by Gavin Green
***
The latest pouring of rain had passed, but low dark clouds remained as a warning that more was to come. The dark gray SUV drove under that menacing sky and splashed its way down a drenched rural lane. Brody finally shut off the wipers just before reaching his destination. After turning into the short gravel driveway, he stepped out of the car while Kate remained seated, typing into her laptop.
Hearing the distant honk of geese, Brody looked across the surrounding fields and saw a small flock heading north, with a very large avian pursuing them. Within a few seconds, the birds were only dots on the gloomy horizon. Brody returned his attention to Kate and gave a loud "ahem" before shutting his door.
It was another moment before Kate closed the laptop and got out of the car. "Sorry about that, love. I just had to finish up a statement." She looked at the modest but appealing little bungalow they'd come to visit, which had recently been refurbished and landscaped.
"Kate," Brody said with a sigh, "I know you said you wanted to come with me, but I wouldn't have been offended if you stayed at home with the dogs. I know you're busy updating stuff, and I'm only checking to see how things look at a few of the places. It's no big deal." He didn't mind if she wasn't as openly enthusiastic about the progress of some of their ventures, but asking to come with him and then busying herself with other projects lowered his own zeal.
Looking back at him, Kate took a quick glimpse of Brody's nimbus and tried to assure him. "Honestly, I want to see all the work that's been going on. I just needed to clear a few things off so there'd be no further distractions" She gave him a warm, open smile and then turned to the charming, solitary abode. "This is quite attractive," she commented. "I think the red shudders and door against the whitewash works well. Quite appealing, don't you think?"
"Yeah, that color sure as hell pops." Brody walked beyond the rear of the car to look at the recently planted shrubs along the front lawn, parallel to the lane. "Father Doyle said these bushes will get pretty big and bloom red and white flowers from spring into autumn."
Kate turned from the house to him. "That sounds grand. Could we do something like at the cottage? Some white flowering bushes near the gate?"
Brody gave a half-hearted scowl. "I remember asking your opinion when I first started planting trees and bushes, and you thought it looked fine as it was."
Mocking him with a similar expression, Kate retorted with, "And I remember that I wasn't living there when you asked, so I didn't give a donkey's arse about your shrubbery."
He couldn't help but laugh out loud. Kate's inhibitions and self-doubts, at least around Brody, had become a thing of the past. He attributed her fae-sight for that newly found confidence, although he would have been just as happy if they went without any of the Other Crowd's influence, heritage, or graces. Still, she was a daily source of smiles, warmth, desire, and inspiration.
Brody was about to suggest they take a look inside when they both heard an odd-sounding vehicle coming up the lane. He knew immediately that it was a motorcycle, what some Americans would call a crotch-rocket. Kate had an idea what the high whine was, but was unaccustomed to them in that part of the country, let alone out on a rural road.
As Kate looked in the direction of the approaching motorbike, she thought she saw a small glimmer of color up in the sky against the dark backdrop of clouds. Looking again, she saw nothing, and so returned her attention to the sports bike and its rider, who came to a stop at the end of the gravel driveway. Seeing the leather-clad rider's nimbus, Kate's mild curiosity turned to fearful alarm.
Seeing the young man's long blonde hair under his small helmet, Brody recognized the rider and took a few short steps to him as the man turned off the purring engine. "Mornin', you're Devin, right?"
The younger man took off his helmet. "Devlin - it's Devlin," He said as he shook out his hair.
"Devlin, right - sorry, I suck at names," Brody replied, trying to be amicable simply for the sake of being polite. He remembered meeting George Moynihan's grandson a week or so ago when he went to make further arrangements for hay, and to see how Ruby was doing with her illness. Sitting on George's small porch, Devlin was polite enough, but had an air of arrogance in his retro eighties attire. Brody had no wish to be social with the pseudo-rocker then, relative of George or not.
At their first meeting, the young man showed little interest in Brody as well, so he wondered why Devlin was stopping to say hello this time. "Looks like kind of a crappy day to be out riding around. What brings you way out here?"
