His clothes were another matter entirely. The stained and ripped jeans were held up by a twine belt, and the faded plaid shirt was half untucked, missing buttons, and one arm was holding on to the body of the shirt by a thread.
"Oh, you were a smart one. Ran off when you knocked 'em over, did ya? Roy will find ya, yes I will." He started scouring the area in uneven circles.
I'd gotten a look at him, but I still didn't have a plan. The hope that an idea would come to me after I found him was fading, and I was running out of time. I needed to take action before he discovered the other officers, who had suffered enough.
"When I move, find a new hiding place," I whispered to Queen.
She nodded, but the expression on her face didn't give me any good feelings.
Moving quietly to avoid attracting his attention, I walked around the shelf and into a relatively clear part of the floor. Soft scraping and squishing sounds reassured me that Queen was getting out of the way.
"Hey… hey, you," I yelled, waving my arms in the air.
The clurichaun did an about-face and skidded to a stop, a big grin on his face. "Well, who's this pretty thing?" He took a swig from each bottle, wiping his mouth on the back of a hand. "Matters not at all."
He dove at me, lobbing the vodka bottle in my direction. I ducked, and it somersaulted over my head, dousing my hair and shoulders with its contents. Thanking my lucky stars that the alcohol wasn't in my eyes, I stood up, pointed my wand at him, and yelled, "Fehu!"
For a moment he slowed, but light rippled around him, and he tossed off the spell like I'd sprayed him with water.
"Narzel fart," I swore. He should have stopped or frozen in a block of ice, not continued charging at me like a short, angry ram.
"Hey, leprechaun, over here," a male voice shouted.
Roy halfheartedly chunked the Kahlúa at me, but it went wide as he turned around to hunt for the man slinging insults.
I couldn't see where that man was, but Roy seemed to have an idea because he was scooping up liquor bottles on the way to a stack of boxes. Muttering under my breath about foolish males, I raced after the clurichaun. In this case, racing was more of a barely controlled dash around bottles, puddles, and shelves.
Roy pulled back his arm, a bottle of rum at the ready, and I knew I couldn't get there in time. Raising my wand, I said, "Sowil." The containment bubble popped up around Roy, and the bottle bounced harmlessly off the inside to land at the bottom of the sphere.
"Why you… you," Roy sputtered.
"Yes, me." I continued picking my way over broken bottles, keeping an eye on him. After the way he threw off the last spell, I didn't trust that this one would hold him.
A man stepped out from behind the boxes. "Is it safe?"
"I think so." From the claws tipping his fingers, I guessed he was a shifter, but I needed more than pointy nails to identify his species.
"You must be the witch."
"Michelle Oaks, at your service."
Roy had opened the rum and was busy draining the bottle when he wasn't hurling insults.
"O'Neil, werebadger," he said, introducing himself. "I'd shake your hand, but—"
I looked at O'Neil, who had his arms loosely cross over his chest and his shoulders hunched. "Now isn't the best time. After we deal with this guy, we can make proper introductions."
I couldn't hear Roy; he wasn't swearing or drinking. The hair on the back of my neck stood up, and I swung around.
"Look out," O'Neil yelled, leaping forward.
I looked just in time to see Roy's squished face smirking at me as he plucked the wand out of my hand and raced for the ceiling. O'Neil hit me and we went down in a tangle of arms and legs.
Pain burst from every part of my back and left side, and shards of glass dug through my clothes to pierce my body. Somehow—it must've been luck, because it certainly wasn't due to any skill on my part—I didn't crack my head, and O'Neil didn't cut me with his claws.
"Oh," O'Neil moaned. "I've had better ideas." He rolled off me, gaining a few more cuts in the process.
"Considering the clurichaun's track record, I won't complain." I sat up, digging the glass farther into my rump, and looked around. "He's gone."
"I'm not surprised. He's been doing stuff like this since we got here. It's why the human officers are outside."
