Gods and Swindlers (City of Eldrich Book 3) (21 page)

Luka smiled as he walked past them. “Of course. I’ve known you for three thousand years. I knew how you felt about her before you did.”

“How did you get here?” Meaghan asked.

Natalie shrugged. “Dustin chalked the symbols on the pantry floor and the gateway popped right open. Where the hell did all this snow come from? I’ve only been gone since this morning, right?”

Meaghan nodded. “Did you know Buzz Hallam is a troll?”

“Yeah,” Natalie said. “You didn’t know that?”

“No.” Meagan said stiffly. “Nobody bothered to mention it to me.”

Natalie sighed. “Not this again. I thought you knew. If you don’t know something now it’s because we all assume someone else told you.”

“Then why did Kady lie about it? You’re telling me she doesn’t know?”

Natalie shrugged. “How should I know what she knows? Buzz doesn’t walk around telling people he’s a troll, but he doesn’t hide it either. You’re making this into a big deal and it’s not. It’s not some plot against you. We’re not that organized. You saw what a crappy job we did hiding the truth about Eldrich. We wanted to give you a few days to settle in, but all we managed was a few hours before the spells were flying. Along with Jamie.”

She’s right, you know. If you want to know stuff, ask more questions.
Meaghan took a deep breath, then nodded. “Sorry. I’m . . . it’s a sore spot.”

“No kidding,” Natalie said. She took her own deep breath. “It’s not like you don’t have a reason to be suspicious, but my secrets are spilled, I promise.” She glanced at Owen with a smile. “Even this one.”

Owen rolled his eyes. “Most of my secrets are forgotten, to be perfectly honest. I can’t remember half the shit I’ve done after all these years.” He glanced at Meaghan. “Now you know about me and Luka and the Donners. How you doing with that?”

Meaghan rubbed her face. “I’ll tell you when it hits me. The swindler part doesn’t really surprise me, but I’m still trying to wrap my brain around Terry being a thunder god.”

Natalie giggled. “He sure doesn’t act like a god.”

Owen snorted. “Well, not like a modern one, but smiting under the influence was all the rage back in the day. Fortunately, Terry—even when falling down drunk—usually remembered he was a stand-in, not the star. Unlike Cian. I always hated that guy. The way he treated Luka was shitty.”

He looked up at Meaghan, a defensive gleam in his eye. “Luka never scammed anyone who didn’t deserve it. And he’s done a lot of good since we went straight. He’s not the bad guy Cian’s stories made him out to be.”

So you say. I’m reserving judgment.
Meaghan nodded. “Good to know. I have too many bad guys to deal with already. Including the elf in my basement. Time for you guys to scam someone who deserves it.”

Chapter Twenty-Six

M
EAGHAN FOUND JOHN
and Steph back in the kitchen, watching Terry and Luka try to explain themselves to Russ, Dustin, and three awed monks.

Steph grinned at Meaghan. “Come to see the show?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

John held his arms open and Meaghan moved to his side. “Now I understand why they didn’t want me to tell you,” he said in a low voice. “But you’re more sensible than these.” He frowned at the monks. “They’re struggling. So is your brother.”

Meaghan nodded. “I’ve never seen this side of him. Maybe because he isn’t in his own kitchen. If we were home, he’d be too busy making dinner to care.”

“Food is important to him,” John said in a solemn tone. “His form of magic.”

Meaghan surveyed the three robed monks standing with Dustin. They were all staring intently at Terry.

Two were human. The third one . . . Meaghan wasn’t sure. He had his hood up and he was much smaller than the other two.

Elf?
She quickly dismissed the idea. The mystery monk was too stocky to be an elf. He was on the small side, but he could be a Troon. The archive had several Troon. Or he could be one of the many species she hadn’t encountered yet.

Or he could be a small human.

Terry groaned. “I’m not a god. I’m a big dumb guy who could hold his mead and got struck by lightning a lot. Nothing divine about it.”

One of the humans, about the same age as Dustin, with a shaved head and glasses, scowled. “You mean you don’t have a hammer?”

“Well, yeah, of course, I do. I’m a blacksmith. And a handyman. I got shitloads of hammers.”