Devlin set his helmet on the bike's seat and came around to the front of it. Raising a finger in Kate's direction, he said, "Her."
Brody's surprised gaze went from Devlin to Kate. Barely registering her stricken expression, he said, "Darlin'? Do you know -?"
Kate cut him off with a hoarse whisper. "Brody... dark sparkles."
Devlin turned back to Brody, curious of their interaction. He was more inclined to fix the breach of Enigma once and for all, however, and impatient to be done with it. Just for the insult, for whatever local fae who had a care, Devlin decided to scramble these human's minds while he adjusted their memories. Leaving this protected couple as little more than drooling children would let everyone know who they were dealing with, and what to expect if they defied him.
He looked up into Brody's surprised eyes, light blue to steely grey, and caught him in an entrancing stare. "Turn away and wait; your time will come soon enough."
Without meaning to, Brody turned toward the small road and field beyond, his legs following the command without his approval. A moment later, Devlin bellowed, "Kate McCarthy, show yourself!"
With a surge of protective rage, Brody forced himself to spin back around. Devlin was only a stride further away than before, and Kate was nowhere to be seen. With a growl, Brody took a quick step and grabbed Devlin by his leather collar. He didn't need Kate's nimbus to know that this trickster had bad motives. Brody let his anger loose to counter Devlin's intentions.
The Fair fae spun his head around in surprise, but it quickly turned into an annoyed frown. With inhuman speed, Devlin backhanded the big man, unconcerned whether the blow merely stunned him or broke his neck. Even with his size, the human was no match for him. What Devlin didn't expect was for Lynch to barely flinch from the strike. Even more surprising was when Devlin found himself flat on his back on the wet lawn after the big man gave a punishing backhand of his own.
Brody stood over the surprised young fae, and absently felt his big fists hardening and grinding as he clenched them. "If you're gonna bitch-slap somebody," he said through gritted teeth, "do it right."
Faster than any human could move, Devlin rolled and spun away from his opponent. In the midst of the freakishly fast escape, he dropped his manifestation, knowing the couple would be glamoured or dead before he was finished there anyway.
The young man with the retro rocker outfit was replaced by a taller form with oddly angular facial features and long, straight lemon-blonde hair. The leather jacket and parachute pants were replaced with fine black clothing under a few plates of lacquered yellow wooden armor. He wore no helm or gauntlets, but his breastplate, pauldrons, vambraces, and greaves were scrolled with intricate black detail. The armor was as nearly effective as it was aesthetic.
With a flash of movement, Devlin pulled out a crude but gleaming-sharp dagger. "So, yet another slumming troll, eh?" said the Fair fae as he moved gracefully on the balls of his feet, circling his adversary to the left. "Your kind will ever be mocked for your charities, catering to these weak folk."
Devlin was only slightly concerned; Lynch appeared braver than most fae when faced with a hand-wrought iron weapon, but the magistrate was confident in his own melee skills. 'This lumbering troll will soon learn to respect my skill,' he thought as he moved slowly and waited for an opening.
Faster than expected, Brody threw an arcing punch, like swinging a mallet. Devlin had misjudged the speed of his large opponent, and couldn't f
ully evade in time. What would have been a hammering blow to his head instead connected with his left pauldron, and fractured it. Devlin spun away, rolling with the blow, and kept his distance while he willed away the pain that throbbed down his left arm.
In quick retaliation, the blade arced in under Brody's raised fists and across his ribs. It was a long, shallow cut through his jumper and shirt, and the blood flowed freely. Devlin retreated in confusion; he expected to hear and see different results. Damage to another fae with his dagger always caused the skin to sizzle, and the blood to bubble and froth. Lynch should have been writhing in pain, but instead he mostly looked furious.
Brody knew that he was outmatched in skill. Even though he had the physical tools, using them in aggression was a rare thing since high school football. Brody hadn't been in many fights, and never wanted to be, but he knew the stakes were higher in this combat than in any common scuffle. If he were to lose, then Kate would be at this fae's mercy if she was found. That was unacceptable.
