A fear dearg of all things. And in England rather than Ireland. The Fae could, of course, travel, but didn’t usually go so far afield. Had she encountered in her homeland what she had in Chippingwich, she would have recognized the signs, would have known much sooner what they were facing. Then again, were she in Ireland, everyone would have realized what they were facing, and she wouldn’t be struggling with the enormity of defeating the monster on her own.
“There are many reasons the Fae avoid the mortal realm, iron being chief among them.” She could hear her gran’s words in her mind. “Iron bends the Fae. It twists them about, interferes with their magic. The most dangerous among them can only be felled by weapons of iron.”
Heaven help them all if Kirby and Royston were unable to obtain an iron axe or sword. Fear dearg grew bolder with every bit of mischief and torment. They came to enjoy the misery they caused, yet quickly found it insufficient. They grew worse and worse with time, and this fear dearg had been at his current mischief for nearly a century. That the village suspected their monster-turned-squire had killed the last shop owner to push back against him didn’t surprise her, but it did worry her. The squire would soon grow quite bold in that respect as well. Chippingwich would move from being tormented to being decimated.
The door, splintered but still functioning, opened. Her heart hammered on the instant but settled when Royston stepped inside.
He sauntered toward her, the same dandified gait he’d employed when first they’d met. It was a disguise; she could see that so clearly now.
“What news have you?” she asked once he’d reached her.
“My shipment of fabrics arrived today,” he said. “Only the fabrics.”
She rubbed at the back of her neck. “Without the remainder of that shipment, we are in dire straits.” They simply had to have an iron weapon.
“I do believe Kirby secured what we were looking for. It simply has not reached us yet.”
She sighed. “Let us hope we receive that shipment in time.”
“And with no indication of what’s inside,” he added.
Saints, that’d be a disaster. “We cannot risk raising a certain . . . person’s suspicions.”
He tugged at his lace-edged cuffs. “Tosh. I meant only that it’s far more enjoyable to open a packet when one has no idea what might be inside.”
How was it she hadn’t seen through these antics sooner? He had managed to fool the fear dearg but had also pulled the wool over her eyes. “If you have no idea what is inside the packet we are anticipating, then I have concerns about your intelligence.”
He chuckled. “Let us hope the squire harbors those same doubts.”
“About both of us,” she said.
Royston took her hand and raised it to his lips, pressing a warm kiss to the backs of her fingers. “I do not believe I have ever met your equal, Tallulah O’Doyle. You are brave and kind and, yes, intelligent.”
“And you, Royston Prescott, are showing yourself to have excellent taste.”
Again, he lightly laughed. With obvious reluctance, he slipped his hand from hers and stepped toward the door. “I will watch for our delivery. In the meantime, take care.”
“I will say the same to you.”
He dipped his head in a flourishing bow. A moment later, he was gone, and she was, once more, alone. Before the squire’s destructive visit, her shop had seldom been empty. The villagers, bless them, had continued to come by, to look in on her, to offer what help they could. She loved the people of Chippingwich, and she was determined to free them from the grip of the dangerous monster in their midst, one they could not fully see for what it was.
“What a shame all your customers have fled.” A whoosh of red and a waft of putridity accompanied the sardonic observation.
“Mr. Carman,” she said, keeping her tone as calm and disinterested as ever. It wouldn’t do to tip her hand before they were ready to truly do battle with the monster. “I have not yet begun replacing the candies and sweets and baked goods that were lost when the window broke. I do not know how soon I will do so.”
“I only came to offer a friendly greeting.” He turned his head toward her as he spoke, a shaft of light spilling across his face. It appeared as a double, both the human visage the villagers saw and the rat-like face of the fear dearg beneath. Each face faded in and out, repeatedly replaced by the other. His disguise was breaking down.
“You’ve offered your greeting,” she said. “Now, I need to get back to the matter of repairing m’ shop.”
Squire Carman made a slow, dramatic turn, eyeing the room with a mock expression of concern. “A shame what happened.”
As he turned, his cape rustled, and a rat’s tail became momentarily visible. Why was it she was seeing so much more of the monster beneath the disguise? What had changed?
Perhaps knowing what he was made it more difficult to be fooled.
Or, perhaps, just as his mask had first cracked in her presence when he’d grown angry with her, the disguise fell to bits the more upset the fear dearg was. And if she was seeing him so clearly, then he was not as calm as he appeared.
“It would be a true shame if more damage occurred here,” Mr. Carman said.
“Yes, it would.” She held her ground, watching him warily and closely. Heavens, that tail of his wasn’t hidden in the least. How odd that only she and Royston could see it.
“And yet, it seems unavoidable.” The squire turned back slowly. His eyes glowed as they had before. His human face had grown nearly transparent. His disguise was all but gone.
“What makes it unavoidable?” she asked.
“The way you look at me.” The fear dearg inched closer, his demonic gaze unblinking and hurling actual physical heat at her. “You hide it well, bean.” That he called her by the Irish word for woman worried her. He understood that his origins in her homeland had offered her insights none of the others had. “You know what I am.”
“Irish children are taught young the dangers of the Fae.”
“And, yet, you’ve stumbled right into that danger.”
Newly repaired shelves began to rattle. The paper in the window ripped. All the while, the fear dearg didn’t look away from her, didn’t take another step.
“I’ve a good arrangement here,” the monster said. “I’ll not let you destroy it.”
“I’ve good friends and neighbors here,” she said in return. “I’ll not let you destroy them.”
“I’ve not eaten any of them.” His mouth turned up in a sinister smile, revealing sharp, jagged teeth. “Yet. But I’m running out of ‘distinguished visitors.’”