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Here I thought my number one enemy was Alisdair MacLeod.

"Yer in the midst of a clan gathering, yeolach," Kieran tells Fulvio.Yeah, that's the Gaelic word for a eunuch."Go back to whence you came before the might of twelve clans rips you to shreds."

"Twelve clans, huh?"he scoffs."And how many of them have guns, old man?"

I swear I can feel the tension in the air ratcheting up another notch.The Scots may not know exactly what guns are, but they can sense the danger.I hear the soft rasp of steel as more swords are drawn from their scabbards.

"Give it up," I say, trying to keep my voice calm."You've made your point, Fulvio.You found me.But this isn't New York.You can't just start a firefight here without consequences."

"Oh yeah?"Fulvio challenges."What consequences?These barbarians wouldn't know a Glock from an AK-47."

He and his buddies chuckle derisively.What jackasses.

More men from the twelve clans have joined our group, forming a wall of plaid and steel.

I feel a shift in the air, a sudden chill that has nothing to do with the Highland breeze.The hairs at my nape lift, and I catch a glimpse of movement from the corner of my eye.Rachel.She steps forward, her eyes blazing with an otherworldly light.The air seems to shimmer, and I swear I can hear the faint whisper of ancient words carried on the wind.

"Ye bring strange magic to our lands," she says, her voice resonating with power."But ye forget, this is our home.Our magic runs deep in the very soil beneath yer feet."

Fulvio's smug expression falters for a moment as he takes in Rachel's appearance.I can see the doubt creeping into his eyes, the first flicker of uncertainty.

"What the hell is this?"he mutters, his gun wavering slightly.

The earth beneath me trembles beneath my feet.The ground seems to ripple, like waves on a loch, and a low rumble echoes through the glen.Fulvio and his goons stumble, struggling to keep their balance.

"What the fuck?"one of them shouts, his eyes wide with panic.

I watch in awe as tendrils of mist rise from the earth, coiling around the mobsters' legs.The fog thickens rapidly, obscuring their lower bodies and creeping upward.Fulvio fires his gun wildly, the shots echoing across the hills, but the bullets seem to dissolve into the mist harmlessly.

"Rachel," I whisper, "what are you doing?"

She doesn't answer, her eyes glowing an eerie blue as she continues to chant under her breath.The mist swirls higher, now reaching the mobsters' chests.They're shouting in panic, flailing their arms and trying to wade through the thick fog, but it's like quicksand, holding them in place.

"Finnegan!"Fulvio screams, his face contorted with rage and fear."Make it stop!"

I wish I could, but I'm just as bewildered as he is.I observe while Rachel weaves her spell, her expression a mask of concentration.The air crackles with energy, and I swear I can see faint, glowing symbols swirling around her.

Kieran strides forward, his sword gleaming in the strange, misty light."Ye've brought yer fight to the wrong place, laddies.Highlanders dinnae take kindly to intruders."

The mist continues to rise, now engulfing the mobsters completely.Their muffled shouts fade as they disappear into the swirling fog.I watch, transfixed, as the mist begins to coalesce, forming distinct shapes.To my astonishment, the fog transforms into towering, humanoid figures---misty giants looming over us all.

"Holy shit," I blurt out, unable to tear my focus away from the spectacle.

Rachel's voice rings out, clear and commanding."Guardians of the glen, protectors of our people, I call upon ye to banish these intruders from our lands!"

"Wait!"I shout, as a sudden thought strikes me."Rachel, we need to know how they got here!We can't just send them back without---"

Before I can finish that thought, the mist creatures evaporate.

The enforcer and his pals wear stark expressions.None of them has ever seen magic before, I'm sure.They still hold their guns, but they seem incapable of moving or speaking.Their shock wears off too quickly, though.

Fulvio nods to one of his goons.

While the rest of us are still reeling, he snatches Lachina away from her family and holds his gun to her temple."Touch any of us and this old hag will get a bullet in her brain."

Old hag?Lachina is fifty-three.That might be old in the medieval world, but Fulvio's from the twenty-first century.Besides, Lachina is pretty and looks half her age.

I raise my dirk at Fulvio."We've got more swords and knives than you've got guns.Twelve clans, remember?"