by Lucia Ashta
Quade caught up to me quickly, the extra length of his strides giving him an unfair advantage. Glancing over at him, he looked like a gazelle, or maybe a panther, all smooth lines and graceful movements.
I had no doubt my stride was far less graceful, but I was going to catch that bugger no matter what.
My intentions must have been plain on my face, because just as I was about to dive right through the bushes that had swallowed him whole, Quade grabbed my arm, pulling me up short.
“Wait,” he said, and before I could object that the leprechaun bastard was surely using the time to get away, I understood what he intended to do.
This side of Moonshine Park was lined with thick, old-growth bushes. Their roots were deep, their branches thick and intertwined; their leaves made it difficult to see through them.
As if Quade were freaking Moses and he could part the seas, the wall of greenery started to condense to either side of where we stood, the bushes rustling loudly. Within half a minute, Quade’s magic had carved a doorway for us to pass through.
And on the other side of it sat a leprechaun, his spindly bare legs crossed in front of him, the Spanx shirt blessedly hanging low enough to conceal his private bits, clutching my Enchanted Heart in his hand. I couldn’t help but notice that my doughnut was missing several bites more than the one I’d taken.
“You!” I accused.
The leprechaun stared back at me, seemingly trying to decide how to react. I worried he’d run again, and even with my comfort with running, I still wasn’t sure I’d catch him. He’d covered a lot of distance in a short time.
The tiny pain-in-my-ass must have decided the same thing. He leapt to his feet, shoved my doughnut in his mouth, clamping it with his teeth, and took off.
I lunged through the archway Quade had created and hit the patch of grass on the other side at a full-out run, not slowing down as I tore across a sidewalk. Good thing I believed in wearing comfortable, sensible shoes. I pinned my sights on the leprechaun’s tiny bare feet and chased them for all I was worth.
He might be fast and wily, but his legs were so much shorter than mine. Never before had I had a long-legged advantage in any situation. I was going to make the most of this first.
When I was only a few lengths from him, a tree he was passing whipped a limb out to snare him. The leprechaun whacked into the thick branches face-first with a loud oomph, sliding downward in their hold.
I slid to a stop next to him. The branches contained him in a band of wood that wasn’t moving. The leprechaun had what remained of my doughnut smooshed against his face, his eyes dazed behind remnants of maple glaze and a delicious cream filling.
Certain he wasn’t going anywhere, I looked up at Quade, who stood next to me, not even out of breath.
“Thanks for that,” I said. “He’s a sneaky one.”
“Is he really a leprechaun?” Quade peered down at the little guy, who was a mess of pastry, orange hair, and shiny Spanx. “Everyone in town is talking about it.”
“He says he is. He supposedly granted Bab a wish and fixed what your mom did to the barrier spell.”
Quade yanked his head back in surprise. “Really?”
I shrugged. “It’s what he said. But I don’t trust him for a second. I’ve been chasing him around all day like I have nothing better to do than track his bare ass.”
“Wha ... what is he wearing?”
“Jadine Lolly’s Spanx.”
“What?” Quade spluttered again. “Why?”
“According to him, he was tired of his attire and required an upgrade.”
“Why’d he upgrade to Spanx of all things?”
“‘Cause it’s silky, shiny, and soft, ya big buffoon. Why do ya think?” the leprechaun said.
Quade smirked at him. “That doesn’t mean you get to go around taking whatever you want.”
“I always do what I want, don’t ya know? Nobody cares about what I do now that me mum be gone from this earthly pasture.”
“Well, I care what you do,” I snapped. “I’m the one who’s been cleaning up all your messes. And that”—I pointed—“is my doughnut.”
“Is that what it be called?”
“Actually, it’s called an Enchanted Heart,” I replied before realizing I needn’t explain a thing. He was a thief and a kidnapper. He hadn’t earned any explanations.
“It be delicious, this Enchanted Heart.”
Scowling, I debated what I should do with him. There was no point in demanding he hand over the doughnut, but what about the other things he’d done? Mindy, Jadine, and Bab wanted some sort of retribution.
