Page 107 of Crown of the Fae King

The hammer was all lined up. His heart was going to take two blows. The first, from me ignoring him. The second, when he found out the truth about his family. Sadly, my heart was the hammer, and when it hit, Griffon wouldn’t be the only one to suffer.

I wondered how powerful Wickham’s enchantments were. Would they hold up if an angry Fae came sniffing down the street, hungry for revenge?

I hoped so.

The six of us checked into the Maldron Hotel in Dublin, removed from the main drag. The next morning, Urban and Everly went to Trinity Library and played tourists. The rest of us went to a small park and Kitch began teaching me how to defend myself.

“Offensive moves will come later,” he said.

“I hope not much later.”

Every time I took a blow, I tightened my gut…and hardened a little more of my heart. I needed to get back to my old, non-emotional self. Ideally, if I ever had to face Griffon again, he wouldn’t recognize me.

Everly brought back maps and pamphlets from their tours. We were able to show them where the antiquities were being stored, if they hadn’t been stolen, and if they hadn’t been moved into storage for the remodel. They weren’t expected to look for the books, but they should be able to spot Aurora O’Connor if they moved in the same general area of her department.

The second day, after our Fairy Hunters headed off to do their work, we returned to the little park for practice. After lunch, we went back to our rooms, and once Persi and I were alone, she said she’d show me a couple of her favorite attack moves.

“You need to have something under your belt. Monsters won’t work on our timeline. If they showed up at our door, you wouldn’t stand much of a chance.”

We practiced as quietly as possible, so Wickham and Kitch, next door, wouldn’t know what we were doing. After twenty minutes, I cried uncle. I was worn out.

“You have good instincts,” she said, surprised. “You’re observant. You look for openings. For your first go round, you did very well. Your chances of survival are better than I expected.”

I nodded, still sucking in air. “Not my first time being attacked, you know?”

“Right.”

“And I really wish you’d stop using that word.”

“What word?”

“Survival.”

I called for the bathroom first and took a nice tepid shower. Kept my mind clear. No tears.

At five o’clock,Wickham knocked on the door. “They found her. Following now. Going to call when she stops, so we need to be ready to move.” He glanced over my outfit of black jeans, gray tee, and black leather jacket, then lifted his chin at Persi, standing at my shoulder. “Everyone has their silver and iron?”

We did.

Kitch was holding a cab at the curb. When Wickham’s phone buzzed, we climbed inside. Instead of an address, he gave the driver the name of two streets, Haddington Road and Percy Place. Stone-faced, we ignored the passing scenery and the Grand Canal while we psyched ourselves up. We had no plan because we didn’t know where we would find this woman. We just had to wing it and hope for the best.

“I ken how to stop a witch,” Wickham had confessed, “but I dinnae ken what will stop the Fae. There are just too many species. No two are alike. We can only try what we know and if that fails, we try the next thing.” Silver first. Iron as a last resort since it was thought to work only against lesser creatures.

Apparently.

The taxi stopped near the intersecting streets in a residential area. The streets were lined with townhouses and apartment buildings. We all got out and waited while Wickham consulted his phone once again. “They’re at The 51, further up, toward St. Mary’s.”

We found the bar a block away, halfway to the gothic church tower in the distance. Everly and Urban waited on a bench across the street and down a little further. Without his pretty blue kilt, he was a little harder to pick out. Since O’Connor had seen them in the library, she’d know she was being followed if they happened to show up at the same bar.

They’d sent Wickham a picture of a woman in a mustard yellow jacket, which he showed to us.

I had Hank with me. Since the henna tattoo had worked with O’Ryan, I wasn’t worried this woman would sense mycloch realta.I’d asked Wickham, the night before, if he would make it permanent. He promised to do it once we were back at Hope House. “The road is no place to care for a new tattoo.”

The 51 had a glass sunroom on the front of the building. Inside was reasonably bright considering the long black bar along one side. Plenty of lighting in the dark corners, but enough shadows to hide a little bit of ugly. There were booths down the right side of the aisle. We side-stepped around a waitress taking an order and continued on, Wickham in the lead, me, Persi, then Kitch bringing up the rear.

The woman we were looking for was in the furthest booth, smiling at a man with his broad back to us. She laughed, then sobered when she gave Wickham a second look--a common occurrence. Then she smiled and said something to her date, who turned to look.

My heart stopped. My brain stopped.

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