Page 37 of The Mermaid’s Bubble Lounge (Sam Quinn #8)

THIRTY-SEVEN

Well, Shit

Clive got to work, lapping up the blood and closing the cuts.

It was over. We got him. It was a huge relief, but I felt numb and stared into space. “We’ll have to ask my great-uncle to get all the blood off the floor and desk. This is Russell’s hobbit hole. We don’t want to leave him with a scent that drives him nuts.”

Clive put his hand on the side of my face and turned me so I was staring into his eyes. “Your pupils are so big, darling. You’re shaking. You’re in shock.”

“I’m okay,” I said, though my voice sounded strange.

“You’re not.”

I licked my lips, trying to say the words that were strangling me. “I knew it was you. I knew it. I knew.” I choked on a sob, holding myself in check. “But what if I’d been wrong?” I whispered, my hand flying up and covering my lips. “What if I’d killed you?”

“Darling,” he crooned, pulling me into his arms again and rocking me. “You knew exactly which one I was. I never doubted it for a moment.” His hand rubbed my back. “There could be a room crowded with a hundred Sams, and I’d pick you out every time.”

He leaned back, his hand warming the side of my face. “You’re so cold, love. Can I ask Bracken to come back? I’m worried about these gouges in your stomach. They’re deep.”

I nodded and then there was a knock on the door.

“Come,” Clive called.

The door opened and Bracken was there. He waved a hand and all the blood on the floor disappeared. Clive had me lie down and then Bracken crouched beside me, holding his hands over my stomach, his fingers twitching.

“I’m not a healer,” he murmured, his voice soft and calming, “but I’ve picked up a few things over the years.” He was quiet for a moment. “Ah. She has a shard of glass embedded in her abdomen,” he said to Clive. “It hasn’t nicked any vital organs that I can tell, but we have to get it out.”

“Lie still, love,” Clive said, placing my head in his lap.

I grabbed Clive’s hand. “I think it hurt Fergus.”

Clive squeezed my fingers. “He’ll be fine. He was sleeping in the tunnel. When the spell on me lifted, the one on him probably did too.”

Bracken looked uncomfortable and then met my gaze. “I don’t want to lift the bottom of your dress, but I need to get to your stomach.”

Clive leaned forward and ripped the tear in my dress wider, so my skirt could stay down and Bracken could work. He held his hand over my stomach again. I heard myself whimpering. It was cutting me again on the way out. Clive intervened, pulling away my pain while he brushed my hair from my face.

“Sorry, my dear,” Bracken said, “but we have to get it out of you before it does more damage.”

“I know. I’m okay now,” I rasped out. Closing my eyes, I turned my head in to Clive’s stomach, his scent soothing something that had splintered in me.

There was one more dull yank and slice before the glass was out. I didn’t know what Bracken was doing, but there was an internal tug and then heat filled my belly.

“What I can do is done,” Bracken said. “I’ll step out now.”

The door closed and Clive moved, lifting my dress and running his tongue along the line of cuts and gashes. He took another moment to check my head, my shoulders, looking for other cuts.

“Thank you. I just got rid of my scars. I don’t want to start a new collection.”

He gave me a kiss and helped me up. “I’ve told you before, darling. Scars are sexy.”

I looked down at myself. “How problematic is this dress?”

He shook his head and said, “Very,” before unbuttoning his dress shirt.

“This feels familiar,” he murmured, referring to that time almost a year ago when I’d killed my rapist and was standing in a bloody t-shirt that was too short to cover important bits.

He’d given me the shirt off his back then too.

He was right. It wasn’t just the gaping hole in the center. It was also soaked with blood, which wasn’t handy when we were about to go out where vampires were waiting for us. I peeled off the dress; Clive licked a few red smudges off my skin and then helped me into his shirt.

Grinning, he tucked my hair behind my ear. “The jewelry, the shirt.” He pulled me into his arms. “It’s putting ideas in my head.”

“Pff’t. Like those ideas weren’t already there.” He was right, though. This was a serious after-sex-putting-on-my-lover’s-shirt look. “Am I decent?”

He took my hand. “Absolutely. Let’s go.”

When we stepped out, the vampires were ranged around the Shire, intensely interested in the folly. Bracken was outside the door, waiting.

