Deaglan's Deception

by Belinda M Gordon

  "You are of the Otherworld!" Max stood between Sloan and the stranger, growling a warning. The stranger stood still, raising his hands in a gesture of surrender. "I must find Gobban the Great. Do you know him? He's a Leprechaun. I hear he owns a furniture store," he said in a rush.

  "We're heading to see him ourselves." I pointed to the top of the alley and he turned to look in that direction.

  There was a swooshing noise; the Leprechaun gasped in surprise. He stumbled back several steps before falling to the ground. A woman screamed from an apartment above us.

  Sloan and I lunged for cover behind a large metal dumpster. Max whined and tapped the fallen fae with his paw, trying to make him move. I drew the sword hanging down my back and scanned the alley for the shooter.

  "Xander, put that away!" Sloan hissed. "What if someone sees you?"

  The instinct to draw the weapon had hit me when my adrenaline rose, and I had acted without thinking. I looked around surreptitiously. She was right: the unusual weapon would bring unwanted attention. I re-sheathed it, my now empty hand spasming open and closed. Sloan touched my arm and pointed to the ground.

  She grabbed the blade that now lay at her feet, the spearhead of Lugh's Spear, and scrambled to crouch in front of the Leprechaun, scanning the area for a possible second attack as I followed her. I didn't know what good the spearhead would be against an arrow, but I couldn't say that the sword would be any better.

  I evaluated the fallen man's condition as Sloan stood guard. The arrow had pierced him through his abdomen, the pool of blood beneath him expanding rapidly. He was bleeding out, and I didn't think he'd last long. I touched his shoulder to comfort him, not knowing what else to do. He grabbed my wrist with surprising speed and strength.

  "Tell Gobban. Deaglan knows…" The Leprechaun's voice trailed off and his grip went slack. His hand fell away from my arm.

  "Deaglan knows what?" I asked frantically, resisting the urge to shake him when he didn't reply. I felt his neck instead: no pulse. He was gone. My thoughts raced around his final words. Deaglan could only refer to the Unseelie Prince. What could he know, and why had this man been trying to warn Gobban and not Tressa?

  "Hey, he has a tattoo." Sloan's voice barely registered as I ran through possible implications of the dead Leprechaun's words. "Look, there's a harp on his chest."

  The wail of a police car broke the quiet. The woman who witnessed the attack from her window appeared at the bottom of the street, holding on to another woman for support. She shuddered as she described to her friend what she had seen.

  The sound of footsteps came from the side alley. Max planted his legs and barked ferociously in the direction of their approach, looking as tough as his twenty pounds would allow. Lyle ran around the corner carrying his duffel bag over one shoulder. He stopped short, taking in the details of the scene.

  "Are you injured?" he asked.

  I shook my head and got to my feet. Blood covered the knees and hems of my jeans. My shoes left bloody footprints as I backed away from the Leprechaun's lifeless body. Lyle moved his attention to Sloan, who still stood guard. He didn't seem to notice the blade in her hand. "We should remove the young lady from such a gruesome sight."

  "Don't worry about me. I've seen worse shit than this." Lyle blinked, startled by her tough language. Sloan pointed to the two women, who were moving closer despite their obvious fear.

  "There are two damsels over there you can save." Lyle hurried over to the women, smiling at them and holding out his arms as if simultaneously embracing them and holding them back.

  "Ladies, you don't want to see this. Come, let's leave this ugliness."

  Lyle had charmed them and was herding them out of the alley when the police car drove in, lights flashing and siren blaring. An ambulance arrived just behind it, blocking the entrance to the alley. A crowd began to form, but Lyle, with the help of the police car blocking the way, held them back. I felt relieved when the siren stopped; it was drawing too much attention. Unfortunately, the red and blue lights continued flashing.

  Tom Lynch got out of the car. I took a deep breath as I analyzed the situation. We had an arrow in our possession that more than likely matched the one in the victim's gut, and I had blood all over me. This could go terribly wrong.

  "I'm afraid it's too late for that ambulance, Tom," I said. He nodded and scanned the scene, taking in the intricate details. Then he looked from Sloan to me and then down at the dead man's face.