I looked up at Quade, who was several inches taller than me. “I don’t know what Nan wants me to do with him, but I figure she’ll want me to bring him to her and the council. Will you help me?”
“Ya can’t capture me,” the leprechaun threatened. “I can slip any hold.”
“Not this one,” Quade said. “This tree has a firm grip on you. I can feel it.”
The leprechaun narrowed green eyes at Quade until they became mere slits. Without interrupting his glare, he wiped the doughnut from his face, turned his ire on me, and licked what was left of the pastry off his hand.
“Mmm,” he taunted. “It be so tasty.”
I growled at him. Not because I wanted that doughnut anymore. I loved sweets all right, but that love obviously didn’t control me. I wasn’t even on my period, when comfort food became a necessity of survival. I narrowed my own eyes at him because I finally understood how Jadine felt about her Spanx. His actions felt like a violation of sorts, and he was rubbing that fact in.
“You can’t do this kind of thing. Didn’t your mom teach you any manners?”
He stilled mid-lick, apparently impacted by what I said, before continuing to lap up all remnants of his most recent crime. “‘Course me ma taught me manners. She was always telling me what ta do.”
“And now that she’s passed on, you think this is the best way to honor her memory? By misbehaving at every turn? By harming others with your actions?”
He would no longer meet my waiting gaze.
“If you wanted to live here, you could have just asked.”
“Nah, I couldn’t have. Ye wouldn’t have let me in, no ya wouldn’t. That spell of yours doesn’t let me kind in.” He rose his eyes to meet mine, grinning. “Till that spell of yours finally fell. Bloody good thing I happened ta be in the area. I managed ta slip right in before it went back up, I did.”
“You still could’ve asked,” I said.
“So ye could treat me like I don’t belong? Thank ye very much, but no thanks. Yer community here be exclusive. Ya don’t let anyone in at all.”
“We don’t mean to be exclusive like you say,” Quade interjected. “We keep others out only to protect ourselves from those who don’t understand magic, and who would persecute us for who and how we are.”
“Ya think I don’t understand that?” the leprechaun asked. “I run and hide every day of me life ‘cause of people trying ta catch me for bloody wishes or trying ta see if I’ll ride a rainbow to some pot a gold or some other such fooking shite nonsense. Some folk actually think I can ride a rainbow! A rainbow. Do they not realize a rainbow isn’t solid? They want me ta fall on me bloody arse from up high just ta find some treasure for them. Do they not give a thought ta me or me kind? Ya think yer persecuted … try being a bloody leprechaun. There are so many legends about us that folk can’t find the true ones any more than they can find their face with their arse.”
“You should have come talk to us,” I said. “We’re reasonable people. We would’ve understood. I’m pretty sure the council would have invited you to join our community if you’d just asked before starting to steal and kidnap.”
The leprechaun wiped hair encrusted with maple glaze from his face, leaving a smear of what looked like cream filling across his forehead. His freckles were concealed behind dirt and grime. “No one’s ever reasonable with leprechauns. Do ya think people listened when me
mum told them she couldn’t find them a pot of gold? Do ya think they would’ve stopped harassing her afore they killed her from all the hassle?”
“I’m really sorry about whatever happened to your mom,” I said. “Really, I am. That sounds terrible. But now I have to take you to my grandma so she can decide what to do with you. She’ll want to hear about these wishes too.” I studied his wiry, small frame and the way he appeared smaller than before, wrapped as he was in the solid, thick branches. “Are the wishes real? Did you really help us with the barrier spell?”
He glared, the green in his eyes flaring.
“Well?” Quade pressed. “Are you going to answer the lady or not?”
“Not,” the leprechaun snapped.
“Then I guess I’ll have to make you.”
A few moments passed during which nothing happened. Then the tree limbs that wrapped the little bugger started creaking, tightening their hold around him.
At first, he didn’t do or say anything. But then the limbs kept squeezing.
His breathing grew shallow and his face red. “Fine, fooking fine.”
The limbs stopped creaking.
I side-eyed Quade. His abilities had really progressed in the time I’d been away.