He began plying his stone gift defensively, hardening his skin to fend off any of Devlin's lightning-fast attacks. Beyond that, he could only hope for a bit of luck for a grapple or punch to end it. That hope was a frail thing when faced with the superhuman dexterity of an opponent who kept on the move, dancing in and out while he circled.
Devlin lunged in once, twice more, and then sprung back to survey the damage. On the second strike, the blade was deflected with a grating sound. He assumed that the troll, or whatever he was, must have something akin to the gift of stone, uncommon as that ability was.
The only tactic Devlin could think of to counter it was to work his way in close, enchant his big foe to drop his defenses, and strike quickly before he resumed his anger. Devlin was content to inflict lesser wounds; it would tire and weaken his opponent and give the Fair fae more time to gloat over his lumbering, faltering adversary. He could then deliver the killing blow at his leisure.
They circled and prowled each other, lunging, feigning, and evading. Brody's shirt and jacket soon were in ribbons and tatters, stained dark with blood. He charged or swung in his slackening attempts repay some of the damage he was taking, but with Devlin's inhuman quickness he felt slow and clumsy. He was only vaguely aware of the various stabs and slashes and the blood that seeped from them; only dim recognition of his sheen of sweat and panting breath.
Devlin was still as fast as ever, with only a broken pauldron and a cracked breastplate to show for the few mostly ineffectual blows Brody had managed to land. The Fair fae began flashing a sly smirk while the fight wore on. He'd then duck or spin his way close, entrance Lynch, tell him "relax", move for another cut, and then evade to a safe distance before those big, stony hands could touch him. Over and over Devlin used that mostly-successful tactic, and saw his foe wearing down.
Wanting to taunt his waning foe, Devlin retreated further. With a chuffing sigh, he said, "Your effort is in vain. But, to be gracious, I will offer you a choice of two fates. You can walk away now and live with the shame of your defeat, or you can lower your guard and I give my word to end it quickly."
Even with Devlin further back, Brody knew better than to relax; the fae could pounce and recoil before he could raise his guard again. He thought of any other tactics to employ before he was too weak. Devlin was in constant movement, but his knife was always out in front of him.
Brody clenched his fists in weary frustration, and a desperate idea formed. He'd been thinking with a normal person's frailties, and it had cost him. No more. All he needed was a way to provoke Devlin into recklessness; the fae's bloated ego was the obvious target. He took a deep breath and smiled while keeping his open hands out in front of him. "You haven't been able to 'end it' at all. What, are you gettin' worried? Lookin' for a way out? Go ahead, run away, fairy; now's your chance."
Devlin relaxed a bit more and chuckled quietly. "Leave, when I'm about to put down a troll warrior? Even if you are only most likely a young median, your defeat will only bolster my renown." His smile grew even wider as he tossed the blade from hand to hand with alacrity.
With an incredulous stare, Brody took a step back. "You really think I'm one of your people - a fucking fairy? Look at my blood, you idiot. It's darker than fairy blood… You know, like a human's?" He slowly shook his head in pity. "God, you're pathetic. You must get laughed at back home."
The sneer of his fae opponent turned into a snarling scowl, and he squeezed the knife hilt hard in his right hand. "Pathetic, you say?! It is I, Devlin Ryder, magistrate to the Circle of Prudence, who has the upper hand here. No matter what manner of creature you are, my victory is assured. You never had a chance, and offered me a sad martial performance as well. Now that is pathetic."
Brody edged back another foot nearer his car, wearing a curious smile while he appeared to lower his defensive posture. "Wait a minute, you're a... magistrate? Like some sort of law man?"
His opponent's sudden laughter incensed Devlin; that the defeated would mock the victor, not to mention of fae of his caliber.
Brody stopped his insulting mirth before Devlin could close the distance. "How would you tell that story? Something like, 'Devlin, law man of the fae, unable to kill an unarmed human'. Oh yeah, brag about that one, you worthless piece of shit."