“Oh, good,” he said. “I was going to suggest getting rid of the bloody dress, given the circumstances.”

I gestured into the hobbit hole. “It’s on the floor. Can you burn it up or something to get rid of it?”

He nodded. “Good idea.” He twitched his fingers, there was a pop of flames, and then a smudge of ashes on the wooden floor. With a wave of his hand, the ashes disappeared and, other than a small dark spot on the wood, the dress and blood were gone.

Clive held out his hand to shake. Bracken took it.

“Thank you very much,” Clive said. “I’d hate to think of how much more damage could have been done while we waited for a healer.”

Bracken tipped his head. “Not at all. I’m glad I was here. I think, perhaps, I was meant to be here.”

The vampires all went on alert and turned as one toward the back entrance to my apartment.

A moment later, a tall elven warrior jogged toward us.

Her long silver-white hair was braided down her back.

A heavy sword hung at the hip of her long tunic and breeches.

Her leather boots were silent as she made her way down the path.

I lifted my hand. “Galadriel.” I wanted the vampires to understand that she was known to us.

Why in the world she was here, though, was anyone’s guess.

Last I’d heard, she hated my guts. She blamed me for my great-aunt Martha’s death.

She’d said she’d kept her wife alive and happy for fifty years.

I showed up and a week later Martha had been tortured to death by Abigail. In her defense, that was all true.

Clive and I went down the steep path, Bracken on our heels.

“Where is it?” Galadriel demanded, her sword in her hand.

“We already got it,” I said.

She shook her head. “He shifts and regenerates. Where did you last see him?”

“We know. My great-uncle here, Martha’s younger brother Bracken, used a spell to slow the pooka’s shift so I could strike him down with my axe.”

Galadriel’s shoulders relaxed and she sheathed her sword. “I will let my lady know that he has been dispatched. She will grieve his loss, but she understands that he needed to be stopped. It was why I was sent.”

“We rather hoped someone would have come sooner,” Clive said. His tone was mild, but the reproof was clear. “Before more innocents had died.”

Galadriel gave Clive a look that would have had me backing up. He didn’t flinch.

To distract the rising tension, I said to Bracken, “This is your sister’s widow. Galadriel, Bracken. Bracken, Galadriel.”

The warrior finally tore her glare from Clive and took in Bracken with a nod. “Martha didn’t like to talk about her childhood, but she said if anyone had had it harder in that cursed family than her, it was you.” She held out her hand and they gripped forearms.

“I was very sorry to hear of my sister’s passing,” he said. “She was my favorite. I was so very glad to learn, though, that she had been happy, that she’d found love and acceptance. Thank you. She deserved all the happiness.”

“Yes,” Galadriel agreed, her body held taut. She turned back to me. “My mistress, and therefore Algar and the guard, have been quite busy. She wasn’t able to spare anyone until now. I will tell her you have removed the threat from this realm. She will be pleased to hear it.”

“Is she okay?” I asked.

Galadriel took a moment and then said, “My lady is, unfortunately, always under threat by those who would presume to usurp her.” She stared at Bracken a moment.

“She will be interested to know that you’re here, that you’ve already made this connection.

My lady sees far and sees true.” She nodded, considering.

“I must get back. I am needed.” She turned and sprinted back toward my apartment.

I looked at Clive. “What the heck did that mean, and how did she get in?”

He shook his head. “I’ll do you one better. How did the pooka get in?”

Bracken held up a finger. “I believe I know the answer to that one. When we turned the corner outside your house, it felt as though I’d driven over the curb. I’m a very good driver and according to the mirrors, I was not next to the curb. I think that was when the pooka became a stowaway.”

I rubbed my forehead. “And then I altered the ward to let you and your car in through the garage. I invited it in.”

Clive kissed my temple. “What matters is that the two of you destroyed it before more were killed.”

“And vampires blamed for it,” Vlad added.

“Fergus!” I shouted, worried I didn’t see him yet.

Clive smiled. “He’s coming. I hear his paws thumping on the ground.”

The vampires were eyeing me warily.

“So,” Thi said, “not just a werewolf, but relative of wicches and friend of the fae?”

“That my lady and mistress talk,” Adaeze began. “Was she referring to the queen of the fae?”

I glanced at Clive and Bracken before nodding.