I'd wondered about that, but it hadn't been the most important question. After brushing most of the glass off my arms, I stood up and tried to get the rest of it off my lower body. My hand brushed over a few tender spots where glass was embedded in my skin. It was going to be great fun when the remaining fragments were plucked out.
"What does he usually do at this point?" I asked. So far I was useless. My empty containment bubble was still floating overhead. I dismissed it with a thought. Maybe I could keep Roy occupied until we could get another fey out here. If I was clever, I might get my wand back.
"Drinks and comes back to torment whoever catches his fancy." O'Neil sounded discouraged, and I couldn't blame him. "What are you going to do now?"
I hadn't survived a sorceress, trolls, and a werewolf to be bested by the bad apple of the leprechaun tree. "Put that Narzel-blessed clurichaun in handcuffs."
O'Neil looked at me and blinked.
It sounded crazy to me too. "Can I borrow your cuffs?" I slid them in my back pocket after he dropped them in my hand. "Stay back. I don't want you to get hurt."
Marching to the middle of the room, I yelled, "I want my wand back, you misshapen dwarf."
Standing there, I focused as much on sound as I did on sight. Given his penchant for trickery, odds were he'd show up behind me.
Just to prove how good I am at predicting the enemy, he descended from the ceiling to hover in front of me. His face was beet red, but that could've been the alcohol as much as the anger.
"What did you call me?"
"You heard me. You're a disgrace to the hardworking leprechauns of the world, and you look like a distorted dwarf."
Roy's face turned an even darker color, and he vibrated in the air. I held my breath, not sure what he would do. Freezing, he looked at me and flashed a twisted smile. There was just enough time for me to panic and worry that I'd overplayed my hand.
He grabbed my wand with both hands and brought it down across his knee, snapping it like a twig. Laughing, he tossed the pieces aside.
"What are you going to do now? Poor witch doesn't have her wand." Roy batted his eyes at me.
I bared my teeth and snarled, "Witches don't need wands."
His smile faded.
Throwing out my right hand, I hit him with raw power, throwing him back and driving him to the floor. He struggled, shimmered, and tried to throw off my power. I forced my power to flow around him, preventing his movement. Roy thrashed and shivered and then stopped moving. Walking closer, I took grim pleasure at the disbelief in his eyes.
With a twirl of my finger, he was rolled onto his stomach. Leaning over, I fished the cuffs out of my pocket and snapped them on his wrists. It was extremely satisfying to see Roy in handcuffs.
Taking a deep breath, I slowly cut off the flow of power and dispersed the energy that was swirling around Roy, sending it into the earth. A headache sprang to life in my temples. I knew better than to throw around raw power. As effective as it was, I always felt empty and tired afterward. The wand, which was now evidence, helped focus power, allowing the caster to use less energy for a spell. Runes gave the magic shape and form, reducing the mental strain of holding all the parts of a spell in your brain as you willed it into being.
Queen walked over, eyes wide. "Michelle, what did you do?"
I rubbed my head, not wanting to answer her question. "My job."
"So I see." She paused and surveyed the disaster of a room and my bloody clothes. "I'm sorry about your wand."
"Easily replaced." I shrugged. "Besides, it's evidence now." For a moment she looked like she was going to question me, but she let it go. I breathed a sigh of relief.
Sure, the wand was easy to replace, but it had been a gift from Dad when he was teaching me magic.
O'Neil came over, followed by a man I hadn't met yet. From the fur and whiskers, I gathered he turned into something feline. O'Neil opened his mouth as if to say something, but quickly snapped it closed. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Queen shaking her head. If I had more energy, I would've thanked her.
The feline officer clucked his tongue, reached down, and hauled Roy up by the back of his neck.
"Hey, what are you doing?" Roy demanded.
The officer switched his grip to both arms and carried the swearing clurichaun out of the building.
After a moment I followed them out. Later today I could curl up and sleep, but I needed to be functional now, and that required a restorative brew.
"Michelle, where are you going?" Queen asked.
