Gods and Swindlers (City of Eldrich Book 3) (7 page)

She used the bathroom in the dark and then fumbled through the clothing pile on top of the hamper to find something to pull on. Her sleep hadn’t been interrupted by any nightmares, but from hard experience, she knew she wasn’t going back to sleep.

Time to try out Elena’s light box. On her way to the window seat, where she’d left her suitcase, she stubbed her toe. With a grimace but no sound, she hobbled the remaining couple of steps and felt around until she found what she was looking for.

With the lightbox under her arm, Meaghan cracked open the door and made her way as quietly as she could down to the kitchen.

She flicked on the lights. Russ had filled up the coffeemaker the night before and all Meaghan had to do was press the start button. He’d left her a note. “Staying with Annie. I thought you guys might like some privacy. There’s bread in the pantry if you want toast.”

Like everyone else, Russ assumed that she and John were having sex.
If only they knew. The gossip mill would explode.

With a heavy sigh, Meaghan set the light box on the table and fetched a mug from the cabinet. She stared at the coffeemaker, willing it to brew faster. Toast was not outside her limited culinary skill set, but not until she’d had some coffee.

With the full mug in hand, she sat at the table, and plugged in the small tablet-shaped box. She pulled out the stand on the back and flipped it on.

The bright white light made her blink. She’d tried it a few times at Elena’s house while reading the morning paper and it hadn’t seemed this bright.
That’s because everything else was so much brighter.
At Elena’s the sun had been shining and the windows open, the warm air perfumed by the blooming orange tree next to the deck.

Meaghan could feel the grayness sinking back into her brain. She shivered. She was always cold, deep in her bones, and her brave words about dealing with her fear mocked her now as she sat in her brother’s kitchen, clutching the warm coffee mug in her hands. Spring would never come and John wouldn’t wait much longer and people were still keeping secrets and—

You done yet? Or are we doing the full pity-party checklist?

“Go make toast, little Miss Pathetic,” she said to the empty kitchen. Relatively immune to self-pity, the rational part of her mind might annoy her from time to time, but it had kept her going through the difficult winter. That was the part she needed to nurture, she knew, but sometimes, the dark was so seductive.

Bread sliced and in the toaster, she went back to the light box. She sat for a whole ten seconds before realizing that she hadn’t seen any signs of anybody in the house but her and John. Where were the witches?

The elf. Where is the elf?

Meaghan, now wide awake, her heart pounding, crept to the cabinet near the stove where Russ kept his smaller pans and skillets. She found her favorite saucepan, the one everyone called the wizard beater, and pulled it out as quietly as she could.

Taking a deep breath, Meaghan eased open the cellar door and stared down into the darkness.
The light should be on.
She listened. She heard a gasp and then silence. Too much silence. As she stood on the top stair, her finger on the switch, pondering what to do, she heard a loud bang and a whoosh.

Meaghan yelped and hit the light switch.

The furnace, idiot. That was the furnace.

Realizing that the element of surprise was long gone, she yelled down the stairs, “Who’s down there? I got a saucepan and I’m not afraid to use it.”

Wow. Some threat. I’m sure the elf is terrified now.

“Holy shit, Meg, what the hell?”

“
Owen?
What are you doing here?”

“Guard duty.”

“Where’s Natalie?”

“Um . . . I’m down here, too,” Natalie said, sounding out of breath. “What’s wrong?”

You mean besides you being in the dark in my basement with a leprechaun?

“Just wondering where everybody was,” Meaghan said, her face growing pink, realizing she’d interrupted something. “You want me to turn the light off?”

“Yes,” Owen said.

“Everything okay with the elf?” Meaghan called as she flipped off the light switch.

“Gretchen got tired of listening to it whine,” Natalie said. “She zapped it with a sleep spell. She went home after Owen got here.”

No one said anything for what seemed like a very long moment.

“Um, okay,” Meaghan said. “I’m shutting the door now.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Owen called back as Natalie started giggling.

