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Chapter Twenty-One

Iglared at my rescuer and wondered what I would owe him for his intervention.

I also wondered what he’d make me do before he freed me.

“I’m grateful ya stopped Ezra, but the snake fight is my battle. There will be no mercy for Hisser this time. He ate several of the witches that the fairy had forced to serve him. One of them might have been my friend. I can’t live my life wondering who else he’s going kill, use, or eat. So turn me loose and let me end this.”

The stranger’s second sigh was even louder. “I can certainly see where your child gets her stubbornness from. But I still can’t let you kill him. Now that I’minvolved—thanks to your daughter’s insistence—I’m tasked to find an amenable solution for everyone.” He turned his head and pretended to retch. When he turned back to face me, he grinned even wider than before. “Doing good is my eternal punishment.”

Fiona snarled as she stalked toward him. “Look here, you six-fingered, silver-winged hooligan.”

Rolling his eyes, the man waved a hand and Fiona froze in place. She was as frozen as Ezra. I had met only one species with that sort of power over people. Normally, I’d have wanted his head for freezing my daughter, but I could understand him taking that action after she’d resorted to name calling. Getting your children to be polite even when angry was a talent all parents longed for, even the hypocritical ones like me.

I promptly decided I wasn’t in the mood to chastise the being who’d saved my desperate Irish ass. So I smiled at him instead. “Six-fingered?” I asked.

Snickering at my question, which made no mention of the rest of Fiona’s insult, he held up both hands. The stranger—whatever he was—indeed had six fingers on each hand.

My smile grew wider. “Fascinating. Were ya born that way?”

“Something like that,” he said.

I could tell he was trying hard to come up with some story he’d thought I’d believe. I jumped right to the heart of things. “Are ya a guardian?”

“Well...” he drawled, looking up at the ceiling. “I’m not supposed to tell people what I am, but since your daughter can’t keep her mouth shut, you might as well hear it from me. No, I am not a guardian. The ancient ones replaced my kind. They got called in after those like me were judged to have screwed up the job of watching over humanity. But have theyreallydone a better job? I think that’s debatable.”

I laughed and rubbed my face. Should I feel guilty for laughing at someone who froze my child? When I tried to turn toward Fiona, I discovered my feet were free.

I fisted my hands on my hips and stared at him. “So what do think needs to be done? Prison is out. Hisser thinks he’s a god and twenty years behind bars never changed his mind. I refuse to send him back there.”

“Whereas a single day in prison changed you forever. I can see why you’d be disappointed in him. Prison did you some good. You don’t tolerate bullshit the way you used to, do you?”

I narrowed my eyes and glared. “Are ya sure ya’re not a guardian?”

The stranger snorted. “You say that like you interact with them daily.”

“Can we get back to yer problem with my fight? My slimed friends on the other side of the room still need saving. Their skin is rotting away while we chat about yer reluctance for me to kill the creature who did that to them.”

My rant caused him to roll his eyes at me. “They’re not rotting. The demon would never let that happen to his magickal Asian. He’s too much in lurve...”

I should have been offended by his thick sarcasm about their relationship, but, Goddess bless, the man was a kindred soul. If he wasn’t a guardian, what was he? My mind scrambled to come up with a label. He was wicked. That much was for certain.

What was it Orlin said about the overseers of King Solomon’s twin rings?

Oh, right... one ring had a demon overseer and the other had an angelic one. This guy wasn’t a demon. I’d have sensed that in him. That narrowed my choice to him being the other type of being no matter how hard it was to believe.

Laughter nearly burst out of me as I tried to speak. “If ya’re an angel, ya’re certainly a wicked one. No radiant robes. No halo. Good Goddess, yer kind is nothing at all like people imagine them to be.”

“And you are so verypagan,” he said with a haughty sniff.

I laughed at that too. The angel—if that was his kind—seemed to see right through all artifice and into a person’s soul. This being was not the kind of angel Bridget O’Malley longed to meet. I bet Da hadn’t liked him, either.

But I liked him. I liked him a lot.

“So what’s yer name, angel?”

“Stop calling me that. I never told you what I was... and my name is Tony.”

I laughed again. “No, it’s not. Tell me yerrealname.”