“Mjolnir?” another human asked. This one looked even younger than Dustin, with sloppy blond hair and multiple freckles. “Is one of them Mjolnir?”

Terry rolled his eyes. “You want a magic hammer?” He yanked open a drawer and pulled something out. “Here.”

“What’s its name?” said the first monk, eyeing with suspicion the claw hammer in Terry’s hand.

“Craftsman.” Terry held the hammer out for inspection. “See?”

“That’s not a magic hammer.” The second monk couldn’t hide his disappointment.

“Do you know how good the warranty is on this thing?” Terry dropped the hammer back into the drawer and slammed it shut. “As long as I hang onto the receipt, it’s guaranteed for life. If I bust it, I take it back to Sears, and they give me a new one. How much more magic do you want?”

Steph laughed out loud.

“Neither of us are gods,” said Luka. “We have that settled. Who are you guys?”

Dustin stepped forward. “Uh, this is Todd.” He pointed at the bald one, who turned pink and stared at his toes. “And Clint.”

The freckled one raised his hand. “Yo.”

Luka turned to the final figure. “How about you?”

“That’s Brother Enoch,” Dustin said. “He’s taken a vow of silence.”

The small figure nodded. Meaghan looked for a telltale flash of blue that would identify Enoch as a Troon, but the hood was deep enough that Meaghan couldn’t see his face. She glanced at his hands. He was wearing gloves. Whatever he was, he was doing his best to hide it. Her fear returned. If Enoch was a disguised elf and she outed him here, he’d either teleport or she’d end up with another prisoner and still no idea what the fair folk were up to.

She glanced at John. His brows were knitted as he stared at Enoch.
He’s suspicious, too.
She squeezed his hand and, when he glanced at her, she gave a tiny shake of her head and mouthed “not here.”

John nodded.

Todd pinned Luka with a skeptical stare. “So, you aren’t trying to kill him?”

Luka shook his head. “Nope. That’s only in the movies. I have nothing but affection for him.”

Terry snorted. “You’re so full of shit.”

Luka smiled at him. “I love you, too.” He turned his attention back to the monks. “So, Eamon O’Malley, when did you change your name to Enoch? And a brother of the Word? I can’t wait to hear the story behind this one.”

The other monks took a step away from Brother Enoch, who took his own step away from Luka and Terry.

“Eamon O’Malley?” Terry asked Luka. “You sure?”

Luka nodded.

Terry started laughing. “Owen’s gonna love this.”

Brother Enoch held up his hands and furiously shook his head. He backed away from Luka toward the still-open gateway in the pantry.

As the small monk neared the table, John reached out, grabbed Brother Enoch, and pulled the deep hood from his head.

A small sweaty face topped with dirt-colored hair appeared. “Shite. You giant bastard, whaddya do that for?”

“You,” John said, his eyes narrowing.

The unmasked leprechaun took a closer look at John. He moaned with fear. He wrenched free and scrambled in the other direction. “Not the bees. Not the bloody bees again.”

Bees?
He had to be talking about John’s honeybees, who had a tendency to swarm in his defense.

Terry scooped up the little monk, holding him in the air by the back of his robe. “Eamon.” He grinned wolfishly. “How you doing?”

“This keeps getting worse,” the leprechaun squeaked.

Steph got to her feet and sauntered over to Terry. “And worse and worse.”

Eamon groaned.

Steph glared at him. “You loathsome little spud, are you spying on us?”

“No,” he said. “I swear. It’s only a job. I didn’t know you lot were gonna be here.” In a flash, his demeanor changed. With an oily smile at Steph, he said, “If you get your fine husband to put me down, I’ll make it worth your while.”

Luka snorted back a laugh.

Smiling, Steph shook her head. “Oh, I don’t think so.”

“Owen,” Terry called. “Get in here and take a look at this rat we caught.”

Now John took his turn. “You threatened to break my hives,” he growled. “You tried to hurt my bees. They did not like that.”

“Right, the protection money shakedown,” Meaghan said, now making the connection. “I knew I’d heard the name before.”

Eamon glared at Meaghan. “Who’s this?”

“That’s Meaghan Keele,” Luka said. “You know, Matthew’s daughter?”

Eamon wilted like old lettuce and began to cry. “Please, not her. The other boys are innocent. Don’t destroy our home, lady. Please, I’m beggin’.”