Devlin set his jaw and started toward Brody. "Your mouth is as tiresome as your wretched skills in combat," he said with gritted teeth. "It is time for both to cease." The fae made no circling tactics or agile feints for what he planned to be the last engagement. With fast, intimidating strides, he went directly at his opponent.
Brody still appeared winded, crouched with his left hand out in a feeble defensive gesture. He hoped the arrogant fae would take the bait and go for the offered target.
Devlin could tell by the skin coloration that the large outstretched hand was unprotected by his stone gift. The easy target would be the last insulting infliction before he finished the irritating human once and for all.
Brody tensed in preparation for the pain. The long dagger plunged through his left palm and out the back, scraping a metacarpal bone on its way through. Before the nerve endings could send their screaming message to his brain, Brody turned his hand to stone. The crude blade, formerly impaled through flesh, was then embedded in granite.
Devlin attempted to tug his dagger free, but to no avail. He brought his left hand up to the hilt for a stronger pull, and prepared to wrench it free.
With Devlin momentarily stationary, Brody reached out with his stony right hand and grasped the fae's left wrist in a bone-grinding grip.
Frozen in pain, Devlin saw his hand pulled away from the handle. He looked up into Brody's eyes and saw not a tired, wounded man on the verge of defeat, but the grim determination of a powerful foe.
Without dramatic pause, Brody suddenly and violently twisted Devlin's arm. Bones in the fae's wrist and forearm audibly cracked and snapped, tendons gruesomely tore and noisily popped, all in one simultaneous and sickening cacophony. Before Devlin could issue a howl of pain, Brody turned to the left and yanked the fae forward by his useless, agonizing arm.
With speed borne of necessity - before Devlin could heal himself - Brody slammed the fae's slack left hand down on the hood of the car. Almost simultaneously, he lifted his impaled hand and brought it down, palm up, onto Devlin's restrained hand.
The blade drove down through its owner's palm and into the engine hood. Just as Brody twisted his left hand to snap the blade off and leave Devlin pinned, the fae let out a terrible, high-pitched scream that echoed across the fields.
Brody took a moment to look at the broken blade pierced through Devlin's flesh. The skin around the puncture sizzled like bacon thrown onto a hot griddle. The violet blood bubbled as it oozed out of the wounds from both sides of his hand. From it, there was a faint, sickly sweet odor of rotting meat mixed with citrus that wafted in the morning air.
The fae's scream died off, only to be replaced by incoherent babble and short howls
of agony. Brody walked around and faced Devlin. He remembered Liadan's words, that any fae in contact with hand-wrought iron was blocked from any of its abilities; he was no longer in any danger from Devlin.
Just as the quivering fae was about to speak, Brody stepped forward and delivered a stone-hard head-butt on the bridge of Devlin's nose. The crunch of cartilage was more felt than heard. With his hand pinned, the fae swung limply back against the car. Pulling his otherworldly enemy back upright, Brody said, "That was for messing with George and Ruby."
He held Devlin straight, noticing his flattened and crooked nose oozing violet blood from the nostrils. Another flare of anger came over Brody, and he threw a hard, hooking punch into the side of Devlin's chest. Chips and splinters of lacquered wooden armor flew in all directions away from the crushing impact. Ribs were driven inward, making the swooning Devlin gasp and crumple. "That was for even thinking of going after Kate." He took a deep breath and waited for his beaten adversary to attain some semblance of cognition.
Devlin finally looked up with eyes both watery and wild from the searing pain that shot through his body. It wasn't pity that struck Brody, although he had no heart for murder, however justified. Nor could he kill out of omission, and let Devlin slowly die from his own knife wound. It would have been like watching a wounded animal, and neither assisting it nor putting it out of its misery.
Brody turned his gaze down to Devlin's impaled hand; it was trembling and twitching, and had turned an ugly purple and black with dark veiny lines running up his ruined arm. He then looked directly into the fae's eyes, no longer concerned of being enchanted. "Go back and tell your masters that Kate McCarthy is off-limits. I won't let you die, but don't take my kindness for weakness. If you go near Kate again, or any of her family for that matter," Brody leaned in, "I will kill you."