  "This is your wife's friend? The guy who owns the furniture store?" He jerked his head toward the top of the alley.

  "No, it's not him."

  A breeze suddenly picked up and in a whoosh, Ronan arrived on the wind. I stared at him in shock, not believing that he had just flitted in amongst humans.

  "What the hell! Where did you come from?" Tom yelped as he backed away from the newcomer.

  Ronan ignored the police officer, turning instead toward Sloan and me. His eyes blazed with anger.

  "It's a good thing I've been keeping my ear to the wind. Are you trying to expose us?"

  I didn't know what to say to this. Our conversation with the Leprechaun had included words that were better not voiced outside: the Otherworld, Leprechaun, Deaglan. But this guy had just flitted in in front of humans, and now he was talking about fae matters in public. What was he thinking? Tom had taken a step back from the group, but he watched us through narrowed eyes. His right hand rested on his holster.

  "What's going on here, Mannus?"

  "What's your name, officer?" Ronan asked.

  "Ronan, what are you doing?"

  "Officer Lynch." Tom stared at Ronan, trying to figure the guy out. Before I could warn him, he made the mistake of locking eyes with him.

  "Officer Thomas Lynch, you will sit in your patrol car, turn off the lights, and wait there until I tell you to leave. When you drive away, on my command, you will forget everything you did today."

  I watched, outraged, as Tom followed Ronan's directions, moving as if in a trance. Once he was safely in his car, I turned on Ronan, disgusted by what he had just done.

  "How dare you hold Dominion over him? There wasn't any reason to do that until you popped in. He didn't hear anything we said earlier."

  "Someone has to take care of this situation. It's my responsibility to protect my people." He gestured toward the body still laying on the road. "Do you want to see this poor fae stuck here for the authorities to find out he's not human? Do you really want the police involved with this? I will handle it."

  "Like you handled the last murder? I've seen no progress happening on that." I glared at him as he stalked toward me. Max barked behind me and Sloan tried to settle him, but it barely registered. I smirked, anticipating what Ronan intended to do.

  "Alexander Timothy Mannus, sword bearer and mate to the King's Jewel, you will—"

  I chuckled, and he stopped mid-sentence. He had just proven what I had suspected for some time: the Sidhe couldn't hold Dominion over me. Not with my human name, at least.

  "My mother is a Sidhe, Ronan. Do you really think she wouldn't have protected me from enslavement to another's will, just like every other Sidhe mother? But I congratulate you on getting the details on my full human name. How long have you been planning this?"

  Unfortunately, now that Ronan had revealed himself, we had little choice but to find a way to cover up the murder. A dozen people stood at the end of the alley, blocked from the scene by the police car, but Lyle was nowhere to be seen.

  "What are you going to do about them?" I gestured at the people watching us.

  "That simple-minded group? They won't remember this either." I shook my head.

  "You really think very little of my people, don't you?"

  Ronan ignored me and turned to walk toward the crowd. I tapped Sloan's arm to get her attention and the two of us headed in the opposite direction. There was nothing I could do for the dead Leprechaun. I needed to speak with Gobban.

  The outside of the furniture
store looked peculiar. Parts of the exterior were pristine, while other sections had peeling paint and exposed bricks. The freshly painted stairs leading into the door had a patch down the middle of the top step with the paint scraped off and cracked wood.

  Sloan hurried in, the dog scurrying beside her as I scanned the neighborhood for any sign of suspicious activity. I entered after them and bolted the door behind me.

  "Did you see something?" Sloan asked, peering out the corner of the display window.

  "No, but someone out there is killing Leprechauns. I don't want to risk them barging in."

  The large showroom, usually crammed with furniture, was nearly empty. All the pieces that remained needed work, refinishing or reupholstering, before they could be sold. A dining room chair lay on its side, one leg broken. The odd condition of the showroom made me worry that we were too late. Had the killer already gotten to Gobban?

