An Ordinary Fairy (51 page)

WE HAVE TO DO SOMETHING. BUT THE KNIFE…

Yes. The knife.

Jones chuckled at her. “But let’s not talk about them. Let’s talk about us. You and me, Willow. We’re a lot alike, don’t you think?” Willow gave him an incredulous look. “Both of us feisty, both want the same property, both alone in the world.”

“Did you forget your mother?” Willow asked.

Jones frowned but ignored the remark.

Keep him angry, sweetie, so he does something stupid.

“I’ve always liked you, Willow, despite your attitude.” He leered at her. “Such a pretty little thing. Tiny and perfect. What man wouldn’t want to get inside you?” He lowered the knife and gave her a lascivious, probing look, ending by focusing his gaze on her torso. “Shaped just like a girl,” he said softly. Several seconds passed while he examined her chest.

Though she displayed no outward signs, Noah could feel Willow’s disgust and hatred reaching new heights.

I’M GOING TO HURL THE KNIFE OUT OF HIS HAND.

Her power enveloped Noah, swept him up in her hatred, as she prepared. The urge to leap out and start fighting was overwhelming.

GET READY.

When he thought he couldn’t contain it any longer, Willow spoke, focusing all her energy on a single phrase.

“Drop the knife!” she bellowed, her voice echoing through the large cave. The blast of her energy forced Noah back a step.

Jones had no reaction. He looked up from her chest and cocked his head to one side. “You got anything else you want to say?”

Willow was breathing hard, a perplexed look on her face.

WHAT…?

Why didn’t it work?

Jones’s eyes flicked up to meet Willow’s. “Bet Noah likes it, doesn’t he? Beddin’ down a little one like you, I mean?”

Move farther away from her.

Willow focused a scornful look at Jones. “Yes, he does,” she said. “Noah knows how to satisfy a woman like you never could. Real women scare you, don’t they, Chester? Are little girls all you’re able to handle?” Jones’s face grew red. “I bet you can’t even do that. What do you do, Chester? Do you unzip in front of your computer and—”

“Shut up!” Jones roared, spit flying. He quivered with rage and swiped the knife past Willow’s throat, a fraction of an inch from her skin. She didn’t flinch, but her heart raced in Noah’s chest.

“I ought to gut you like I did that deer.” Jones contemplated her for a moment before speaking again. Malevolence spread across his face. “Maybe I should
show
you what I can do with a woman.” He took hold of the bottom of Willow’s sweatshirt, and raised it a few inches to expose her belly. He leaned back to leer at her, lowered the knifepoint, and dragged it across her abdomen, leaving a visible white line where the point scraped. “Just look at those sexy muscles,” he said.

Willow looked at him with contempt. “Chester, is it true what they say? A man who carries a big knife has a small penis?”

Jones grabbed the front of Willow’s sweatshirt and jerked her forward until her face was inches from his. He growled through clenched teeth. “Shut up for once, bitch!” He pushed Willow back and began to slice her shirt open from the bottom. The blade slid through the cloth with ease.

NOT THAT!

Noah felt Willow’s fear, saw it in her eyes. Not for her life: discovery was her dread. Noah stood frozen, unsure what to do.

My fears are the opposite.

A final slice severed the neckband. Jones left the knife at Willow’s throat and opened the shirt to expose her bare chest. Noah’s hands clenched and unclenched as he watched, helpless, unable to stop Jones’s stare. The man devoured her, unmoving.

Don’t take it off!

Willow’s eyes flicked toward the curtain for an instant.

YES! TAKE IT OFF!

Did you catch my thought? If so, you didn’t catch it all.

Willow’s expression softened. She gazed at Jones and shifted her body to be ever so slightly provocative, as Noah saw her do often.

Willow, you can’t do this!

She spoke in one of her many voices, a soft, purring, sexy lilt. “Let me help.”

I’M GOING TO POP MY WINGS AND THEN WINK.

Please don’t.

Jones stepped back, apparently overawed by her transformation. His mouth hung open. With calculated sensual movements, Willow slid first one arm free, then the other and dropped the shirt on the bed behind her. Jones wet his lips and stared at the sinuous woman before him. Willow smiled and raised her arms, interlacing her fingers behind her head. She stretched, raising her shoulders and thrusting her chest forward.

Freeing your wingtips.

Noah shifted position, easing to the edge of the curtain, ready to move when Willow did.

READY?

Noah tried to project “Yes.”

Jones stood mesmerized, the knife now loose in his hand. Willow lowered her hands and rested them on the edge of the bed, which required her to lean forward, further releasing her wings.

NOW!

Crack!

The unexpected sound reverberated through the caves. Jones leaped backward, his face white with astonishment. Willow winked just as Noah stepped from behind the curtain. “Jones!” he shouted.

The older man spun around and faced Noah, bewildered, glancing back to where Willow had been. Noah wondered where she was, too. Jones still brandished a big knife, however confused he might be. Noah assessed the situation and found himself wanting. He stood too far from Jones to do any good. He had no weapon. He had no plan. Jones crouched into attack position, so Noah did, too.

Nothing else to do.

“Well, well,” Jones said in a mocking tone. “Noah’s smarter than we thought, Willow, except he doesn’t seem to have a weapon.” For all the bravado, Jones’s face reflected his shock. Noah scanned the room in vain for some sort of weapon, a club, a board, anything. Jones stepped toward him, but his left hand flew violently into the air, sending the knife flying on a high arc toward Noah. Jones swore and clutched the hand with his right. For an instant, both men watched in disbelief. Noah leaped backward; the knife clattered to the floor at his feet. Willow reappeared, standing next to Jones, her wings low behind her. Before he could react, she lashed out with her foot and struck him in the groin. He grunted in agony and staggered backward, but his face seethed with anger.

