Chapter 33

Niamh leaned back against a wagon wheel in the darkening night and cursed the fates. She bitterly regretted her decision not to lead the group into the Opari. Jeffery moaned, a dream or nightmare, so she put her arm around him and cuddled him close and he settled down. The little guy seemed to have adopted her, he hadn’t left her side. She carefully didn’t think about that.

The previous evening, she had managed to round up four of the runaway horses and get them back to camp, but the horses had been ridden all day, so they needed rest. It was mid-morning by the time they managed to get two of the biggest horses hitched to the wagon, get the children fed and finally get moving back to town.

Far too late to escape their pursuers.

Riders caught up with them at suppertime. Six men and two Dökkálfar lordlings looming out of the darkness and surprised them.

The subsequent hum of torcs activating suddenly stopped any thought she might have had of resistance to the arrogant beings. Niamh hated the Sidhe, probably she knew, because she always felt helpless in the face of their powerful magic and she really, really hated feeling helpless. It went against everything she had worked for in her life.

The good news was that this group of men were disciplined. The two sidhe lordlings were cold, but not cruel. It was clear that they regarded the kids and herself the same way a human might look at a herd of cows—valuable livestock to be cared for and fed.

They allowed Niamh and the slave woman to feed the children and get them bedded down underneath the wagon. They were all piled under the wagon like a fourteen puppies squirming and muttering complaints--trying to get comfortable.

A big hand covered her mouth and a whisper sounded so close to her ear that it tickled the hair on the back of her neck.

“Hiya Nim.”

F•©king Lachlan Quinn. Her first reaction was to punch him for sneaking up behind her and scaring her. The second was to bite his hand because she knew she’d never hear the end of this. The third was to kiss him for being there.

What she did was say. “What took you so long?”

She felt him shake with soundless laughter as his hands were busy with the torc.

It fell away.

“Hang tight for a minute. Kirk Falstad is right behind me. Wait for my signal. I am going to try to end this so nobody has to die.”

One minute he was there, the next he was gone.

She felt Kirk move up beside her.

“F•©king social worker,” his deep voice whisper-growled. “We should just kill ‘em all and let The Mother sort ‘em out.”

She agreed wholeheartedly, but obeyed Quinn’s directive and silently watched to see what would happen.

So suddenly that it surprised even her. He was standing by the fire reaching down to pour himself a cup of coffee that simmered there.

“Evening all.” Quinn smacked his lips as he tasted the coffee. “I do like me a cup of cowboy coffee. Personally, I like a few eggshells in the pot while brewing, it makes the coffee less bitter.”

As he talked, Niamh quickly stripped and shifted.

The six men sat stunned and stared at Quinn—then cursed and started to get to their feet.

“If I, was you and thanks to the Mother I’m not. I’d sit right back down. I came here with a couple of pissed off shifters, a big f•©king grizzly, and a panther that I’m fairly sure feels the need to tear out a throat or two. Just look over your shoulder there. See her? Now notice that tail twitching, that’s not a sign of nervousness. Nope, that’s eagerness. So again, if I was you, I’d sit back down and not even twitch. But you do what you want.”

He turned to the elves.

“You are a long way from your Clan’s hall elves, I assume you are Erendriel’s vassals. Why are you on this close to Oldtown? It is forbidden.”

“This livestock was promised to us. We take what is ours.”

“Well, that is not going to happen today, O Elf, not today.”

To the watching Niamh, Quinn seemed to change before her eyes. His joking persona morphed into something dangerous and sudden. She noticed that the elves’ lazy arrogance disappeared.

“There is no need for your true death this day. Go back to your clan’s hall.”

Oh Sweet Mother of All, Lan, you’re gonna get yourself killed. No human could stand against a single Sidhe, let alone a pair.

The two lordlings looked at each other and as one drew their black blades and moved, their attacks came so fast they blurred even to Niamh’s keen eyes.

But Quinn was no longer there. Impossibly, he was three feet to one side wielding a shrieking silvery ribbon. There was a blurred flash and the bodies of two Sidhe lordlings lay headless by the fire.

“F•©k me!” Kirk’s voice whispered behind her.

Niamh nodded. It was less a fight than an execution— shockingly quick and then suddenly dead.

Lachlan walked over to the six humans sitting open mouthed by the fire.

“Guys, it’s time for you to move on out of here, don’t you think?”

Pale faced, they stood as one and watching him fearfully, walked out into the night. One started to walk faster, then run—soon they all were running pell-mell out into the dark.

“You stupid bastards. You didn’t have to die.” Quinn was looking down at the two Sidhe lordlings, his face a mixture of regret and anger. “I am so sick of this f•©king shit.”