"To get an energy drink from my car. I'll be back in a minute." As soon as I got to the car, I found one of my more potent brews and chugged it. I grabbed a bottle of water and tried to wash the bitter taste out of my mouth as I went back over to the group of cops huddled around the front of the liquor store.
"There you are," O'Neil said. He had bandages covering part of his face and both arms. "The paramedics want to look at you."
I didn't even argue when the paramedic started looking at my visible cuts. The kindly middle-aged man, whose name I couldn't remember, pulled glass from a few of the slices on my arms. After rubbing an ointment over them, he covered me with bandages.
"Do you want to go to the hospital?"
"What?" My eyes lifted from the pavement, which I'd been studying to distract myself from the tweezers in my arm, to his face.
"Normally, we would take you to the hospital for X-rays and to tend to the rest of those cuts. I was only able to remove a couple of obvious pieces of glass since I'm not set up to do a more in-depth exam. Do you want to go or not?" He said it like he knew what my answer would be and didn't approve.
"I'd rather go home. If I can't tend them, a friend will."
He sighed. "I thought as much. If you find more glass or if a cut bothers you, go to the doctor. You don't want to wait for it to fester."
"Festering is bad. I'll clean them properly." I smiled and thanked him for working on my arms before working my way back into the group of police. In theory, there was safety in numbers, or at least enough injured people that it would take the paramedics a while to circle back to me.
"Michelle, how are you?" Queen asked.
"A little cut up, but I'll be good as new in a few days," I said, leaving off the part about being completely exhausted and ready to go home.
She nodded. "Briggs is going to be fine. He's got a long list of injuries, but werebears are tough."
I glanced at the dent in the wall and shuddered. If I'd been thrown into a metal wall with enough force to leave a body impression, I'd be in the morgue.
Queen continued talking. "Michelle and I will examine the building for magical trouble, and then it's evidence collection and paperwork."
I nodded absentmindedly. Maybe if I asked nicely, Dad would give me a new wand. However, explaining how the last one died had its own issues. Considering they'd told me to keep a low profile, admitting to flaunting my power was going to be a less than fun conversation. Granted, it was a conversation that would happen at some point. The first time Dad saw my new wand, he'd want to know what happened to the old one.
"Are you ready?" Queen looked at me expectantly.
Snapping out of my reflections, I realized the rest of the group had dispersed. "Sure."
She smiled, and we walked into the building. If anything, the smell of alcohol had gotten stronger in the interim. The air burned my nose, and I switch to breathing through my mouth, hoping to reduce the uncomfortable sensation. The thick air stung even more that way, so I shut my mouth to reduce further exposure.
Queen stopped a few feet into the building and out of what had been the main path. I picked my way around the bottles to stand next to her. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. After widening my stance and closing my eyes, I sent out tendrils of power. They raced through the building, touching and tasting as they searched for magic. Finding nothing, the power flowed back into me. Opening my eyes, I swayed. Next to me, Queen opened her eyes and rolled her shoulders.
"I didn't find anything," I said.
"Me either."
"Do we need to do anything else in here?"
"Nope."
Instead of replying, I marched out of the liquor store and took deep, gulping breaths of fresh air. Behind me, Queen giggled. I twisted around to glare at her.
"I'm sorry. It's just, well, do you think I should recommend gas masks or hazmat gear?" She laughed.
"Gas masks would be a prudent suggestion." I pointed at her. "Your eyes are as red as mine. That place is toxic."
"It is; it really is. I hadn't noticed how bad it was until I left."
I rolled my eyes. "That's for the best. Truly. I've made three trips in there, and it smells worse every time."
She wrinkled her nose. "Nasty. You look beat. Go home and rest."
"Yes, ma'am."
I was in my car and on my way home before she could change her mind. A couple of miles down the road, I called Amber.
"Hey, it's Michelle."
"Am I late? I didn't think we were meeting for another hour."
"No," I reassured her. "You're not late. Could we move lunch to my place? I had a case come up, and I'm not restaurant ready."
"You're place is fine as long as we're eating Landa's cooking." Amber laughed.