“I bet it’s small now!” Willow said.

Noah retrieved the knife and motioned to Willow, who scampered to safety behind him. He brandished the knife toward Jones, albeit awkwardly, at a complete loss what to do next. Noah wasn’t a fighter, so he stood his ground and waited to see what would happen.

“Go after him, Noah!” Willow urged.

Jones continued to back away, holding his hands to his groin and grunting, bent over.

I’ll hold him at knifepoint and Willow can tie him up.

Jones suddenly stood up straight with a second knife in his left hand. Though smaller, it looked every bit as lethal. He grinned evilly.

“Never travel with just one knife, Noah,” he said. He crouched and moved toward Noah in short darting hops, thrusting the knife in wide arcs between them. He might not be versed in hand-to-hand combat, but Noah knew enough not to be cornered. There was only one place to go: toward Jones. He mimicked Jones’s movements, darting and stabbing the air.

“Very good, Noah,” Jones said. “You learn fast.”

Noah discovered he had two advantages. His reaction time was better than the older man and after all, he carried the bigger knife. Noah could dash in close, slash and back away before Jones reacted, forcing him back.

“So what Granddad used to say is true,” Jones said. “There are fairies. We never thought of you being one, though, Willow. Too nasty.”

Don’t let him distract you.

The two men continued to jockey for position. Noah was careful not to get too close.

I can’t let him hurt me and leave Willow alone.

Oh yeah, Willow!

“Willow! Throw something at him.”

“Sure!” In a single leap, Willow jumped onto the bench. She pulled a crockery jar off one of the shelves and threw it at Jones. He ducked in time and the jar fell to the floor and shattered.

“More!” Noah said. Willow started a rapid-fire barrage of every jar, bottle and crock she could get her hands on, and connected several times, but never quite hit Jones in the head. The air reeked of herbs and chemicals.

Amidst all the angry emotions in the room, Noah could sense Willow’s frustration change to elation. He hazarded a glance toward the bench. She stood with her eyes closed and her left arm outstretched toward the big cave.

Jones made a risky move and stabbed at Noah’s knife hand. Noah dodged the blow, but Jones swept his blade backhanded across the top of Noah’s forearm. Fire exploded as the knife sliced through muscle.

“Noah!” Willow gasped. She grabbed her own arm.

“Gotta watch us southpaws,” Jones jeered.

Noah grabbed the wounded arm, which only made it hurt worse, and then dropped back a step. Jones took advantage of the opening and made a concerted lunge forward that forced Noah back further. Now clear to move, the big man leaped onto the workbench. Willow ran to the opposite end and jumped down to safety behind Noah.

Blood spattered the floor.

I can’t stop now.

Noah approached the bench, but halted a few feet away. Jones now held the high ground, so to speak. If Noah tried to attack, he would only reach Jones’s legs, while exposing his back to deadly blows.

Jones laughed. “Outmaneuvered, Noah?” he needled.

Noah felt Willow’s hand on his shoulder. She whispered to him. “Be patient. I called in reinforcements.”

Jones walked back and forth on the bench, trying to maneuver Noah away from the curtained opening that led to escape. As Noah rushed to counter Jones’s moves, a small dark shape flew past his head from behind. He ducked; it was a bat. He straightened as two more flew past. Then a group appeared, more than he could count. Noah backed up as dozens of the leathery-winged creatures filled the air of the small room. They flitted silently about the room, though as their numbers continued to increase their fluttering became a low rushing sound.

Jones stared, too, unable to make sense of the sudden appearance of the animals. Willow stood with her arms folded, a satisfied smirk on her face. Her eyes twinkled for a moment before her face grew stern. Her wings rose high and twitched.

“Want to see some
real
magic, Chester?” she said. She struck a pose, throwing her right arm upwards and pointing her open hand at him. The bats’ random flight took on purpose, and they surrounded Jones in a cloud of fluttering and cheeping. Though they didn’t bite or attack, their mere presence and numbers would rattle the stoutest heart. Jones dropped his knife and swatted at his tormenters, turning round and round in confusion until he abruptly stepped off the front of the bench. He fell forward and landed heavily, his face striking the stone floor.

Willow dropped her arm and the bats returned to their disorganized fluttering. She walked over to Jones as he raised himself up on one arm. Blood streamed from his nose.

“This is for Daisy,” she said, and punched him in the face with a short, sharp blow. His head snapped back, and then he fell onto his stomach and lay still.

Noah stood with his mouth open and watched Willow’s show. She raised both arms in the air and smiled up at the bats. They flew to her, surrounding her in a wall of flapping wings, each hovering just a few inches away. Through their tumult, Noah could see Willow bow her head in salute and lower her arms. The bats wheeled away in unison and flew away to the larger cave.

Noah still held the knife high, as blood dripped from his elbow onto the stone floor. He lowered it and looked at Willow. Their eyes met and she ran to his arms, clutching herself fiercely against him. Noah dropped the knife and clasped her with his left arm, holding the injured arm away.

“I thought I had lost you,” he said.

“I thought you had, too,” Willow said. Noah stroked her hair, but stopped at her sudden intake of breath.

“Careful.”

“I’m sorry, I forgot. Let me see.” Noah found a huge goose egg sporting an ugly laceration. Blood still seeped from it. “No wonder you were unconscious. You are in serious need of some fairy spit.”

Willow giggled. “So are you. Let me see that arm.”

Noah winced as she slid his sleeve up. She grimaced. “Well, it’s too far from your heart to kill you, but it’s ugly. Give me your handkerchief.” She ripped his shirtsleeve off above the elbow, pressed the handkerchief to the cut and then tied the sleeve around his arm to hold it in place. “That will do until we get back to the cottage.”

“Thanks. Does your head still hurt?”

“It’s getting better.”