Total pages in book: 194
Estimated words: 187021 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 935(@200wpm)___ 748(@250wpm)___ 623(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 187021 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 935(@200wpm)___ 748(@250wpm)___ 623(@300wpm)
And through everything—the wards, the security, the case—she could feel the spear there. A humming under her fingers that called to her. It had gotten stronger once the spell on her was broken, like a metal detector vibrating to life as she got near the thing.
“So did you get the bracelet?” Gen asked.
“Yep. In there.” Kierse pointed to her purse. “Thanks to Graves.”
Gen chuckled as she pulled the bangle from the purse. “Tell me the whole story.”
Kierse relayed what had happened last night as she got through her locking system and opened the case to reveal the Spear of Lugh. It wasn’t a long-handled spear like she’d first assumed it would be. Instead, it was a handheld spear, for thrusting and parrying and slicing. The thing had an iron blade attached to an ash handle that somehow looked brand new and not hundreds of years old.
She reached a shaky hand into the case and touched the spear.
The spear said, Hello, old friend.
And then its normal bullshit, Who are we killing today?
Kierse laughed and pushed aside the thought. No killing today.
The first time she had wielded the spear, it had imposed its will upon her. Kill thy enemies. Use me. Conquer the world. That sort of refrain. And while it still generally wanted to be used as the weapon it was, it had gotten, dare she say, used to her.
Gen shivered. “You should put that thing away.”
“I think I’m going to bring it into the market.”
She pulled it out of its case and twirled it expertly. She’d been practicing with it. Partially to get used to its particular weight and partially because she liked the weight of it in her hand.
“What? That’s a horrible idea.”
“I’ll glamour it,” Kierse told her. “Don’t worry.”
Gen snorted. “Worry is my birth right. How can I not worry about you?”
“Well, don’t worry about this. My glamours are improving.”
“They’re not that good yet.”
Kierse shrugged. “Fine. Fine.” She set the spear back into the case. “Maybe it’s not the best idea.”
“I feel like I should go with you, but that place creeps me out.”
“No,” Kierse said at once. “I don’t want you to go in there.”
The thought jostled her out of her reverie. She hid the spear away again. For a second, she felt as if she could still hear the echo of the spear’s murderous refrain, but it was there and gone.
“I know. I know. I just wish I could play point like Ethan.”
“I miss him,” Kierse muttered.
“Same,” Gen agreed.
Neither of them commented on his radio silence. Clearly it was Lorcan’s doing, and Kierse didn’t want to reach out to the head of the Druids to get answers. It was likely part of his plan to get to her, anyway.
“But I wouldn’t let Ethan follow me into the market, either,” Kierse told her quickly. “And I’d worry about you the whole time. It’d make me reckless.”
“As if you aren’t already reckless,” Gen said with a laugh.
“Fair.”
“But Graves is going to go in with you?” Gen guessed.
Kierse smothered a smile. “The bastard insisted.”
“Shocking,” Gen said with dripping sarcasm.
“I’ll be safe,” Kierse promised.
“Safe isn’t in your vocabulary.”
A knock from the front door interrupted their conversation. “You’re not wrong,” Kierse said as she left her bedroom and headed into the main room. “Think it’s Niamh?”
“I thought she was working today,” Gen said on her heels.
Graves had his head in a book but looked up when they emerged. Kierse pulled the door open and found a tall, stunning woman with burgundy hair down to her mid-back standing at the door.
“Hey, Niamh,” Kierse said.
“Hey! Heard you’re back!” Niamh said. She wore an impractically short, pleated mini skirt straight out of a Catholic school uniform with a white polo tucked in and lug sole loafers.
Kierse put her hand on the warding to let her friend inside. “I thought you’d be at the bookstore.”
“My shift starts in a few minutes. Heard your door open and…” She gestured to herself as she crossed the threshold.
“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” Graves said.
Niamh turned her attention to Graves, who was now standing. “Well hello, handsome.”
He immediately moved into a defensive stance. “Get the fuck out.”
“Uh…do you know one another?” Kierse asked in confusion.
“This is the robin.”
Chapter Twelve
“The…robin,” Kierse repeated, uncomprehending.
“What’s the robin?” Gen asked.
Graves looked between them as if personally affronted by their lack of knowledge. Niamh cocked one hip and flipped her hair, waiting for him to explain.
“You’ve read the stories,” Graves said. “Surely you can piece it together.”
“So you haven’t changed at all,” Niamh said with an eye roll. “Can’t give a girl a single straight answer.”
“Niamh,” he snarled.
The way he pronounced her name, Neev, with a slight Irish lilt instead of his customary British accent, knocked something loose in Kierse’s mind.
“Like a wren?” Kierse guessed.
“But for the Oak King,” Graves said with distaste.