“I am not the one who ought to be concerned with what is in my best interest.”
Tallulah set her hands on the counter, feeling the shift in the balance of things. She had the oddest sensation of not being entirely stable on the ground.
“Now,” the squire said in a tone that could never be mistaken for patience, “do you intend to take the order I have come to place?”
The fear she felt growing inside insisted she bow to his demands. He was frightening, and powerful. If she didn’t stand up to him, she doubted anyone ever would.
She swallowed. Breathed. And pushed on. “You will have to place your order elsewhere.”
The displeasure in his eyes grew quickly to fury. The very ground beneath them began to shake. Items on shelves shifted and moved, jumping dangerously about. A glass bowl of candies fell to the floor and shattered. Confections flew from shelves and boxes, landing in ruined heaps on the floor.
All the while, the squire watched her, unblinking. The hatred in his eyes gave them an unholy glow. One she was nearly certain was literal. Literal and heated and radiating red.
The glass in the window wobbled, an unnerving rolling motion she knew glass was not meant to make.
The squire’s expression twisted with hatred. And with it, his face changed. It seemed to pull, elongate, grow misshapen.
Faster and faster the window shook and waved. More and more grotesque grew the squire’s face.
Then—a cracking sound.
Tallulah dove to the ground, her head tucked in and her arms covering herself as much as she could manage. In the very next instant, a blast of air shook the space and the window gave, showering her and the shop with shards of wood and glass.
“You, Tallulah O’Doyle, have made a very grave error.”
From her position ducked behind the counter, she heard the sound of the squire’s exiting footfalls, crunching on the bits of glass and candies and debris strewn about the floor.
She remained there, curled in a ball, shaken more than she cared to admit. He had done this. He had done it while standing in place, and without causing himself the least harm. Though she was uninjured, she suspected he could have hurt her if he’d wish to. It was a warning, an easier consequence than what he would likely inflict the next time.
All was quiet in the shop. She could hear nothing beyond the sound of her breathing and the wind whistling in through the broken window. She was grateful the children had already left the shop. How many others in town would know soon enough what had happened? Her determination to help them by standing firm might simply have made them more afraid, put them in more danger.
“Tallulah?” Someone was calling her name. The sound of glass crunching beneath heavy footsteps told her the speaker was in the shop. “Tallulah, are you hurt?”
Royston Prescott. She recognized his voice now. And she felt better.
Slowly, carefully, she stood once more. Glass and bits of cake and biscuits and candies rolled off her as she straightened.
“All the market cross saw your window shatter,” he said. “And even before the squire stepped out, we knew what had happened.”
“You knew he had this power?” She tried not to let her fear show, but she was not at all certain she’d succeeded.
He nodded. “None of us knows where his abilities come from, but we have all had our own experience with them. He is a dangerous man.”
“He is not a man. I know enough of the Fae to know he is some variety of monster.”
Royston brushed bits of debris from her shoulders with his gloved hands. “Whatever he is, he’s dangerous.”
“All the more reason none of us can face him alone.”
He looked her in the eyes. “This has not scared you off? Hasn’t convinced you to stop trying?”
“If the children had still been in here when he did this, they might have been hurt or worse. I cannot shrug and walk away simply because I’m afraid. It’s time this village escaped the grip of whatever the squire truly is.”
A smile spread across Royston’s handsome face. “Kirby said he was certain you wouldn’t flinch. I’m happy he was right. Chippingwich has been waiting a long time for someone like you.”
Móirín dropped into the shop at the end of Brogan’s workday. She wore the slightly tattered cloak and bonnet she always chose when they were bound for the poorer corners of London. Blending in was a helpful thing. So was being armed. Móirín had likely brought him his pistol. She always had hers.
“We’re for Somers Town today,” Móirín said. “Frank sent word they’re having troubles.”
“He did?” Brogan hadn’t seen any note arrive.
She eyed him sidelong. “You’ve been a wee bit distracted. I’d be surprised to hear you’d noticed a single thing beyond a certain gray-eyed lass from Russia.”
Thank the heavens Vera wasn’t in the room at the moment. Her da was seated at the printing-order table in conversation with a customer who’d only just arrived. They were too focused on their transaction to be paying Brogan and Móirín any heed.
“Vera and I have struck up a friendship between us,” he said. “I’ll grant you that.”
“Lie to yourself all you want, Brog. It’ll not change the truth of the thing.”
“And what truth is that?”
“Firstly, that you talk about her constantly. Secondly”—she counted off on her fingers—“that the two of you are forever holding hands. Thirdly, I’ve eyes in m’head and can see for my own self how you look at her.”
“I surrender.” He held his hands up. “Give me a moment to let Vera know I’m nipping off.”
“Go give her a kiss goodbye. I’ll be right here waiting.”
Kiss goodbye. Móirín was not going to stop teasing him about this. If only he truly knew what “this” was. He knew he was far more than fond of Vera, and he was well aware he felt a vast deal more than friendship for her. He thought the feeling might be mutual, but he’d no guarantee.
The woman herself arrived in the room in the next moment, having been up in the flat above the shop.
“Zdrastvui,” Móirín greeted.
“What brings you ’round?” Vera stopped directly in front of them both.
“M’brother and I are jaunting out to Somers Town to look in on some people who’re struggling.” After the briefest look of absolute mischief tossed Brogan’s way, Móirín again addressed Vera. “We’d love for you to join us.”