“Burn in hell,” an elderly lady hissed as she took a wide berth around us, dragging a tiny dog on a chain that barked and snapped at Blake’s ankles.
“Well, this is mediaeval,” Flynn remarked, leaning against the wall and snapping a stick of gum. “Arthur will be happy when they turn the high street into a jousting field.”
“Better a jousting field than a gallows,” Corbin muttered.
“Twenty-two people died in horrifying and mysterious circumstances,” I reminded Flynn. “We were there, and we survived, and then we left town. I guess people have put those two things together.”
A group of men gathered around the entrance to the station. They kept glancing over at us. Tension sizzled in the air. “You’re not welcome here,” one called over at us.
“You talk some shite. It’s a public place.” Flynn yelled back. Blake snorted.
“Flynn, don’t.”
One of them raised a fist. “Are you starting, mate?”
“Hope you like hospital food,” Flynn yelled back. “Because you’ll be eating that slop for weeks after we knack yer bollocks in.”
“Flynn, shut up!”
Three of the guys approached the street, fists raised. One pulled his hand out of the pocket of his leather jacket, revealing a switchblade. My heart thudded against my chest. Arthur pulled up not a moment too soon, leaning on the horn.
I’ve never been so glad to see that stupid car.
I yanked the door open and flung myself in. The guys piled in the back. “Hurry, go,” I urged Arthur. He yelped as he saw the guys advancing toward us, and hit the accelerator. The car jerked to life, pulling away just as one of the guys swung his leg at the side, denting the passenger door.
“Fuck!” Arthur swore. “He kicked my car.”
“I’ll marmalade them!” Flynn yelled out the window. He ducked as an empty can sailed past his head.
Rowan was white as a sheet. My whole body trembled violently. I didn’t let out my breath until we left the village behind us.
Jane crouched in the front seat, cradling Connor in her arms. She looked up, her face streaked with tears, but when her gaze fell on me her expression shifted to one of loathing.
“What the hell is going on?” I managed to choke out.
“He kickedmy car.”
“That’s because Flynn provoked him,” Corbin pointed out.
“They can’t be starting like that around Connor.” Flynn balled his hand into a fist. “I’ll pan them out.”
“Don’t you pick a fight with them and make things worse. Our battle is with the fae, not the village idiots.”
“Clara said it’s been pretty tense in the village the last few days,” Arthur said. “The Crooks Worthy vicar has been preaching fire and brimstone ever since the incident at the church, and the police are asking all sorts of questions about weird stuff going on at Crookshollow. Someone threw a brick through her shop window, and she said there have been people up at Briarwood at night, skulking around in the bushes.”
We drove the rest of the way in silence, a chill settling over the car.
As soon as I stepped inside the familiar inner courtyard, with its towering walls of dressed stone and the outdoor beanbags scattered around, a sense of calm swept over me. Arthur had left his hookah pipe in a corner, and one of Flynn’s weird spider sculptures crawled over the stone wall.
Home.
I missed the castle more than I’d realized. As soon as we were behind the walls, the tightness in my chest loosened. These walls had protected nobles and soldiers from powerful invaders. With a little help from our witchy magic, they could protect us, too.
“This place isinsane,” Kelly breathed, her neck craning right back to take in the full height of the sweeping staircase and double-height entrance hall. “You didn’t tell me it was sobig.”
I beamed, happy she was talking to me again. “Yeah. I can’t believe it’s mine.”
“What’s that hole up there?”
