Page 66 of Wine & Warlocks

“But she’s here now, Reginald, me boy,” a voice purred from behind her. “I’m after thinking we should give her a room of her own, yeah?”

Heart hammering out of her chest, Dubheasa spun to see Castor’s twin reclining against the bars of a cell diagonal to them. The difference was slighter than she’d imagined. Loman had more bulk, shorter hair, and soulless eyes.

“Run, Dubheasa,” Reggie hissed in a low voice. “As if your fucking life depends on it, because it bloody well does.”

“Sure, and it would be a feckin’ shame if ya left without greetin’ your host, girl. One would question your upbringin’, yeah?”

Loman’s taunts fueled a hereto-unknown anger within her for his cruelty. Toward Reggie, toward Ronan, toward all the poor souls trapped within the walls of this dreary prison. “And would it have been better to be spawned and raised byyou, ya fecking gobshite?” she snarled.

Reggie made a grab for her as she started forward, screaming in agony at the instantaneous second-degree burn he received from crossing the magical barrier that held him captive.

“Reggie!” Her helplessness to ease his pain fed the fire raging within her.

Loman’s sadistic laughter rang out as Reggie cradled his arm to his chest. “Now, Reginald, ya had to know the consequences. You’ve seen it often enough, yeah?”

“Go bugger yourself, old man!”

“You’ll never learn, boyo.” Not bothering to straighten, Loman touched his bracelet.

The symbol above the cell lit, and a blue light traveled from the sigil, down along the walls, and illuminated the stones underneath Reggie’s feet. Fear filled his light jade eyes an instant before a scream was wrenched from his throat and echoed down the corridor. His body convulsed for what seemed like forever before the supercharged floor shut off and he collapsed on the ground.

Dubheasa wanted to tear through the barrier to get to him, to see if he still lived, but doing so would cost her own life. As she faced Loman, her gaze locked onto the three-inch-wide steel bracelet around his wrist. The blue light slowly faded from the sigil matching the one above the cells. That damned band had to be how Loman was maintaining the enchantment to contain his prisoners.

“He’ll live to mouth off another day, girl. Don’t waste your tears on the likes of him,” Loman sneered.

Unaware she’d been crying, Dubheasa swiped her fingers beneath her eyes. Sure enough, they came back wet. “At least someone cares enough about him to shed a tear. You’ll go to your grave with no one to mourn you,” she taunted.

“I’ve been to me grave twice already. Ya think it breaks me heart to have no mourners?” His bark of laughter was harsh and caused her skin to prickle. “I’ve no fear of death.”

“You should, because it’s coming for you soon enough.”

Contempt curled his lip. “Not from the likes of you. You’re a weak fool, ya are.”

From the shadows of the cell behind him, Dubheasa detected movement, but she was quick to ignore it. Whoever, whatever, was in that cell was not her primary concern. Somehow, she had to get away from Loman, and her chances appeared slim at that moment. The island was massive, and the compound housed at least ten prisons with hundreds of cellblocks. Some of which, like the one she was in, weren’t connected to the central building at all. The rescue team she’d arrived with was spread thinly, her earpiece was no longer transmitting, and her telepathic connection to Ronan had gone by way of her abilities, so rescue wasn’t likely to be imminent.

“Weak?” She snorted. “I’m imagining everyone is weak to your limited way of thinking, yeah?”

“Aye.”

He straightened from the bars, and it startled Dubheasa to realize he was as big and intimidating as Ronan. He might be Castor’s identical twin, but this guy wore his bulk in the most threatening of manners. Neither Ronan’s nor Castor’s size had caused her a moment of fear, but Loman made her feel diminutive in comparison. Added to the fact that she was powerless, where he had magic on his side, and her predicament became more perilous.

Again, the shadows behind him shifted, and again, she ignored the movement.

“You have plenty of abilities, O’Connor.” The smile she gave him was one she’d used on recalcitrant clients during her days at Lamda. Designed to cajole and charm, it had worked about ninety percent of the time. “You could afford to let Reggie and me go.”

Distaste curled his mouth downward, and he shook his head. “You O’Malleys! Cowards, the lot of ya! And when I’m done with these pitiful eejits, I’ll be retrieving what ya owe me, to be sure.”

Righteous anger gripped her, and she dropped the pretense.

“Owe you?” She scoffed. “We owe you nothing, Loman O’Connor. Nothing but a poisoned bullet to that dead black heart of yours. What you had from us, your family stole, and it was never yours to begin with!”

“Hold yourwhist, or I’ll spell ya to silence, ya bleedin’ she-devil!” Hands curled into fists, he looked ready to pummel her under those meaty weapons of his. “I—ugh—”

Thick, muscular arms plunged through the bars and wrapped around Loman’s neck in a stranglehold. Blisters broke along the rapidly darkening skin, and the man’s agony was made obvious by his guttural yell.

“Get the bracelet, Dubheasa!” the prisoner ordered. “Hurry, girl!”

Diving into action, she bolted across the aisle and grabbed hold of Loman’s right wrist. He fought like a demon possessed, even as his face turned purple from lack of air. Between clawing at his captor’s face and swinging at her, Loman made it difficult to remove the band. The clasp was tricky, and the precious seconds it took to unclip it caused Dubheasa to sweat. Just as she believed success was within her grasp, Loman’s hammer of a fist grazed her jaw and knocked her down. Hitting the floor, she lost her grip on the bracelet, and it skittered through the bars of Reggie’s cell.

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