Riot Girls: Seven Books With Girls Who Don't Need A Hero

by Sara Roethle, Jill Nojack, Rachel Medhurst, Sarah Dalton, Pauline Creeden, Brad Magnarella, Stella Wilkinson

  James opened the passport and verified it was his face and name on the document, "What the…"

  "I can look like anyone or anything I want to look like. And they hardly issue passports to gruagachs, do they? Sometimes a fellow has to improvise. I'll let you use it, though, if you’ll help us. You might find you enjoy a bit of adventure now and then. And when's the next time you think you'll be handed a free trip to Scotland, anyway?"

  James looked at Lizbet and then back to Eamon. Then, he looked at her again. "Are you sure that you feel right about taking off halfway across the world with this guy?"

  She nodded, "I do. It's crazy, but I really have known Eamon for hundreds of years. I have to do it. And now that you know all this, hopefully you don't think I'm nuts. I think Eamon's right. I can use all the help I can get."

  James shrugged and smile as he gave his decision. "I'm not saying I don't think you're nuts, but I started the day being chased by monks, so if the damsel wants me to carry her favour, I'm in. So I must be nuts, too." He bowed low and waved a hand gracefully toward the open passenger-side car door. "Your carriage, m'lady."

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Leavin’ On A Jet Plane

  LIZBET WATCHED JAMES'S eyes cut back and forth between the rearview mirror and the road as Eamon explained the glamour. There was still something about James, something about his bright blue eyes, whispers that she couldn’t quite get a hold of, but she was glad that he was coming with them if only for some human company. With the whispering in her head and all the recent events, she felt like she was floating around in a big, fluffy cloud of unreality. Having James around helped her feel more normal, like they were all just having a conversation over the back fence about perfectly reasonable things.

  "…so, you see…I can use the magic, and you can see it because of all the fae sitting around the Tree in that circle, sending every bit of their power to me. Otherwise you'd not see me at all. It only works because the binding wasn't completely perfect. It's like if you have a really thick sheet of metal surrounding you. Nobody on the other side can see you or hear you. But if you take a great hammer and keep hitting away at the same spot, you might make a dent they can see on the other side. That's me. I'm the dent."

  "What about the amulet? I couldn't see it until I was wearing it," Lizbet asked, cupping the cool metal medallion in her hand.

  "Aye. Same principle. A dent. But the amulet has its own power. And truthfully, I don't know how it works—Morgan made it, not me. But it'll let you see itself and any other amulets that Morgan made. This is something that other people can’t do, unless they’re wearing one of them. And come to think of it, lassie, I didn't say and I need to say it—don't be taking the amulet off, ever, under any circumstances. Because you'll never find it again if you do. Nor will you find your memories—they'll go with it. In your last life you took it off once, and you wandered the streets for weeks until I found you and brought it back to you."

  Lizbet turned around with narrowed eyes as James backed the car into a spot in the long-term parking lot at the airport, "What? Really? Say that last part again…"

  "Och, are we at the airport already? Everyone got their ticket?" Eamon dropped his eyes and spoke quickly, rummaging in his own bag as though he needed to verify its contents. "Aye? Yes? Check your bags…everyone got everything? Passports, tickets, change of pants? James, we'll stop at a shop for you after we get to London. I've a little money stored away in a hidey-hole where I can get to it easily."

  She put her hands on her hips, "Eamon, you're avoiding me."

  "I just think that I'd like to put a hold on that question until after we get where we're goin'. It's one of those complex stories, you ken? If I wasn't going to be riding down below in the cold with the rest of the luggage because your friend James here has my ticket, I'd explain it to you on the plane." Eamon stopped talking and promptly transformed into a large piece of luggage, putting a quick end to the conversation.

  Lizbet thought the tartan print was a nice touch. They wouldn't have any problem finding a bright red plaid bag at the baggage claim, at least. "Fine. I can wait. And I won't take the necklace off."