  Max was the only sign of movement in the place. He sniffed his way through the unfamiliar space, his nails clicking on the hardwood floors. Sloan and I raced toward a door along the back wall with a sign that read "Employees Only", the only other place Gobban could be.

  We found him sitting on a short-legged stool, hunched over a worktable and fiddling with something in his hands. Max ran over to him and stood on two legs, front paws on Gobban's thigh, his entire body dancing as his stump of a tail wagged furiously. Gobban glanced at the dog, only then noticing us standing at the door.

  "Dagnabbit, it's not ready yet!" I stared at him blankly, not knowing what he was talking about.

  "God, would you get off that, old man? Tressa didn't send us. She doesn't care when she gets the… whatever it is you're making."

  "She may not, but I do. I never leave a debt unpaid." Gobban glared at the girl, but Sloan just rolled her eyes.

  I took a moment to survey our surroundings, now that we knew Gobban was safe. We had entered a workroom for refinishing furniture; neatly organized shelves of tools lined the walls with sandpaper, stain, fabric and more. The worktable, low to the ground to accommodate Gobban's short stature, dominated the room. I leaned against it, half sitting, half standing.

  I turned my attention back to Gobban, noticing that the Leprechaun didn't look well. The hair that encircled the back of his otherwise bald head was thinner and more disheveled. His eyes were bloodshot. The lines on his face appeared deeper, though they softened when he patted the irrepressible Max's head.

  "So why have you come?" For the first time, Gobban took in the blade in Sloan's hand. She looked down, hardly realizing she still held it, and tossed it onto the table.

  "I came to ask you a question, but we ran into some trouble on the way," I said. "Another Leprechaun has been killed. He said he was looking for you."

  "Dagnabbit." He closed his eyes and hung his head. "My cousin, Roger. I was expecting him."

  I watched him as he took in the news, scrutinizing his reaction. He slumped, the lines on his face deepening. Yet something told me that, although saddened, the murder of his cousin didn't surprise him.

  "Killed how?" he asked.

  "The same as the first."

  "With one of these," Sloan said, pulling the arrow out of her bag. She held it out, but Gobban waved it away.

  "Have you ever seen this type of arrow before?" I asked. "I've searched all over the internet, but I haven't found anything like it."

  "Like I said, it's from Faery," Sloan said, annoyance in her voice.

  "The lass is right. It is of the Otherworld."

  "Do the symbols mean anything? Does it tell you what type of fae it belonged to? Is it another Leprechaun, a Seelie or an Unseelie? Can you tell me anything at all about who or what we're looking for?" Gobban shrugged.

  "The markings on the fletching are Unseelie. That is all I can say."

  "There's something else," I said. He narrowed his eyes as he lifted his withered gaze to meet mine, clinching his jaw as if preparing for a blow. "Before he died, Roger asked me to tell you something. He said 'Deaglan knows'. What does Mór know, Gobban?" My voice took on an edge, frustrated by his lack of information.

  "I need to get back to my work. I must finish this soon. You two should go." He turned away from us and pulled the carving from his pocket. I leapt up, ready to spin him around and force an answer, but Sloan's firm hand on my chest stopped me.

  "Gobban, was he trying to warn you? Was he trying to tell you that Deaglan knows you're here?" she asked. "Were the other Leprechauns mistakes? Is it possible that Roger was mistaken for you?"

  "Maybe." Gobban shook his head, not bothering to turn around to face us. "Or maybe not. We might all be the target. Impossible to know."

  "Your cousin had a harp tattooed on his chest. After all the shit the fae have given me about my tattoos, I'm thinking that's significant somehow."

  "Aye. It's a symbol of our clan and the sacred promise we made centuries ago."

  "What promise?" I asked. It seemed we were finally getting somewhere, but the stubborn Leprechaun pressed his lips together and refused to say more.

  My insides surged with rage, desperate to get a straight answer. I needed something to act against, something tangible to help me protect Tressa from the Unseelie Prince, but Sloan's thoughts remained on the threat to Gobban.

  "You need to come back to Pine Ridge with us," she said, her tone a command.

  "No!"

  "Nay!" Gobban and I said simultaneously. She spun on me first.