“I really did grant the wish the fooking nutter woman with the rolling pin made,” he said. “But not ‘cause I had a choice.”
“So the wishes are real?” I asked, a bit of awe tingeing my voice. I knew magic was real, of course I did. But leprechauns had been relegated to legend, even for us witches and wizards. It was like I was staring at a unicorn—albeit a very ornery, ill-tempered, runty one.
The leprechaun didn’t answer, but his pout said it all.
I sighed. I was starting to feel a wee bit bad for the guy.
Spotting his Spanx knapsack flung off to the side, I walked toward it. “Come on,” I told the leprechaun as I went. “Let’s go talk to my nan. Maybe she can help you out. If you’re nice about it and apologize, the council might just forgive you and let you live here with us.”
I looked over my shoulder at him. “But you’d have to promise to be good and a helpful part of the community. There are no freeloaders here, and there are definitely no thieves or kidnappers.”
Then I realized he wasn’t looking at me. He was staring fixedly at his sack.
“What’s in there?” I asked, though I was partly asking myself.
He opened his mouth—whether to answer me, warn me, or laugh at me, I didn’t know, but by the time my self-preservation instinct started ringing through my mind, it was too late.
I reached for the bag, spotted something shiny inside it.
“Don’t touch that!” But Quade’s warning arrived too late.
Before stopping to think, I grabbed it.
Chapter Sixteen
In my hand I clutched a dazzling, bejeweled blade. About the length of my forearm, it tapered to a sharp point. The early afternoon sunlight reflected off it, shooting prisms of light in every direction. A large, opal-like heart-shaped jewel sat in its hilt, drawing my eye like I was a magpie who’d found treasure.
My stomach fell. The blade’s piercing edges weren’t the problem, nor was its beauty. I was clutching a spelled artifact. I sensed the magic it contained vibrating through the handle, and whoever its true owner was, they were certainly a powerful witch or wizard.
One of the first lessons the children of Gales Haven were taught was to never, ever, touch an enchanted artifact when you didn’t know what it did.
“Let it go slowly,” Quade advised, obviously recognizing the nature of my predicament as I had.
I’d been bent over at the waist. Now I slowly squatted so I was directly next to the bag, and attempted to lower the blade back down into the sack. I set the blade against the interior of Jadine’s Spanx, doing a fine job of not focusing on what had last been inside this particular compression garment.
But when I tried to gently unwrap my fingers from around the hilt, they wouldn’t move.
“It won’t let me put it down,” I told Quade, working hard not to allow panic to infuse my voice. Freaking out wouldn’t help a damn thing. Though maybe it would make the leprechaun happy. Had he allowed me to touch the artifact on purpose?
Swiveling my head slowly, like I was holding a ticking bomb instead of an inanimate knife, I pinned him in a glare. But the leprechaun didn’t appear pleased or like he was waiting to gloat. He looked … curious. I wasn’t sure if that was good or bad.
Quade crouched next to me, placing a hand on my back. “Try again.”
I did, and though I pulled with my fingers with all I had, it was as if they were super glued to the metal.
Shaking my head, I tried once more just in case.
“Nothing.”
“If ya lemme go, maybe I can help,” the leprechaun announced from where he still hung in the tree.
“Not a chance,” Quade replied without even looking at him. “You’ve caused enough problems for one day.”
“What if I promise not ta get inta any more trouble?”
“I don’t think you’re capable of that,” I grumbled, staring fixedly at the sparkly knife I was holding against my will.
“Do you feel anything?” Quade asked, clearly referring to the artifact.
I sensed the magic pulsing like a heartbeat through the blade. I felt my own heart thundering, and the blood whooshing through my veins. Sweat prickled at the back of my neck, instantly making my scalp itch. My fingers twitched against the metal with the need to release the blasted thing.
“I don’t know what it’s supposed to do. I feel its magic, but nothing else. Maybe it won’t do anything…?” I added hopefully. “Maybe it will let go of me if I just wait a bit.”
Yeah, and leprechauns are saintly choir boys.