  It felt odd to hand Eamon over to bag check at the entrance to the airport and continue through security without him. It was even odder for the attendant when one of the bags he had just placed on his cart disappeared without a trace. A small man in a plaid shirt was walking briskly away from the cart and into the airport entrance, but the bag was nowhere to be found.

  ~*~

  Lizbet and James settled in to their seats toward the back of the plane. Lizbet took the center, and James had the aisle. The window seat was empty for now, but there were still stragglers entering the plane. Lizbet hoped none of them showed up in monk’s robes. She also hoped the window seat remained unoccupied. As much as she liked being in close contact with James, she liked the idea of comfort more. She had never been on a really long flight and wasn't looking forward to it.

  She did a double-take when she saw a short man in a red plaid shirt walking down the aisle. He was clean-shaven, and he didn't have Eamon's sharp and exaggerated features. He was also quite a bit taller than Eamon—close to five feet, nearly as tall as Lizbet, instead of Eamon's usual height of around three feet tall. The man was also much more human-looking than Eamon, but she knew it was him despite the changes. He stopped in the aisle, looking at his ticket, then up at the numbers above the seats, "I think the window's mine." He offered his bag to James, "Would you mind stowing this in the overhead for me? I'm a bit vertically challenged, as you see."

  As she stood to make room for him to get to the window seat, Lizbet hissed, "What are you doing here? You said James had your ticket. Why did you make such a big stink over having us leave you at baggage check if you were going to be sitting with us all along?"

  The doors at the front were closed and the engines whined to life. It was too late now to leave the plane without making a scene. James leaned slightly across Lizbet and answered the question for Eamon. "Because you wanted to trick me into coming all along, didn't you? You never had that ticket for yourself…it was always for me."

  "Eamon, you didn't!"

  Eamon hung his head slightly. "Aye, lassie, I did. For your own protection-like. You've got to have someone with you if something happens to me. The glamour uses huge amounts of magical energy with the fae locked away in their shadow world. Every time I use it, some of the fae need to leave the ring and rest. If I have to stay under a glamour too long, I could be forced to leave your world for a while. If I had to leave you for the fae realm, what would happen then? Who would protect you if the monks find you? The fae Morgan could guide you where you need to go in your dreams, but she couldn’t keep you safe."

  "But you must have been planning this for days!"

  "More like months, lassie…I'm not so clever I could arrange all of this in just days. Sometimes you have to improvise. If the brothers hadn't shown up when they did, I'm not even sure if it would've worked out," Eamon turned to James, "Just a few rocks against your window was all I needed to get everything moving in the right direction. It was a real stroke a' luck. I could never have arranged it so neatly without their intervention."

  Eamon continued, his voice softening. "It had to be arranged in advance, ye ken? There were passports and tickets and cover stories to arrange. I couldn’t depend on everybody being reasonable about it," Eamon said as he misted up and turned his head away from them, "It'll be my folk who perish if it fails. Your folk will be fine. You can just go home and live your lives."

  Lizbet took Eamon's small hand and squeezed it tight. "It's okay, Eamon, we understand. James? Do you really mind?”

  James shook his head after a moment. "Nah…I'm good, I guess. It's not like I can get off the plane now, anyway."

  Eamon gave a small nod. “I only wish I’d had the foresight to move the knife after I secured it from the brothers. We could have flown straight through to Scotland instead of wasting a day stopping off in
London.”

  “Knife?” Lizbet asked.

  "It’ll all come clear later, lass. I don’t think this is the best place to discuss it. Alright, so…grab me a blanket as soon as the steward comes around, would you? I need to let go this glamour as soon as possible, and I need something to hide under."

  Eamon soon had his blanket and covered himself with it completely so that he could let go of the glamour. Lizbet heard snoring coming from under the blanket shortly after. Eamon even snored with an accent.

