Last time…
Owan and Roe discovered that Allan was being controlled by his wife, Missy.
I took it. The iron felt strange and heavy in my hand, but there was no burning sensation, no muscle weakness. I had the sense that too long of an exposure might result in some weakness, but as long as it wasn't rusty, it didn't spell a death sentence for me.
"Here's what we do," Roe said, half-turning to Allan. "If Owan can use this iron to scrape the ogham engraved into those links, then we should be able to snap the necklace."
Allan's shoulders hunched. "That's pure iron. I can feel it from here."
"You work in construction," I said irritably.
"I'm a carpenter," he snapped back. "As long as we don't use ash wood, I'm fine, but that doesn’t mean I like it."
"What happens to kelpies if they're touched with iron, Allan?" Roe asked.
"I don't know. When I'm around it, I can feel it—it's like an itch at the back of my skull that I can't get rid of. But I've never touched the stuff just to find out." He tapped the necklace around his neck. "Silver's conductive to magic. That's why this works well to bind me. What happens when you hold iron to that?"
"Sparks, probably," Roe said. "Some discomfort. I don't
know. I've never really done this before."
"I thought you said you knew how to handle relics!"
"I'm training for that," Roe said snappishly. She rubbed between her eyes.
Allan suddenly stiffened again, and the necklace's chain started gently glowing. He twisted his head, trying to get away from the glowing bridle on his chest. "Let's get this done with," he hissed. “Before I shift, bullet or not.”
I wasn’t sure that’s how it worked, but he was right—it was better to get this done. I grabbed the ruined pair of Roe's gloves from the desk, folding the gloves over themselves so they provided a double layer of protection from the hot metal. As I raised the chain from the back of Allan's neck and slipped the gloves under it, I saw a thin line of pink, raised scar tissue along the neckline of the shirt.
I slipped the iron rod under the chain, careful not to touch Allan's skin with it. As soon as the iron made contact with the silver, there was a sparking noise and the smell of hot metal. Allan yelped and twisted away from me. The movement yanked the chain in my hand, and for a split second I thought he would pull back.
Instead, the chain snapped, the middle of it coming apart
in my hands like a piece of wet paper. I stepped back out of
Allan's reach, my arm out in front of Roe. As if I could
protect her in this close space if this guy decided he wanted to shred us.
Allan's hand went to the back of his neck, as if he couldn't quite believe the necklace was gone. He bowed his head, and his shoulders shook once, twice. I wasn't sure if he was laughing or crying. Then he glanced over to me and smiled. "Thank you."
After a moment too long of waiting, I said, "Don't mention it."
Roe took the broken necklace from my hand and set it aside. She picked up my first aid kit. "Well...let's get that wound taken care of then."
After I'd dug the bullet out of Allan's leg and applied salve and a bandage, he stood, testing his weight on the leg. It held, though he looked a little shaky. He held his hand out to me.
"Thank you, Mr. Craig," he said quietly. "I appreciate the work you've done." He glanced at Roe, and the smile became a grin. "You too, Miss Gillam."
"I wouldn't thank us just yet," Roe said. "You need to get out of New York. Before Missy figures out where you are."
"Oh, trust me. I already know."
I spun around, taking two short, quick steps back to my
desk. Missy Dullahan stood in the doorway, a gun in her
hand. Somehow, she'd managed to open the door without any
of us hearing it. Her eyes blazed in fury as she glanced back and forth between us, then focused on Roe.
"I should've seen it," she spat. "You're like him, ain't you?" She jerked her head at Allan. "A monster."
Allan flinched. "Missy," he whispered.
Missy looked at him, her mouth pinched in worry. "Allan. Surely you can understand. I love you, but...I had to keep you in check."
"What?" Allan growled. His hands balled into fists.
"Once you told me what you were, I knew...I couldn't live without you, but I couldn't wait on pins and needles for the day you couldn't handle your inner nature anymore." Missy's eyes filled with tears. "I did this to protect you. To protect us."
I watched the gun in her hand. It never wavered.
"Missy," Roe said in her almost-Southern drawl that I loved so much. "I don't know who you think you're foolin', but it ain't us."
Missy's eyes snapped back to her, and her fingers tightened on the gun. "Like you'd know, you coldhearted fae."
Roe blinked in shock. I wondered if she’d ever had anyone use fae as an invective.