“Maybe,” Quade said, but he didn’t sound convinced of the possibility any more than I was.
The seconds beat by while I sensed the leprechaun’s curious gaze on me like numbing pinpricks.
But nothing else happened.
Again, I attempted to release the blade. Again, it wouldn’t let me.
Finally, I sank to the ground, folding my legs in front of me as I prepared to wait … for what, I still didn’t know. Whatever it was, hopefully it’d be over before it was time to pick up my kids from school. Sure they could ride the bus with this Gus who needed the job. But it was their first day of classes in a new town, in a new system of magic, and I intended to be there for them, whether they wanted me or not.
“Maybe if I just relax, the knife’s magic will release me.”
Hey, anything was possible, even if unlikely.
Quade just rubbed my back in reassurance.
More time beat by and the leprechaun ceased his squirming, apparently surrendering to the tree’s hold.
“Anything?” Quade asked me.
“No. Maybe it won’t do anythi—”
I froze, my eyes growing wide.
“What? What is it?” Quade asked.
“It—”
My view shifted. Quade and the leprechaun disappeared. Moonshine Park and Gales Haven vanished. Though I hadn’t felt like I’d moved at all, and I could still feel Quade’s hand on my back, clutching at me now, I was staring at an unfamiliar landscape.
Imposing mountains climbed upward, dusted in brilliant white. Heavy storm clouds dotted the sky, making the time seem later than it likely was. The air felt brisk, like I’d be experiencing a chill, but the temperature of my body didn’t change, not even when wind whipped by, whistling as it went.
Where the hell was I?
“Marla,” Quade said, concern apparent in that one word. “Talk to me. What’s going on?”
“I-I don’t know.” Turning in the direction of his voice, I still couldn’t see him. Instead, I made out a large field of wildflowers, bending almost flat to the ground with the intensity of the wind. “I can hear you, but I can’t see you.”
“What do you mean? Are you suddenly …
blind or something?”
I shook my head, but it made me dizzy, causing my surroundings to tilt and swirl. I stilled completely while working to make sense of the unfamiliar view.
“I’m fine. My eyes are okay. I can see, but I’m not seeing you anymore. I’m seeing … someplace else. I have no idea where.”
“Maybe ye’re at the end of the rainbow everyone keeps trying ta make me find, the eejit fookers,” the leprechaun said.
“What’s it look like?” Quade asked.
“Just give me a minute to figure it out,” I said.
The wind howled; a psychological shiver rolled through me. Carefully moving my vision as if I were turning my head, I continued past vast fields of flowers, dotting rolling hills that transitioned into towering mountains. And there, nestled amid them, was a cabin.
A warm glow shone from its windows. I set off toward it at once—though I didn’t really move. I couldn’t have. My body continued to sit on the ground beyond Moonshine Park.
Even so, I was on the move. Like I was in some sort of virtual reality, I was simultaneously experiencing two realities.
I crossed what must have been a quarter mile in that alternate reality until I reached the cabin. Up close, it was a beautiful log cabin that was as inviting as it was unexpected in this otherwise deserted landscape.
Peering through one of its windows, I gasped.
“What is it?” Quade asked.
I held up a hand to tell him to wait.
But then … he wouldn’t have seen it. In the reality he occupied, that hand was fused to the enchanted blade.
He’d have to figure it out. Because I just realized who occupied this peculiar charming cabin.
Irma Lamont was stretched out on a burgundy leather armchair by a roaring fire, her legs propped up on a matching ottoman. She sipped at a cup of tea while conversing with two people who sat ramrod straight on a love seat: Delise and Maguire Contonn, looking as out of place on a love seat as any two people could be. Delise, still in her hideous pink poncho, alternated between glaring at Maguire and Irma. Maguire stared straight ahead without reaction.
Whatever had gone down between those two was bad—or maybe nothing at all had happened beyond apparently being whisked away to this isolation by a witch with an ability to zip-trip. Delise and Maguire had been married a long time, long enough for Delise’s domineering attitude to cause long-lasting damage to whatever love might have once existed between them.