Page 71
Story: 40 Ways to Catch a Bad Guy
Tony looked it over and then moved to the other side of Ezra. He pulled out some white energy and directed it into the relic as well.
The questionable angel smiled when he was satisfied. “Here you go, little guy. All fixed.”
Dylan glared at him for speaking to him like a child. “Thank you,” he said.
Tony shrugged. “I gave it an extra little zing for calling you a leprechaun. When I called you that, I didn’t know your kind considered it an insult. You should be flattered, actually. Most people like leprechauns but consider your kind to be thieves and pranksters. I can see you’re a nice guy, though—mostly. You need to stop cooking those books for your parents and find better work.”
Dylan snorted before looking guilty. “Did you really fix the relic?”
Nodding, Tony grinned at Dylan. “Yes, but the catch is that you have to do what Aran said to do to the giant snake thing—I mean, creature. Naga. Or whatever she said it was.”
Dylan shook his head. “The relic doesn’t work for my family. We only guard it. We’re not the least bit Abrahamic.”
Tony rolled his eyes. Then he put both his hands on Dylan’s shoulders. “We are all one, little brother. Watching it and not using it was yesterday’s work. The museum even made a clay replica for the Viking display. See? There’s absolutely nothing for you to feel bad about. The relic is yours now. Go forth and use its power well. ”
Dylan stared down at it. “I believe the relic is powerful, but it doesn’t talk to me. Aran said angel relics talk to their keepers.”
Tony turned to glare at me. “Of course, she did. Because if Aran hadn’t said that, you’d not believe that was a requirement. I swear, every species on this planet is so hard to help.”
Dylan glared at him. “You’re not very nice. I thought angels were nice.”
“Oh, ye of little faith...” Tony sang.
Then he put a hand on the relic and the other smack on top of Dylan’s head. The angel—who did not act like any angel I’d ever read about—hummed as some energy cord formed between Dylan and the relic.
When the cord faded from visible sight, Tony said, “Ta freaking da,” and stepped back with both his hands in the air.
I looked at Dylan. “Are ya okay?”
Dylan nodded. “I think so. Give me a minute.”
The far darrig walked away to stand at the exit. He held the relic in his hands. I watched his head bobbing up and down.
“It’s talking to him,” I whispered.
“Shush,” Tony ordered. “I can’t eavesdrop and listen to you at the same time.”
It was my turn to glare. “Dylan’s right. You’re not very nice.”
Tony, who I now saw was well over six feet tall, looked down at me. “Being nice is not a requirement for my work. All I have to do is be good at my job.”
I turned back to see Dylan walk directly to Hisser. He reached out with the relic, laid the stone on a giant coil, and closed his eyes. As Tony and I watched, Hisser shrank and transformed. Dylan followed the snake down until it was thrashing wildly on the floor.
When the change was done, an eight-foot black snake with a cobra hood remained. Dylan caught the snake behind its head and lifted it.
After tucking the relic into his pocket, the far darrig transformed into his human form, which was tall enough to hold the snake off the ground.
Dylan turned to me, smiled, and held up a thumb. “You have an empty animal crate in the back of your car. Can I put the snake in it?”
I hoped it wasn’t the animal crate Mulan had used for the kitten. A tiger cat on the verge of adult cathood wasn’t the kind of animal ya locked up in yer bathroom when ya left the house.
“That’s a great idea,” I said, smiling at Dylan.
Sighing, Tony turned and waved a hand at Fiona. She snapped instantly back into yelling at him until she caught me staring at her.
“Did he freeze me? Tell me the truth, Mom. Did that SOB freeze me again?!” she demanded. She turned to Tony and glared at him, not waiting for my reply. “Freezing me cannot in any way be a legitimate part of my training. You are a despicable person. I insist you stop freezing me right now.”
And then Fiona stomped her foot like a two-year-old throwing a tantrum. I covered my mouth with my hand, hoping my daughter was too focused on her staring contest with Tony to notice my amusement.
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