Page 65 of Beer & Broomsticks

“Too much of a coward to kill me in public, boyo?” he taunted.

Ronan’s bolt of electricity struck him without warning, and Loman screamed from the searing pain.

“Get moving,” Ronan barked.

CHAPTER27

“No.” Ruairí emerged from the destroyed wall opening and glared at Loman. “If you bring him on the property, it will negate the wards. It’s what he wants.”

Ronan gave Loman a thoughtful look. “Aye, that may be, but he’s helpless against this many people.”

Hating to admit it, Ruairí shook his head and said, “We’re too vulnerable, Cousin.”

“I propose a death match.” Castor stepped forward, his eyes so cold and calculating, Ruairí had a moment’s unease.

“Between which contestants?” Damian asked. His look was contemplative, as if the idea held merit.

“Loman and myself of course. What could be more entertaining than twin against twin?” The evil grin on his uncle’s face worried Ruairí. The man he’d come to know over the last few days wasn’t mean-spirited or cruel, and yet his expression rivaled any Loman had ever had. Was it all an act? If so, to what end?

“Sure, and if I win, I get your abilities,” Loman stated with glee.

Castor shot a sharp look toward the Aether, who shook his head. Their gazes remained locked for a long moment before Damian closed his eyes and nodded. An exchange of thoughts had happened, one Ruairí wasn’t privy to, and the churning in his gut was telling him this was all about to go terribly wrong.

“Sure, and this is a bad idea. The worst I’ve ever heard if I’m tellin’ it true.”

“You always were a pansy, boyo.” Loman curled his lip into a disgusted sneer. “I tried to get Shane to be rid of you when you became a turncoat and started hangin’ out with the O’Malley girl, but he thought he could reform you. A fat lot of good it did.”

“I’d rather be an O’Malley than an O’Connor any day of the feckin’ week,” Ruairí retorted, well aware of the punishments for not toeing the O’Connor line. He’d suffered every one of them. “They know what true family and loyalty means, they do, and all you know is how to inflict pain and suffering on those you consider weaker than you. You’re not my uncle. You’re not my anything.”

“Yours will be the first death I celebrate after Antoine’s,” Loman cackled. “Or maybe I should kill yourhorin front of you. Show you what the penalty is for betrayal. Would you like that, boyo?”

Castor stepped between them. “You betrayed your family a long time ago, Loman. You bought into our father’s madness and embraced it for your own. It stops with you. The next generations will not be made to feel worthless or conditioned to hurt others.”

“You won’t know, now will ya? Because you’ll be dead.”

Alastair yawned and stretched as if waking from a nap. “Oh, are you still talking incessantly, O’Connor? I thought it was a yappy little dog from the high-pitched, repetitive sound.” When Loman opened his mouth to deliver some scathing comment, Alastair held up a hand, boredom on every line of his countenance. “Yes, yes, yes, we’ve heard it all before. This one will die, that one will die, everyone will die, and you’ll be all powerful. Blah, blah, blah. You really need a new line. You’re beginning to sound like a broken record.”

“Oh, look, Al! I think you’ve caused him an apoplexy. How fun!” Castor clapped his hands together like a kid in a candy store. “If he strokes out, it would save time but not be nearly as fun as me kicking his ass.”

Loman turned positively rabid and lunged for his brother, but Castor had anticipated his move, freezing him in place. He delivered a sidekick to Loman’s stomach, then reset time. The effect was immediate, and his brother doubled over, coughing from the pain of the blow.

“You’re a cheat,” Loman spat.

Castor laughed as if it were the funniest thing he’d ever heard, and perhaps it was, considering Loman used every underhanded trick in the book to get what he wanted.

A prickle started along Ruairí’s arms, alerting him to potential danger. “Someone else is here. Watching.” He scanned the area, looking up and down the street and in the upstairs windows of the homes closest to the inn.

“I don’t see anyone,” Ronan said.

“They’re there, all the same.”

“I feel it, too.” Alastair closed his eyes, a frown playing between his brows. When he lifted his lids, he zeroed in on a location to the left of Ruairí. “About twenty yards beyond the shrubbery.”

“I’ll go,” Damian said.

“No, it should be me. You need to find these two a battle ground and secure against Loman’s escape.”

“Al—”

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