  "What's the matter with you?"

  "Bringing him to the estate will lead the assassin straight to Tressa." I didn't want to see harm come to the little guy, but I couldn't risk my family.

  "Shit, are you kidding me? With everything that's happened recently, and the crowd camped out for the wedding, there's no way anyone from Faery doesn't know exactly where she is by now. And you," she said, turning her outrage toward Gobban. "Someone is coming for you. Leaving with us is the best chance you have if you want to survive."

  "I've survived worse than this. Leave me be; I have work to do."

  "Fine," she conceded, looking back and forth between the two of us. "But if you're staying, I'm staying here with you."

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  TRESSA

  I snuck out the backdoor of the Manor House into the garden where Alexander often did his training exercises with the sword. The garden was empty now, which suited me fine; I had gone there to get away from everyone for a bit. Recently it had seemed like I never got a moment to myself.

  I strolled along the stone path that ran along the perimeter of the garden. The early spring flowers—tulips and daffodils—were already fading. Leaves pushed out of the buds on the branches, making the trees and bushes look alive again.

  The air smelled like rain, so I wasn't surprised when drops began to fall. I lifted my face, expecting the softness of a light spring shower to fall on me. Instead, the sprinkling of raindrops made way for a deluge. The rain came down so heavily that it bounced off the stone pavers.

  I threw my head back and laughed as it poured down, soaking my hair and my clothes. It seemed to help wash away the stress and horror and sadness of the past few days. I spread my arms and twirled in it, relishing its cleansing effect.

  "You'll get sick if you don't watch out."

  "Xander!" I cried out, happy but not surprised that he had found me. He came and kissed me, his warm lips pressed to mine. The desire in his touch told me that he yearned to be alone with me.

  "My god—you're freezing!"

  I hugged him around his torso and dropped my head to rest on his chest, instantly feeling warmer from the heat his body generated. He wrapped his arms around me in a bearhug.

  "I have some bad news," he said.

  "Me too. Let's not talk about that now." He nodded, and we stood snuggling with each other, rocking slightly back and forth as dusk fell. It didn't take long for Alexander to be as wet and cold as I was. He pulled away from our embrace and smiled down at me.

  "Tomorrow will be
one of the happiest days of my life. No matter what else happens—and who knows what else could happen—we will marry at last."

  I returned his smile, content that despite everything, what he said was true for me too. Tomorrow would be a grand day.

  We had planned the dinner party weeks ago. A meal the evening before the wedding, the twins explained when they told me about it, was traditional in this part of the world. They called it a rehearsal dinner, although we had nothing to rehearse. A meal with those dearest to me sounded much better than another loud and raucous affair.

  I took a hot shower to take away the chill from the rain and dressed carefully, wanting to look good for the occasion. Alexander, dashing in his suit and tie, escorted me down to the parlor. We found a solemn group waiting for us. I registered the room's atmosphere and sighed; my brief respite from life's harsh realities had come to an end.

  Matt and Holly sat on a sofa with their heads close together, looking at something on Matt's phone. The glow surrounding them was the only warmth in the room. John stood at the window, watching the rain and grumbling about needing to go home while Neve spoke to him in soothing tones. The twins sat uncharacteristically still and quiet; I had already shared the news from Kyla's Pixie with them.

  "Where's Sloan?" I asked. Shamus would have Sophia and Trayce with him, so she was the only guest missing.

  "She's staying with Gobban."

  "With Gobban? How did that happen?" My eyes went wide with astonishment; the two of them had never gotten along.

  "Hello everyone," said Alexander, planning to tell the story for everyone to hear. "I have sad news to share. I'd like to discuss it now, so we can try to have a pleasant dinner once we sit down." They all turned to listen to him, even his father, who seemed to react to the command in his voice.

  "Another Leprechaun died this afternoon—shot with an arrow, the same as the first. Gobban is okay. He wouldn't come here, so Sloan volunteered to stay with him tonight. She has the spearhead with her to protect them both."

  Alexander looked around the room for a reaction, but everyone sat in a brooding silence.