“Are you startin’?” Flynn set down his glass and stood up, rolling his sleeves up. “I’m happy to knock your bollix in, give your wife something else to cry over other than your ugly mug.”
“You wanna say that again, you fucking witch!” The guy shouted, reaching across the bar toward Flynn.
“Get him, Gus!” someone yelled from a nearby table.
Gus grabbed Flynn by the collar and slammed him against the counter. Flynn seemed to expect this, because he threw his arms against his chest and swiped them down, breaking Gus’ hold. Gus moved to grab Flynn again, but Flynn was faster. He swung his fist and slammed it into Gus’ cheek, flinging him back into one of the tables. Hot chips and sloppy curry flew everywhere.
“Fuck.” Gus staggered to his feet, clutching his ear. Blood trickled down his shirt. Flynn swung again, but Gus ducked his hook and barrelled into Flynn, pinning him back against the bar.
“Oi, drop him!” Nell leaned over the bar and poured a pint over Gus’ head. Gus yelled and spat, but he did get off Flynn. I grabbed Flynn under the arms as he surged forward, and his fist glanced off my shoulder as he thrashed and yelled. Nell frowned at me and pointed to the door. “I saidno trouble. Get him outta here.”
I dragged Flynn toward the door. Twenty pairs of eyes followed us. I was trying to shove Flynn through when Gus’ young friend said loudly, “It’s that new girl up at the castle behind all this. Calling herself the daughter of that weird lass who disappeared twenty years back. Looks like her, too, except with the short hair.”
“You heard what young Bill Rilay’s son said he saw up there earlier,” someone else called out. “That weird lady is back.”
Shit.Flynn and I both stiffened.It wasn’t a fox, after all.
“Then he’s a damn fool. Aline Moore’s dead and buried,” a woman said.
“He said it’s her, all right. Looks just like the pictures in the old papers. They brought her back. Those witches rose her from her grave.”
“It’s that American witch who moved in,” the first man snarled. “She’s behind this. We should go up to that castle right now and put the fear of God into her.”
Flynn jerked his head around. He tore himself from my grasp and stalked toward the bar. His hands raised in fists. “You don’t go talking shite about Maeve Moore.”
“Flynn, let’s go.” I hissed.We shouldn’t have come here. The witch statue was one thing, but if they think we’ve raised the dead, they’re going to get violent. It’s like walking right into the middle of Daigh’s court and loudly announcing all Unseelie were weak.
“You heard him threaten Maeve?” he snapped, breaking my grasp and rushing back into the pub. “That’s not right.”
“What are you going to do about it, witch?” The young guy shoved Flynn. Chairs scraped back as several men stood up, hands balled into fists, faces twisted with rage.
Before I could grab him, Flynn had shoved the guy back, grabbing his collar to hold him still while he smashed his fist into his nose. The guy screamed as blood pissed from his nose and splattered across the flagstones.
Flynn hit the guy again, his eyes blazing with a fury I’d never seen before. Another bloke grabbed Flynn and tried to tear him off. Flynn flipped around and swung his fist, catching the second bloke in the jaw. With a roar, Gus launched himself into the fray, landing a hit in Flynn’s gut as Flynn’s foot connected with his knee. Gus went down in a barrage of abuse, and Flynn stomped on his neck.
“Bloody hell, Flynn!” I dived in, dodging a flying fist and grabbing Flynn’s shoulders. I tried to tear him away, but Flynn was having none of it. He scrapped with three guys, sending two of them over a table and slamming another into one of the wooden pillars, which splintered with a mightycrack.
“Break it up!” Nell screamed.
“I’ll hex the lot of you wankers,” Flynn yelled. A jet of water shot between his fisted fingers, slamming into one of the men and knocking him to the ground.
Two blokes plowed into Flynn, who sprayed water all over the pub as they pinned his arms. Gus rolled on top of him and slammed his fist into the side of Flynn’s head. Flynn went down like a sack of potatoes, and six angry faces turned toward me.
“Hi,” I waved. “I’m Blake. I’m not from around here. Trust an Irishman not to know when to shut his gob, am I right?”
I managed to block the first fist that flew at my face, but the second slammed into my stomach, driving the wind out of me. A blow landed across my shoulder, and I went down on top of Flynn, the room spinning as a circle of feet closed in on us.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
TWENTY: ROWAN
After the talk with Daigh, Flynn and Blake went to town and the others all went back to the house. I stayed out in the garden, pulling on my gloves and picking up my shears. My head still felt a little woozy from my fall, but nothing cured me faster than being in nature. I cut back some of the herbs that were starting to look a little wild to encourage new growth, saving the nicer cuttings for drying.
Gardening was such an obvious pastime for earth witches, it was practically a cliche. If I’d known that when I’d started nursing seedlings on the edge of the old canal and growing potatoes on the roof of the squat, then I might’ve taken up crochet instead. But until Corbin, I had no one in my life to tell me what was normal for a witch. All I knew was that I could manipulate trees and plants and heal wounds and mix herbs together to make things happen, and that power terrified the foster families I was placed with. Terrified people tended to lash out with their fists. Or their cocks.
Gardening was a good skill. It meant I’d had something to barter at the squat. When I first came to Briarwood, the guys were living off takeout and microwaved fish fingers. Taking overthe kitchen was one way I could start to pay back the kindness Corbin had done me. And I liked it – I liked the precision of gardening and cooking, the control, the easy access to things that could be counted and arranged. You raised the seeds, tended the soil. You added the ingredients in the right amounts, in the correct order, and something delicious emerged.
Rain pattered against my shoulders as I gathered a selection of herbs into my trug. I was low on some of the key ingredients for the poultices that healed magical attacks. I wasn’t sure what we could expect in the coming days, but my remedies had saved us before. The more I had on hand, the better the chances I could help anyone who got hurt when the fae attacked.