Knowing it would take Devlin a greater time to heal his grievous wounds, Brody still hesitated before he reached a hardened hand out and gripped the blade with thumb and index finger. The metal was unkindly yanked out of the car hood and through Devlin's hand, eliciting yet another scream.
Grasping his blackened hand, the defeated Devlin raised his eyes to Brody's. With jagged, rasping breaths, he said, "I would have... let you... walk away." It was as close to a plea as the proud fae would make.
Brody gave short shake of his head. "That was a pretty stupid thing to say." He then reared his arm back with the last of his reserves. The stony grey right fist shot forward and made jarring impact with Devlin's jaw. The punch was so forceful that the fae's body remained stationary while his skull took the brunt, snapping it around nearly 180 degrees with a grisly crack.
As Brody followed through with the punch that sapped the last of his energy and anger, he watched, seemingly in slow motion, as the lemon-yellow hair swung loosely while the battered body of Devlin Ryder fell to the lawn like timber.
Dropping exhausted to one hand and his knees, Brody looked over to see the fae's body dissipate in a slow display of tiny flickering lights and colorful dust; both lazily rose in gentle swirls and scattered in the breeze. Devlin's motorcycle at the end of the driveway inexplicably followed suit.
"Brody!" Kate screamed, her 'blending' defense mechanism forgotten. She sprung from her squatted position next to a shrub near the door of the bungalow, and raced the short distance to where her love lay on the wet lawn. His clothing was in shreds, and bloody from knee to neck. "Oh dear Lord, Brody!" She knelt in front of him, careful not to let her knees hit his left hand; it was curled in front of him with a leather-wrapped bone handle sticking out of it.
Kate placed a trembling hand on Brody's right shoulder, one of the few areas on his torso without a wound. As tears began rolling down her soft cheeks, she haltingly whispered, "I - I'm sorry! Oh Jesus, I'm so sorry! I saw his nimbus, and I was so afraid. I - I froze. I couldn't make myself move to help you. I could have -"
"No, Kate," Brody said tiredly with his lids half open. He placed his right hand on her thigh and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "You did the right thing. You would've put yourself in harm's way… It would've distracted me. I'm glad you're safe." His eyes slid shut as he rested his head on his left bicep.
Kate felt so helpless, afraid of how bad some of his wounds might be, unsure of what to do next. Her hands were shaking and her eyes kept watering up, but she knew she'd have to compose herself or he'd die without attention soon. "Love, can you move? We need to get you help. It'll take too long to get an ambulance here." She stifled a sob and put a hand softly on his cheek.
Brody blinked and looked up into Kate's big, scared eyes. He smiled weakly and said, "Let me just catch my breath for a sec, darlin'." His gaze shifted just beyond her and glibly said, "Hiya, Liadan. You're a little late; you missed all the fun."
Kate spun her head around to see the tiny fae a respectful distance back, hovering a few feet off the ground. "Not all of it, I'd say, Mr. Lynch," Liadan replied with a simple smile. "I arrived just as you made that foolhardy sacrifice and managed to send the magistrate home for a time, I did."
Still looking back, Kate asked, "How did you, em… Why are you all the way out here, Liadan?"
Liadan hovered to them and gently landed on the lawn. "Suffice it to say I received word there might be a scuffle hereabouts. And no offense to ye, Miss Kate, but now's not the time for idle chat; Mr. Brody here needs a bit of tendin' to, I'd say." She looked Brody over as he laid there in stoic pain, and planted her hands on her wide hips. "Made a right mess of yerself, ye have. Now let's get to cleanin' ya up a touch afore Miss Kate frets to death."
With softly glowing hands held over the various lacerations and stab wounds, Liadan employed her healing gift. As the hands passed over each bloody injury, the skin closed and began an accelerated mend. She had to have Kate lay across Brody's arm to hold it down while the remainder of the dagger was extracted, with Liadan careful not to touch the broken section of metal. Brody couldn't help but yell through gritted teeth when it was pulled out, but otherwise only winced as the deeper cuts were closed. The tiny brownie finally stepped back and nodded to Kate with a warm, dimpled smile.