“Oh, for hell’s sake,” Meaghan said. “It was only the one time, and I did it to save everybody else.”

Owen stepped into the crowded kitchen. He stared at Eamon, still dangling from Terry’s fist, and sighed. “You’re an embarrassment to the species, Eamon.”

Eamon began thrashing, suddenly enraged. “You’re the embarrassment, boyo. You’re gonna make it all start again. Bastard.” He glared at Terry. “Put me down, Sparky. You don’t scare me no more. Everybody knows the lightning fizzled outta you years ago.”

Steph poked Eamon with her index finger. “What did you do? Did you make that happen?”

“Ow, you old cow, quit that.” Eamon continued to struggle. “Make what happen?”

“Steph,” Owen said. “Let me handle this. Terry, put him down.”

Terry lowered Eamon, then dropped him so he fell the last foot to the kitchen floor. He pushed himself to his feet, brushed off his robe, and smoothed his hair.

Meaghan compared Eamon to Owen. The height was similar, but the comparison ended there. Even when he was fighting the Order with her in the shattered remains of city hall, Owen had looked far less disheveled than Eamon did now.

Owen stood with his arms out. “Here I am. Do your worst.”

Eamon growled and hurled himself at Owen, who did a graceful side step. Owen then grasped Eamon’s arm, gave what looked like a gentle push and Eamon crashed, head first, into the wall.

He sat up, holding his nose. “Whaddya do to me? That’s not fair.”

“Fair?” Owen snorted. “You’re complaining about fighting fair? You’re the dirtiest fighter I’ve ever met.”

“Yeah, but not like that.” Eamon waved a hand in the air. “That Oriental stuff. It’s not right for us.”

Owen shook his head. “Since when am I considered one of the boys? You little shits threw me out, remember?”

“Yeah, but only because you was gonna get us in trouble with . . .” Eamon glanced around furtively, then whispered, “the lords and ladies.”

“The fair folk?” Meaghan asked.

“Don’t say their name,” Eamon hissed.

“I haven’t,” Meaghan said. “That’s a euphemism, too.”

“A yoofa what?”

“Fake name,” Owen said. He glanced up at Meaghan. “You see what I have to deal with? Why I get so upset when I get lumped in with these idiots? Credulous, obsequious morons, the whole lot of them.”

“Oh, listen to his lordship here with his fancy words,” Eamon said. “Swannin’ about in his silk suits like his shite don’t stink. Under that fancy hairdo, you’re still one of us. A great giant wanker, yeah, but still one of us.” He glared at Owen. “It’s time you come home, boyo, and quit makin’ trouble.”

“That was never my home,” Owen hissed. “I may have been born with you clowns, but it was never my home.”

“Um.” Meaghan raised her hand. “Excuse me, but I have a question.” She pinned Eamon with a stern look. “You said you were on a job. Who are you working for? And what are you doing?”

“I can’t tell you who my client is. I got a duty,” Eamon said.

Owen snorted. “Duty, my ass. You really want to piss her off? You think that’s a good idea?”

Eamon tried to glare back at Owen, but after a glance at Meaghan, he folded. “I never seen his face.”

“A wizard?” Meaghan asked.

Eamon shrugged. “I didn’t ask. That’s his business.”

“Eamon,” Owen said. “Remember Fahraya.”

“All right, all right,” Eamon said. “He never said and I never asked, but I could feel big power.”

“And, you agreed to do a job for a man with obvious power when you couldn’t even see his face?” Meaghan shook her head in disbelief.

Eamon jutted out his chin, a defiant look on his small face. “Didn’t need to see his face. I could see his money. Gold. None of that dodgy paper shite you humans like so much.”

“Dodgy?” Meaghan glanced at Owen.

“Don’t ask,” Owen said. “Gold—it’s a leprechaun thing. Modern finance is lost on these dopes.”

“You’re not like that,” Meaghan said.

“Which is why I’m rich,” Owen said, shaking his head, “and why they’re still scrambling for gold. Idiots.”

“It weren’t only for the gold,” Eamon said. “I did it for the cause.”

“The cause?” Meaghan glanced at Owen.

He shook his head, a baffled look on his face.