Vlad’s Boys had proved that they had vast power at their disposal. The power to flummox my father, Brian the Brave. The power to shut down two towns.
So what were they going to do with all of that power?
And that wasn’t my only worry. By sunset tonight, Greg would be a full-on vampire. Sure, I’d be on hand with my sióga blood to turn him back, but something about this scenario was worrying Pru, and worrying her deeply. And if my future-seeing, mind-reading, super-powerful friend was worried, then I was terrified.
‘You should smile,’ said Fuzz, looking up at me from the bed. ‘Or at least stop thinking so much. You look constipated when you’re thinking.’
Dylan chuckled, walking barefoot into the room with two coffees in his hands. ‘I wouldn’t say constipated, but you definitely look troubled, Ash.’
I turned to face him. ‘How can I not be? Y’know, I thought Ron Montague’s biggest faults were being a womanising piece of crap and a tuna thief, but it turns out he’s even worse than I thought. He founded two of the most horrific hate groups in supernatural history. Because of him, we could have to face Vlad’s Boys again, and we have no idea when. Aren’t you troubled?’
He shrugged his shoulders. ‘A little, but I think we’ll get through it. You and I seem to face life-threatening danger every other month. But we always come out the other side, don’t we?’
I took my coffee and gratefully sipped. ‘This is yummy, thanks. But … when did the moaniest man in Ireland become so positive?’
He pressed a kiss to my forehead. ‘When I figured that if we were ever going to make this relationship work, only one of us could be moany at a time.’ He pulled away, looking me in the eye. ‘And just so you know, I’m no Ron Montague. I’ll never mess you around.’
‘I know that, dummy. But … right back at ya.’
He let out a snort of laughter. ‘You’re the least romantic woman I know, do you know that? I’m afraid to tell you I love you in case all I get is “Ditto” in return.’
‘Ah,’ I said, ‘but you already did tell me, back on the Riddler’s Express after you took the cure, when you gave me the key to the lighthouse.’
His face coloured. ‘I did, didn’t I? Crumbs.’
‘Who says crumbs?’
‘Who says criminy? Let me try out something new, will you? All right then, I’ll say it again, even if you’re too stubborn to say it back. I love you, Aisling Smith, daughter of Abby Albright and Brian the Brave. I love you more than anything in the world.’
For a moment I looked away from him, like the immature idiot that I am. But this was it, wasn’t it? The moment. The moment, when our relationship could either grow into something amazing, or could fizzle out into mediocrity. I drew myself tall, shoulders back, and looked him in the eyes. ‘I love you too, I guess.’
‘Oh?’ He chuckled loudly. ‘You guess?’
‘No. I know, I guess. I mean … I know. All right? I love you, Detective Quinn. A lot. Are you happy now?’
‘Very.’ His face turned serious. ‘Because I do love you, and now that I know you love me too, I’m the happiest man in Ireland. This is the happiest moment of my life, and no one’s taking it away from me. Not Ron Montague. Not Bella Foyle. And definitely not Darina bloody Berry.’
He took my coffee from my hand, setting it onto the dresser and lifting me up, making me squeal with delight. ‘So come on, Miss Smith. Let’s enjoy this moment of happiness, before the next lot of life-threatening evil comes our way.’
≈
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Old-School Witch Page 18