Page 73 of Beer & Broomsticks
“Don’t bother trying to scry, boyo. I’ll be long gone by the time you get here.” Gloating was thick in his father’s voice, and Ruairí suspected Shane spoke true.
Cian had whipped out his phone and was frantically scrolling through pictures the entire conversation. He showed one to Ruairí and Knox.
“Well, look who’s decided to join us. And you brought me exactly what I was planning to ask you for, ya did.” Shane’s comment was loaded with triumph. “You learned to teleport faster than most, Bridget O’Malley.”
As one, they turned toward the stairs, but Ruairí already knew what he’d see… or rather who he’d not see—Bridget. In her place was the Sword of Goibhniu, glowing golden in the firelight. The desire to vomit gripped him so hard he fell to his knees and bowed his head. Finally, he had her complete trust. But while giving him this gift, she’d put herself in Shane’s clutches to save her baby brother, knowing it might cost her own life.
“I’ve no need of you now, boyo!” Shane cackled. “Give Loman my regards when he comes for you.”
* * *
Bridget’s heartwas hammering out of her chest, and she almost missed Shane’s last taunt to Ruairí before he hung up the phone.
“I knew ya were stupid girl, but this… Sure, and this takes the cake, it does.” Shane tossed Eoin’s phone away and stalked toward her. “You realize I’ll not let you walk out of here alive, yeah? I mean, what better way to punish my son for his disloyalty?”
A quick glance to her right showed Eoin, sweaty and covered in blood, or perhaps red paint, it was hard to tell, considering he was an artist. An armed guard was beside him with a gun to his head, and Dubheasa was nowhere to be seen.
His weary, pain-filled eyes met hers, and he shook his head, somehow understanding what she wasn’t asking aloud.
Her relief was palpable, but she didn’t let it show as she faced Ruairí’s father.
“I don’t think I’ll let you kill me today, Shane O’Connor. Neither will Goibhniu. He’s no longer cross since we’ve recovered what your family stole from us.”
Shane’s pale gray eyes narrowed in his displeasure. “Then we’ll kill your brother and be done with it.” His sneer was the stuff of nightmares. Full of hate and rage and everything twisted. They had all believed Loman was the worst brother of the two, but perhaps they’d dismissed Shane too soon.
“Sure, and you could, but then you’d have nothing to trade for your own life,” she said matter-of-factly.
Reluctant amusement removed the hatred from his expression. “You tryin’ to bargain with me, girl?You?”
“This sword for my brother’s life. Simple and fair.”
“Not your own?”
“No.
As Shane stared at her, no doubt trying to figure out the catch, a bead of sweat worked its way down Bridget’s back. The urge to squirm was strong, but she managed to stand still. Not removing her gaze from her enemy, she said, “Eoin, love. I know you’re temperamental and prone to vapors—” her brother snorted his disbelief, and she choked back an inappropriate laugh “—but just close your eyes, yeah? Dream of home. Of the fields beyond our house. Let the sun warm your face as you picture it in your mind.”
Jaysus, she hoped he understood what she was telling him. Explaining exactly how to teleport, so he could get the feck out of there. The glow of their ancient magic was about him, and all he had to do was learn to use it.
She sent him a meaningful glare when he didn’t immediately get it. A small, secretive smile curled his lips, and in a blink, he was gone. Just as she was about to follow him, Shane lunged toward her, screaming, “Kill her!”
Blinding viridescent light shot out from the stone of her amulet, encircling her and creating a glowing green dome, just as the first shot was fired. The bullet ricocheted off her protective barrier and found its way into the forehead of the man who’d fired it.
As the guard’s eyes turned flat and his body dropped to the floor with a hard thud, Shane reached her, his expression rabid as he raised his fists to beat on the dome.
“Yeah, and I’m sorry about your bad luck, O’Connor. Don’t ya hate it when your plans fall to shite?” Goddess, was that her taunting him so coolly?
“Make no mistake, Bridget O’Malley. I’ll slit your throat with the Sword of Goibhniu one day soon,” he promised, and the fire of his fury looked to be burning him alive.
Behind him, Ruairí and Knox appeared, but she didn’t give them away with look or deed. Instead, she laughed. Loud and braying and intended to annoy the devil out of Shane as well as cover any sound the men made. In Ruairí’s hand was the true Sword of Goibhniu, and she wanted to give him the chance he needed to take another playing piece off the O’Malley-O’Connor chess board.
The crackle of Knox’s building energy ball gave them away, and Shane turned just as Ruairí was thrusting his weapon. The blade slid straight into his black heart, exactly as expected when wielded by one with pure intentions—the precise reason she’d left the sword for Ruairí to begin with.
He withdrew the sword and looked down at it in wonder.
Bridget was curious what he thought. Was he expecting to see black ooze in place of the violet-red blood on the metal? Was he horrified he was the one to kill his own father?
Her magical forcefield faded away, and she dove for him, needing to touch him and reassure herself they were both alive and well. He appeared to have a similar urge, and he flung the sword, not caring when it clanked against the chrome stool by Eoin’s counter.