Meaghan shut the door and set the saucepan on the counter. She finished making the toast and warmed up her coffee, trying very hard not to listen. Or think.

“That was something I could have lived my entire life never knowing about,” she mumbled.

Why? Because he’s short?

Meaghan snorted and chomped on a slice of toast. She was arguing with herself again.
Hey, he’s taller than John used to be. A lot taller.
The giggles took her then and segued into big belly laughs. She grabbed the dishcloth from the stove handle to try to muffle the sound.

It didn’t work.

She was snorting back a laugh when John stepped into the kitchen, wearing only sweatpants, with Meaghan’s eyebrow tweezers in his fist like a tiny dagger.

“What are gonna do with those?” Meaghan asked through her laughter. “Pluck somebody to death?”

He stared at her, confusion on his face. “It was the only steel I could find in your bathroom. What are you doing?”

“I’m laughing hysterically all alone in the kitchen. There’s coffee. You want some?”

A puzzled smile on his face, John set the tweezers on the counter. “You sit. I’ll get it. What’s so funny?”

Meaghan started giggling again. “Don’t go in the basement for a while.”

John sat down with a mug of coffee. “Why? The witches?”

“Um . . . no, just one witch. And—”

“Is that safe? With the elf?”

“Gretchen zapped it with something and it’s asleep. And Natalie’s got company.”

John raised an eyebrow. “Company who is not a witch?” He smiled. “Is it Brian?”

Meaghan grimaced. Brian still hadn’t relented in his determination that he was done with Natalie. After several months of crying and moping, Natalie had apparently reached the same conclusion. “No, not Brian.”

John squinted, thinking. “She isn’t with a Fahrayan, is she?”

“No.” Meaghan got up and refilled her mug. “You want toast?”

“Okay. Are you going to make me guess?”

Meaghan sighed. “Owen. She’s with Owen.”

He scowled. “The
leprechaun?
”

John’s aversion to leprechauns was well known. One crew had tried shaking him down years before for protection money from his honey business, and a different crew had tried to start a loan sharking operation in the Fahrayan refugee camp right after they’d arrived in Eldrich.

“I thought you liked Owen,” Meaghan said. Owen was thoroughly Americanized, and from what little information Meaghan had been able to dig up, appeared to be a legitimate businessman. At least at the moment.

“I do, I suppose. He’s all right for one of them
.
But as a companion for Natalie?” He swallowed some coffee. “No. It’s all wrong.”

“Why?”

“He’s too—”

“Short? As I recall, when we met, you were only eight inches tall without that magic amulet of yours.”

John scowled. “Yes, but that was different. I was taller . . . looking.”

Meaghan snorted with laughter. “That’s the argument you’re going with?”

John tried not to smile. “I give up. He’s a leprechaun, but other than that, I guess he’s all right.”

Meaghan brought him a plate of toast. “Even the dirt Sid had on him wasn’t that bad.”

John gave her a blank look.

“You know,” Meaghan said. “That supposedly horrible thing he did that got him booted out by the other leprechauns and that Sid acted all scandalized about?”

“What did he do?”

“Stole some magic sword. He gave it back. Everybody got their shorts in a bunch over it, but no harm done, as far as I can tell. Even Sid had to admit it really wasn’t that big a deal and, if Owen hadn’t been a leprechaun, everyone would be over it by now. I think the bigger problem is he’s defying stereotypes. The other leprechauns hate him.”

John’s look brightened. “Why didn’t you say that first? If they hate him, he must be okay.”

Meaghan took his hand. “I missed you. I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” He brushed a strand of hair off her forehead. “I’m sorry if I am pushing.”

“I think I’m ready to tell you what’s going on. I should have a long time ago, but I thought I had to be strong. And I was scared. And you’re not pushing. Not at all.”

John’s smiled at her, but his eyes looked worried. “Okay. I have wondered if I have been too eager.”

Meaghan shook her head. “That’s not the problem. It’s not you. It’s me.”

John’s eyes widened and he squeezed her hand tighter.