  She and James talked about movies, and music, and his classes in college. It almost felt normal except for the background chatter in her head. She wondered if things would ever really feel normal again.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Where You Lead

  LIZBET DIDN'T MUCH enjoy her first transatlantic flight. Personal space was at a minimum, and there was a young kid right behind her who had cried at top volume for the first hour after they changed planes. If she ever felt like getting carried away during a heavy necking session to the point she'd be willing to risk being a teenaged mom, she'd remember that hour. It would definitely kill all romantic ideas dead. No problem just saying "no" with that screaming kid on her mind.

  After the high-pitched whining and crying from behind her stopped, she managed to sleep for a few hours of the flight, during which her head fell over on to James's shoulder. She had no idea what James thought of her imposing on him like that. She hoped that she had somehow managed to be adorable. She hoped she hadn't drooled.

  Eamon had thoroughly prepared them for clearing through immigration control before they disembarked. She was here with her boyfriend visiting her uncle Eamon, who had traveled back from America with them. James was telling the same story from the boyfriend's perspective at the next window. They were going on to Edinburgh from London after stopping in London for a day or two. No, she had never been to Scotland and was really looking forward to it. While she said this, her mind filled with visions of green hills and stone keeps. She had no way of knowing if those memories had anything to do with modern day Scotland.

  They were sitting on a bench trying to make sense of the London Underground map that James had picked up from a kiosk for visitors when Eamon put his head down and told them to lower theirs as well. He spoke quietly. "Don't get panicked, but there's a monk over there that Morgan would recognize. His name is Thomas, and he's waiting for us. I don't know how we can get past him without one of them seeing us. They won't be dressed like monks here. Thomas is too smart for that now that he knows we're on the lookout. And I expect they'll be wearing caps to hide the tonsure so that you can't spot them by that."

  "So…what are they going to do, attack us in the airport?" asked James.

  "No, they couldn't risk it, but they must have some kind of a plan or they wouldn't be here waiting. Right, just stay here and keep your heads down. Don't think of moving away from this point. If anyone gets near you who seems the least bit suspicious, scream your bloody heads off. And you," Eamon handed Lizbet his cap, "put your hair up under this. That red hair will give you away faster than anything.” Lizbet took the cap with wide eyes, appalled at the idea of wearing something that Eamon had just been wearing. However, she was more worried about the monks than anything that might be resident in Eamon's cap. She carefully twisted her hair into a tail and gingerly stuffed it into her new headgear.

  Eamon walked away briskly, taking what appeared to be a very modern wallet out of his jacket pocket, "I need to buy a burner."

  "Did he just say he's going to buy a burner? A burner cell phone?" asked James.

  "That's pretty tech savvy for a fifteen hundred year old fairy!" replied Lizbet.

  James grinned. "Ya think?"

  Lizbet tried to get a look around while keeping her face hidden. It didn't seem that she would be able to do both at the same time. She caught sight of a tall, well-built young man with curly black hair and immediately lowered her head, lifting her hands to cover her face. The man didn't appear to have seen her. It was Myrddin's murderer, the monk Faolan. For a moment, she froze in fear.

  She knew it couldn't be Faolan—Faolan would have been dead for hundreds of years. This was Thomas, the modern version. The tiny flash she'd experienced of Morgan's shame during her dream about the murder suddenly burst fully into her consciousness at the same time the whispers in her head flared to a painful, angry roar at the sight of him. She understood. He would recognize her immediately if he caught a glimpse of her. She might be younger now than Morgan had been when Faolan was born, but a grandson knows his grandmother. She turned quickly away while tucking the last wisps of red hair into Eamon's cap.

  ~*~

  Eamon stopped talking on his new cell phone and put it into his pocket as he walked back to them. He hunkered down next to the bench where Lizbet and James were sitting.

  "Alright then, we're leaving here in about twenty minutes. You'll stand up and follow the signs that point to the taxi ranks. When we get outside the terminal, we'll be looking for a particular cab. It'll have a small yellow sticker on the passenger side window, a sticky note-like—that's so I don't have to tell you which way to go. Just start walking to it at a normal pace, without showing your hand that you'll be popping in to it when you get there. We don't want them to think that we've got a ride waiting. We want it to look like you'll just be walking by for the buses."

