’t worry,” he said, hoping it was true.
“I have some ideas about that,” his mother said, pulling a piece of paper out of her pocket and handing it to him. “That’s one of the reasons I wanted to talk to you tonight—and here.”
He scanned the paper, which turned out to be a short list of names, one of which he recognized. “Mrs. Mastroianni?”
His mother smiled. “Did you know that Mrs. Mastroianni is a pretty powerful moon witch? We have some thoughts about how to beat this curse . . .”
Her eyes lit up as she explained, and then they sat quietly, sharing the peace and moonlight for what Sean knew might be the very last time. When she grew tired, he gently helped her to his car, and then took her to her house, where the kind and wonderful nurse they’d hired to help with his mother’s personal needs settled her in bed with a cup of herbal tea.
When the nurse indicated that his mother was ready, he went in to say good night.
“I love you, Mom,” he said, kissing her cheek.
“I love you, Sean. Now go on with you and watch over that girl of yours until we can break the curse,” she said, shooing him out with a smile.
* * *
Later that night, peacefully in her sleep, Sean’s mother crossed the silver seas into the heaven in which she’d always believed. A few days later, her sons shared a bottle of fine Irish whiskey at O’Malley’s Pub during her wake—the largest ever held in Bordertown—and agreed among themselves that, if the world held any justice at all, she’d found their father, and the two of them were spending eternity together, loving, laughing, and watching over their boys.
EPILOGUE
One year later
Brynn O’Malley, her husband Sean, and little Maeve Kathleen, snug in her father’s arms, took a walk around Black Swan Fountain at midnight. Maeve was a little fussy, and nothing calmed her like a stroll in the night air.
They’d scattered Sean’s mother’s ashes in the fountain, at her request, and Brynn knew that each of the O’Malley men, at different times and never together, of course, came out here and brought flowers with them. She smiled as she caught sight of a bouquet of lilies wrapped with a gold ribbon.
Yeats had been here recently, then.
“Now, now, love,” Sean said, soothing their daughter. “Hush, my wee lass.”
He sat down on the bench she thought of as “theirs” and glanced up at Brynn. “A bit of help here?”
Brynn laughed to see her big, rough, powerful husband conquered by the tears of a tiny baby. She reached out to take her daughter and cuddled her miraculous, beautiful, wonderful child close to her heart.
“Let me tell you a story, my sweet girl. Once upon a time, more than a thousand years ago, a girl sang to the moon,” she began, looking into the gently glowing red-gold eyes of her husband, the man she would love and cherish forever. “But this is not that story.”
Sean leaned close and kissed her, sweetly lingering until Maeve fussed at them to pay attention to her again.
“Ours is the story of the woman who loved a fire demon,” Brynn continued. “And the man who loved a swan, and how, thanks to your daddy and your grandma, the curse of the black swan will never, ever have anything to do with you.”
SALVAGE
A Tale of the Iron Seas
MELJEAN BROOK
To Cindy, who let me save my brain by writing this story, and who miraculously hasn’t killed me yet.
&n
bsp; ONE
When Georgiana came across her good-for-nothing cheating bastard of a husband washed up on the beach with a bullet in his side, she considered leaving him for dead. Then she wrapped both hands around his iron wrist and dragged him up to the house.
Despite the tiny mechanical bugs that lived inside her body and enhanced her strength, hauling him wasn’t easy. Big Thom, everyone in town called him. Taller and broader than any other man of her acquaintance, her husband deserved the appellation. But Georgiana had other names for him.
Always-Gone Thom. Empty-Hearted Thom. Abandon-Her-Bed Thom.
Not that his cold heart or her bed mattered now. Georgiana’s hopeful expectations for their marriage and her burgeoning love had wilted the first time he’d sailed off and left her alone. All remaining affection had withered to ashes during his most recent absence, which had passed without any communication from her husband—just an occasional bit of money in an envelope stamped with his ship’s seal, and no note to accompany it. Georgiana hadn’t needed the funds, but there had been days when she’d have given anything for a single word from him. Now nothing he ever said could soften her heart toward him again.
If he’d sent even one message, she might have attempted to carry him up the stairs to the seaside entrance of the house. Instead she dragged his body up the steps and listened to the four solid thunks.
One for each year he’d been gone.
* * *
She had lit the stove before setting out on her morning walk. Georgiana usually welcomed the cozy warmth after the brisk ocean air, but while sweating and flushed with exertion, the kitchen seemed stifling and cramped. Her shoulder muscles burning, she pulled Thom through the entrance, leaving a trail of seawater, blood, and sand. Her mother’s hand-knotted rugs slid across the stone floor with him, bunching under his head and shoulders. Her bottom bumped into the table before his boots cleared the door.