“The queen of the fae sent one of her warriors to protect you and hunt the pooka?” she clarified.

I nodded again.

Her eyebrows went up on a sly smile. She was standing closest to the pond, so the rest of the vamps behind her couldn’t see the smile.

That should make them stop and wonder before any of them tries to move against you. The voice in my head, though, wasn’t Clive. It was Adaeze. Interesting.

“If this is done, can we get back to Guild business now?” Pablo asked, sounding bored and annoyed.

Bracken raised his hand. “Before you begin, might I inquire if the one investigating Rafaela’s abduction has learned anything more?

I’d very much like to contact her grieving family.

I would, of course, tell them that as soon as the vampires knew she had been rescued, they did what they could to find and verify her family. ”

The vampires were silent, no one making a move to indicate which was Joao. Cadmael himself waited, rather than covering for Joao.

Finally, Joao said, “My people haven’t finished investigating, but early indications are that it probably is her.

They have found no other reports of a black jaguar—male or female—being abducted.

They’re a rarity in the shifter world, so…

” He trailed off, looking as if he’d rather be anywhere other than right here, having to answer this question.

“Marvelous,” Bracken said. “I’ll call Cipriano and let him know we may have located his daughter.”

Ahmed gestured around the folly. Turning to Clive, he asked, “How do you have this?”

“That’s a bit of a long story,” Clive told him. “The short version is that we helped rescue a dragon who had been abducted by Aldith Atwood. You no doubt heard about her menagerie of supernaturals that she imprisoned to feed on.”

There were multiple heads nodding. Not Pablo’s, though. That must have been something else no one had told him.

“One of her captives,” Clive continued, “was the brother of one of Sam’s good friends.

We helped her friend and the matriarch of the Drake clan rescue their loved one, as well as the rest who were suffering under Aldith’s hand.

The Drakes knew that Sam loved the folly we’d visited in Wales and so negotiated with the dragon builders to create one for us. ”

Adaeze grinned again, while Ahmed shook his head and said, “Your wife is little sister to the dragons as well? You seem to have married up, my friend.”

“I have, indeed,” Clive said, pulling my hand to his lips.

It felt like a bit of theater with these three trying to drive home the point that I had very powerful people in my corner, and the others should think twice before starting any shit.

“Well,” Ahmed said. “I vote we conduct our Guild meetings here.” He looked up at the faux sky. “I know it isn’t real, but that doesn’t change the fact that it feels as though we’re walking in the sun for the first time in hundreds of years.”

“That’s interesting,” Clive mused. “I don’t recall offering my home.”

Ahmed waved away his response. “Nonsense. You already have two of us staying here. What’s a few more?” He looked back toward Canterbury. “I might build myself a treehouse on that island.”

“The island is mine,” Cadmael said.

“I beg to differ,” Clive interrupted.

“There’s plenty of room. I can stay on the far side of the island.” Ahmed looked quite pleased with his plan.

“Whereas I’d like to stay in this little village,” Adaeze volunteered.

At what was probably my look of panic, realizing far too many vampires wanted to move in, she said, “It would only be for perhaps one week a year. We have our own communities to look after. We usually only meet in person once a year.”

Clive glanced at me and then back at the others. “Sam and I will discuss it later. In the meantime, perhaps we should return to the nocturne.”

“There’s a tavern in Canterbury,” Cadmael volunteered, “that might serve for our meeting place tonight.”

Clive gave him a long look but eventually nodded. “For tonight, as we are all here.” He raised his eyebrows at me and I squeezed his hand.

“My dear,” Bracken said. “May I see your bookstore while they continue their meeting?”

“Of course.” I gave Clive a kiss on the cheek as he pulled his phone from his pocket. Before I could leave, he pulled me back and showed me his phone screen.

The text had been sent to both Clive and me.

Meg: It’s your turn to help me. Cape Taenarum.

“Cape Taenarum?” I looked at Clive. “Where the heck is that?”

“Greece,” Bracken replied. “It’s reputed to be the entrance to the Underworld, Hades’ realm.”

Clive scratched his cheek. “She is a Fury, so that tracks.”

“You know the Furies?” Bracken asked, his eyes alight.

“Just one of them,” I replied. “Meg.” I blew out a breath. Well, shit.