"We won't be eating my cooking, that's for sure. Also, would you mind helping me bandage a few cuts? I can't reach all of them." A few might be an understatement, but this didn't seem like the time to detail my wounds.
"What happened?" Amber demanded.
I sighed. "There was some broken glass, and I got banged up a little. I'm fine. I'll tell you all about it over lunch and bandages."
"I want the entire story."
"And you shall have it," I promised.
"I'm going to hold you to that," she said before hanging up.
The rest of the drive was spent thanking my past self for putting seat covers in my car and spelling them to repel dirt. Even with blood seeping from my cuts, the covers wouldn't need more than a quick spin through the washing machine. The rest of me wasn't going to recover as easily. Even with a healing salve, the cuts would take days to heal, and I'd get the joy of feeling itchy scabs all over my body. Energy wise, I should be back to normal in the morning, but I was going to be rather useless the rest of the day.
At the lodge, I hauled the bare essentials back to my apartment before running down to the kitchen and taking a few plates of leftovers from the snacking shelf in Landa's fridge. Back in my apartment, I carefully stripped off my bloodstained clothes and tossed them in the trash. With the number of holes they'd acquired, it wasn't worth trying to salvage them. My shower was long and painful, but I managed to scrub the cuts clean.
I'd just dried off and slipped into shorts and a T-shirt when I heard a knock at the door.
"Be right there," I yelled on my way over. Opening the door, I found Amber on the other side, a bottle of wine in one hand and a box of zebra-striped bandages in the other. Laughing, I held the door open, "Do come in."
"Geez, Michelle. What happened to you?" Amber set the bottle of wine on the table.
I closed the door and turned to look at her. She looked good, at least on the outside, but I didn't trust her appearance. Amber had been held captive by a crazy werewolf, leaving wounds that were invisible to the eye. "Well, I had a run-in with a clurichaun." A cut above my elbow oozed blood. "Can I tell you the story while we bandage me?"
Amber looked me up and down. "That might be best."
I fetched the healing cream and some larger bandages from the bathroom, then sank into a chair. Amber knelt in front of me, settled my foot in her lap, and starte
d smearing the green goop on the cuts.
"You said something about a clurichaun?"
Scooping up a glob of the healing cream, I started on my left arm. "The Pickens police called me because the clurichaun at the liquor store was making trouble. I captured him, but while he was throwing a tantrum, he managed to break most the bottles in the place. A few falls, and I look like this."
"You're lucky you weren't hurt more. Why did the clurichaun trash the store?"
That was a good question, one I'd been too tired to ask when I had the chance. "No idea. By the time he was in cuffs, I was ready to go home. Next time I talk to Queen, I'll ask."
"Why am I bandaging you when you could use a healing charm?" Amber stuck a bandage over a cut and started rubbing the cream into the next wound.
I tired not scoot around in the chair. She didn't need to rub the healing cream into the cut, just smear some over it. "Because I'm not a prepared witch. I'm out of minor healing charms, and this doesn't rate a powerful one. In the morning, when I feel better, I'll make a charm for myself. Until then"—I pointed at the healing cream—"I'll make do with this stuff. It's spelled to promote healing."
Typically, I was prepared and over prepared, but the past few weeks had been a whirlwind of emergencies, and I'd gone through some supplies faster than I could replenish my stock. The minor charms were one of those items. If I'd been useful rather than wallowing at Mom's house, it would be a different story.
By the time we were done, I was a patchwork of skin and zebra bandages. Looking at my arms and legs, I vowed to avoid mirrors for a while. "It's a good thing it's fall. With pants and long sleeves, no one will ask what I did to myself."
"True, but when you're scratching because you have itchy scabs everywhere, they'll ask questions."
"Hey, don't blow holes in my plan." I grinned. "A girl has to do something to preserve her dignity. The guys would laugh at me if they knew a clurichaun did this to me."
"And the glass, don't forget the glass." Amber giggled.
A Witch's Trial (Witch's Path Series: Book 3) Page 4