“That’s enough, Missy.” Allan took a step forward.
She jerked back. “I have iron bullets in here, Allan. So
don’t you make me use them.”
They stood glaring at each other for a moment, both tensed. I slowly moved my hand from my side to Roe’s arm. The iron bullets might not bother Allan—iron for fae, silver for shifters, after all—but a stray bullet could sure as hell hurt Roe. Or me, if they were at all rusted.
The girl clearly didn't know what she was talkin’ about. Not only did she get the metal wrong, but protecting her from Allan’s ‘inner nature’? That was beyond ridiculous. Sidhé had perfect control over themselves, unless someone else messed with their minds.
Which brought me to another point.
“Missy,” I said. “Where the hell did you find someone to make that relic for you?”
Her eyes twitched over to me, then just as quickly went back to Allan. “I made it.”
“That’s bull,” Roe said angrily. “You couldn’t have made that. It takes years to learn how to make ogham and focus glamour into objects, and you’re not even Sidhé. There’s no possible way you could have made that.”
“Like you know anything, fae,” Missy spat.
“That’s precisely why I would know, yes,” Roe snapped. She stepped forward, between me and Allan and Missy.
Missy's gun swung to point at Roe's midsection. I nearly
shouted, nearly yanked Roe back to my side, but instead I
forced myself still and clenched my hands. One twitch of Missy's finger, and Roe would have an iron bullet in her.
Roe stuck her chin out. "I know because I'm fae. Have you ever heard of glamour? The curators?"
Missy frowned.
"I didn't think so. But you see, Missy . . ." Roe's tone changed. Softer, calmer, lower. "I know about all of those things. And I can help you." She was inching closer to Missy as she spoke. "Just tell me about the relic, Missy. Where did you get it? Who gave it to you?"
"I . . ." Missy licked her lips. "I p-promised I wouldn't. I paid a lot of money for that. I . . ."
"Missy, c'mon, can't you just see that—" Allan took a step forward and crumpled, catching himself against the wall with a grunt of pain.
Missy started and looked at him. "Allan!" Her voice was panicked.
I lunged forward and snatched at her hand. The gun roared, and heat scorched along my wrist. I twisted Missy's arm, and the gun clunked to the ground. I found it with my foot and kicked it away. In just a few seconds I had Missy's arms pinned.
Missy looked over at Allan, her dark eyes wide and frightened. "Don't let them hurt me!"
"They're not going to." Allan sat down, his hand pressed
against the wound on his leg. Pain and tiredness etched lines into his face. "What do we do now?"
"Take her to the police station and press charges," I said.
"But how—"
"We can come up with something. If she tries to tell them the truth, she’ll sound like she’s crazy." I shrugged one shoulder. "And even if they let her go, it will buy you time."
"Time?" Missy demanded. "Time for what?"
Allan ignored her and looked up at me, nodding. "Let's do that then."
The four of us trekked down to the nearest police station, where we turned Missy into the authorities, telling them Allan had come to us about a missing piece of jewelry and his wife had followed us, then held everyone at gunpoint. Missy sullenly refused to say anything. It took time, but eventually the police thanked us, and we left the station.
The moon hung overhead, pale and blurred by thin wisps of clouds. I stuck my hands in my pockets and glanced over at Allan. "What do you think you'll do now?"
He shrugged. "Move far away from here. Find some more construction work." His eyes darkened, and he glanced away, towards the bay. "You—you guys said I killed people. What's going to happen with that?"
I rubbed the bridle necklace in my pocket between my
thumb and forefinger. Niall would be furious if we let Allan go, but I wasn't about to turn him in when it would certainly spell his death. "You just get outta town," I said. "We'll figure out something."
Allan nodded gratefully and all but ran down the street, soon disappearing from sight.
Roe looked over at me and raised one eyebrow. "You already have a plan, don't you?"
"I have a half-baked idea that may or may not work."
Roe stepped to my side and put one hand on my arm. "Better to get it over with?"
With my free hand, I reached up and touched the chain around my neck. It was definitely tighter than it had been, and I could feel it cutting into my skin. Soon—very, very soon—it would get too tight to breathe.
"Yeah," I said wearily. "Better to get it over with.”
Thank you for reading! If you’re enjoying The Case Files of Owan Craig and don’t want to wait to read it week by week, it is available in ebook or print form on Amazon!