Kate knelt next to Brody's large prone form and leaned over him. He was pale, but his breathing was deep and even. Liadan's mending left only pink skin in place of the wounds and would leave no scars. Looking back to his handsome face, Kate's eyes met his. He grinned at her and pressed his cool palm to her cheek, his thumb wiping away a trickling tear. She smiled back and said, "Tell me you're well. Please, Brody, I need to hear you say it."
"Just tired… and maybe a little dizzy. It's nothin' to worry about, darlin'." He slowly sat up. "I hate to see you cry, but at least you're smiling this time."
"Yes, well," Kate sniffed with a grin," only when you're a tara mess, so don't let it happen again."
"Yes, dear," he sighed.
They all heard another vehicle approaching. Brody and Kate craned their necks and soon saw Jack's work truck nearly flying down the waterlogged lane. The couple stood as the truck came to a sliding stop in front of the bungalow. Kate turned to the retreating Liadan and harshly whispered, "Please, my brother can't remember what he sees here. Please, Liadan!" The brownie's only response was to nod and then disappeared from normal sight.
Jack burst from his truck in the middle of the lane, leaving the door open as he ran to them. His eyes locked onto Brody, wearing tattered and bloody clothes. "Holy fuck, mate! What happened?"
Before Brody could respond, Kate asked, "Jack, how in Heaven did you know where we were? What are you doing here?"
Jack's frown turned into a crooked grin. "I can't rightly say, sis. The Gavin boys and I were out bidding a site when I got this queer pull in my gut, and I got this overwhelmin' feeling that you and Brody were in a bad spot. I just hopped in the truck, ignored my phone, and followed that pull." He looked back to Brody, scanning his friend's horrid appearance. "Seems I was right, eh?"
Liadan appeared behind Jack's head, one hand out, nearly touching his tous
led hair. She mumbled a few words. Jack's expression went from wild excitement to simple confusion. "Well, um," he said vacantly, "thanks for lettin' me see the place. I'll see if Dan or Tom is interested. I, um… I need to get back before the wind goes Baltic." With slow, hesitant steps, Jack turned and walked back to his truck. He gave one quick, unsure wave and drove off.
Kate visibly slumped, and Brody let out a deep breath. Liadan allowed her form to be seen again, hovering closer to Kate. A glint caught Brody's eye and he moved away from the two. Kate looked up to the fae, who was smoothing her apron. "Thank you for that, but especially for saving Brody. I am in your debt."
"All I did was to save ya some tough explanations down the road. I'm sure Mr. Brody would have made it through just fine without me giving a hand. As for that one named Jack… your good brother, ma'am? He's got a touch of a seer's gift. It should be tempered with patience and wisdom, if he be such a man."
Grinning wide, Kate replied, "A bit of wisdom, perhaps, but patience?" She shook her head ruefully. "And don't play yourself off so casually. If there is anything we can possibly do for you, all you have to do is ask."
Liadan raised her brows as she cocked her head to the side. "Well, if ye be feelin' up to it, I might ask ya to plant some bluebells come spring. I'd help tend to them, a' course. Oh, and if you're inclined, ye could leave out a cup of cream now and again." Her deep dimples made another appearance. "That is, if it's no trouble, ma'am."
Kate smiled back. "Bluebells sound grand, and we'll leave a pint of cream out every Sabbath evening. You're welcome in our home at any time. That may not sound exceptional, but it's a big step for us."
"It really is," Brody said from across the small front lawn, "but you've proved your friendship, and then some. You'll always be welcome."
"A kind gesture it is, and with me knowing some of the other visitors to your land, both good and bad, I realize the weight of the offer."
Kate was still looking over at Brody. "What is that?"
He smiled and flipped the broken length of the dagger blade in his hand. "A sort of keepsake," he answered, and then looked at Liadan. "Again, like Kate said, thank you. I, uh, hate to be rude, but..." he turned to Kate and asked, "Darlin', would you mind driving me home? I'm exhausted, and I'm startin' to freeze my ass off."