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His kiss goodbye was long and lingering, filled with promise and warmth. “Ring me soon?”

I smiled. “Yes, though I have stuff to do with Lugh and another date with the competition.”

“Ah, but the competition obviously isn’t a pixie, given the previously mentioned dearth of them, so I have no doubt my wiles will eventually become more alluring than his.”

“His wiles are pretty damn impressive,” I said with a grin.

“Then I will need to up my game. Call me tonight?”

When I nodded, he stepped back, blew me a kiss, and walked away, his hands in his coat pockets as he whistled a cheerful tune.

I smiled and headed inside, only to discover Beira waiting for me.

“Well, it’s about fucking time you showed up.” Her voice was guttural and unpleasant, absolutely nothing like the dulcet tones I’d always imagined goddesses would have.

She was also dwarf short, but slender, with sharp brown features and an aura that echoed with the ferocity of a storm threatening to break at any moment.

And there wasdefinitelya bird’s nest in her wiry gray hair this time round. I had to stop myself taking a closer look to see if there were any inhabitants.

“Sorry,” I said evenly, “but the last few days have been rather hectic.”

She harrumphed. “If you have time to satisfy carnal urges, you have time to take the calls of an old woman.”

“You have something against carnal urges?”

“Only when they prevent you hearing me.”

“I’ve heard the wind raging, but I couldn’t hear your voice in her. Unless, of course, that raging was you, and if so, you need to calm the fuck down and speak a little slower. I’m new at all this, remember.”

She muttered something about inconsiderate youngsters and followed me over to the bar, perching on one of the lower stools designed specifically for dwarves and small pixies. They were the magical equivalent of gas lift chairs, and automatically adjusted the height of the stool to the size of whoever sat on them. They were high maintenance, thanks to the need to regularly replenish the spells, but they kept the customers happy, and that was the main thing.

I poured a triple whiskey and slid the glass across. She accepted it with a nod and quickly downed it. “Now that eases a few aches. More exist, however.”

I took the hint, refilled her glass, and left the bottle on the counter so she could help herself. “So, what was so important that you were screaming into the wind at me?”

“You pulled your punch up on the mountain and now you must deal with the consequences.”

I frowned. “I didn’t pull any—”

“You let him live.”

I stared at her. I knew the gods had a bloody bent, but still... “I’m not going to kill someone just because they get in the way.”

“Then you will pay the price, now and in the future. That wasn’t a mere weather witch you faced at the confluence but rather a storm mage. One with the ability to seek what storms hide.”

I frowned. “I didn’t think there were any true mages left.”

There were certainly plenty who used the name as a means to signify their superiority over “common” witches, but true mages were born within the elements they controlled and were in truth neither human nor a god, but somewhere in between.

“They are rare finds here in England,” she replied, refilling her glass one more time, “and I don’t believe this one is element born. But his skills are nevertheless as strong as any true mage, and you will not best him in a straight-out battle. Not at the moment.”

“Well, thanks for the confidence.”

“I’m not here to mollycoddle but to impart realities.”

I snorted. Beira and mollycoddling were not two words I would ever have used together. “It does at least explain the dream I had of a hand reaching into my storm to claim the sword.”

“If you’re dreaming that, he’s too close to the sword for comfort. You had best destroy it, as you were supposed to.”