The look on his face couldn’t have been any clearer.
He might as well have a comic strip thought bubble hanging over his head.
She laughed. “Will you relax? I’m not breaking up with you.”

He sighed. “Good. I have heard that said and it’s never good for the one hearing it.”

“Yeah, except I’m not using it as an excuse. You’ve been wonderful. Patient.” She felt the tears begin to prickle.
I must be getting better. I should have been full out weeping by now.
She took a deep breath. “Okay. Here goes.”

Before she could continue, someone—or something—in the basement began to shriek.

Chapter Nine

M
EAGHAN GRABBED THE
saucepan off the counter and pulled open the cellar door, John right behind her. The shrieking grew louder. She flipped on the light switch and they ran down the stairs.

Natalie, naked except for the sheet wrapped around her, was standing in the middle of the basement, glaring at the elf. “Stop leering at me, you sick bastard pervert!” She whirled toward Meaghan and John. “That asshole elf was pretending to be asleep.”

The elf wasn’t shrieking, Meaghan realized. It was laughing, at a pitch and volume that made her ears feel like they were bleeding. She looked around. Owen hopped out of the shadows, zipping up his trousers.

“Can you shut this thing up?” Meaghan shouted to him.

“Sure.” Owen grabbed the saucepan from Meaghan and backhanded the elf across the side of its face. With one final shriek, the elf crumpled to the ground. Owen gestured toward Natalie with the saucepan. “I told you hexing wouldn’t work. When they start caterwauling like that, it’s cold iron time.”

John stepped toward the elf and stared down at it. “I thought they were supposed to be beautiful. This one is not.”

“It’s all the dampening spells,” Owen said. “It can’t mess with your head.”

“No,” Natalie said. “It just likes to watch.” She kicked the unconscious elf several times. “Pervert.”

“Calm down, Red,” Owen said. “I think we got him.”

Natalie, her anger waning, took in Meaghan and John gawking at her, then looked down at the sheet she wore. “Oh. Shit. Um . . .” She looked back at them, her face flushing. “We were . . . um . . .”

Owen handed the saucepan back to Meaghan. “They know what we were doing.” He grinned at Meaghan. “Don’t kick my ass. I really like your sister. I have for a while.” He nodded at John. “Sorry for the drama.”

John grinned at Meaghan. “I like this one. He’s not like the other leprechauns.”

“So,” Meaghan said, feeling her own embarrassment. “I guess we’ll be heading upstairs now. Leave you . . . to it. Um . . .”

“I think we’re done for now,” Owen said. “Mr. Elf will be out cold for a while, if you want to head upstairs.” He smacked Natalie lightly on the bottom. “Come on, firecracker, let’s go clean up a little and let your sister process all this. When does Lynette get here?”

“Six, I think.” Natalie adjusted the sheet more tightly around herself and bent to pick up an overnight bag. “What time is it?”

“Five forty-three,” Owen said, looking at his watch.

“Oh, shit.” Natalie scurried for the stairs. She caught Meaghan’s eye on the way past. “Don’t tell her anything, okay?”

“Not a word,” Meaghan said.

“The gossip will start and I’m . . .”

Meaghan looked at Owen. Natalie was obviously embarrassed, but Meaghan couldn’t tell how much of it was being caught like this and how much was being caught like this with Owen.

Owen winked at Meaghan. He didn’t seem to care.

Which made Meaghan feel a flash of sisterly protectiveness. She stared at him, eyes narrowed.

Natalie must have been paying better attention than Meaghan realized. “I really like him. This has been brewing for a while. Don’t get all impervious and ass-kicky, okay?”

John snorted back a laugh.

Meaghan raised an eyebrow. “Have I really been that touchy?”

“Yes,” Owen and Natalie said in unison.

Meaghan sighed. “We’ll keep an eye on him until Lynette gets here. Go get dressed.” She glared at Owen. “If you’re just getting laid—”

“I know. You’ll kick my ass, blah blah blah.” He and Natalie climbed the stairs, giggling.