  Eamon looked around briefly. "The only good thing about the big city is that nobody looks at anybody else. Stand up and take my hand, lassie, because if you don't, what these good people will see, if they bother to look, is a bag rolling around after you of its own accord. To my mind, you probably don't need that kind of attention."

  Eamon transformed into a piece of luggage again, but this time he chose a nondescript, light blue, roller case that would pass for a stylish young lady's traveling bag.

  When the time came, Lizbet and James started walking along at a leisurely pace, finding and following the signs Eamon had told them to follow. They talked about the trip, pretending this was nothing but a normal stroll through the airport, but Lizbet was aware that they were collecting a small parade of men dressed in brand new clothes and baseball caps behind them. Her heart started to beat faster. When she glanced at James, his face was tight, and the back of his neck was bright red. He dropped slightly behind as if to sheild her from the danger.

  As they finally arrived at the beginning of the taxi ranks, she had to work very hard not to break into a trot. About eighth in line, she saw the taxi with the yellow piece of paper stuck to the inside of the window glass.

  A windowless white van was moving slowly along the roadway on the other side of the line of taxis. James moved to her side, and she saw him risk a quick look back. Then he grabbed her free hand and whispered, "I think we really oughta go now." He took off running with her in tow, the Eamon-case flying out behind her. She heard the sound of many pairs of feet start running behind them. The side door of the white van opened, and two more men jumped out, coming toward them between the taxis. James had his hand on the door handle of the taxi by then. He pulled the door open and scrambled in, moving quickly across the seat to make room for the others.

  Lizbet tossed Eamon into the taxi, and he landed hard, dropping the glamour as soon as he landed in the backseat on his face. Lizbet was scrambling in when a hand grabbed her leg. She kicked out as far and hard as she could and heard a sickening crunch as her foot connected with her attacker's nose. She winced. Then, the driver was pulling out of the stand, and her leg was free. She held onto the headrest of the seat in front of her as she leaned out and pulled the door closed while the taxi picked up speed. Lizbet looked out of the back window just in time to see Thomas jump into the van with his brothers and slide the side door shut.

  Eamon climbed into the front seat and greeted the driver with, "Mr. Williams, as you can see, we've got a bit of a problem here. I hope you've arranged something."

  The driver, a very black man with very white teeth, the center
piece of a brilliant smile, winked at Eamon, "I don't think you have anything to worry about, mate. I hope your friends appreciate how hard it is to arrange a good escape on short notice."

  Once they were away from the airport and into a more residential area of the city, the taxi turned down a narrow side street. They hadn't been able to shake the van, which was still only about a block behind them. They crossed another side street and a double-decker bus full of tourists pulled into the intersection and stopped dead in the center. They could hear the van squeal to a halt on the other side. The taxi continued on for a minute or two and then turned off to the left. It pulled almost immediately into an open garage, and someone pulled the door shut behind them.

  Everyone piled out of the taxi in the dimly lit space. Lizbet could see that a young boy about Bobby's age had been the one to pull the garage door shut. Just like the taxi driver, the boy didn't seem surprised to see Eamon in his true form. In fact, the boy cried out with delight when Eamon exited the taxi, "Eamon! It's you! I haven't seen you for so long."

  "Oh, now laddie, I've been quite busy. In fact, I've been out of the country, tendin' to that one there." He made a sweeping gesture in Lizbet's direction. "Things have become a wee bit tense in the fae world with all of the main players back on the stage. So, Louis, I would like to present Lizbet, and her friend James. Lizbet, James, this is my friend Louis and his father, Mr. Williams or Louis Sr., if you prefer."

  Mr. Williams motioned toward the door at the side of the garage. "Well, come in, then. You can't stay in the garage all night. Louis, take them into the front room and I'll make us some tea, shall I?"

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Last Train For Glory

  LIZBET LOVED Mr. Williams' deep, booming voice and entertaining story-telling as they shared dinner and exchanged tales. Even the dumbest jokes sounded much funnier in a British accent.