Night of the Dark Horse (An Allegra Fairweather Mystery) (9 page)

Without argument, Casper walked straight to the car and opened the passenger door.

“Aren’t you going to fly?” I asked.

When he didn’t reply, I figured flying was no longer possible. I made sure he was buckled in tight then I hit the gas hard.

We found Ronan passed out on his sofa, a half empty whiskey bottle beside him. After tiptoeing past, I headed for the bathroom and the first aid kit. At my request Casper pulled off his T-shirt. His skin was a network of cuts and scratches. His shoulder was turning some interesting shades of purple.

“Antiseptic,” I said. “But those cuts need to be washed first. Since you can’t go to Cloud 9, you’ll have to shower here.” I looked at my own dirt-encrusted clothes. “Looks like we both need showers.”

“We can’t shower together,” Casper said.

He’d broken so many Rules of Conduct lately it hardly mattered anymore, but apparently some old habits died harder than others. I let Casper have the bathroom first. While he was showering, I did my best to brush the dried mud off his clothes. Thankfully there were no spots of blood, which would’ve really tested my domestic skills.

When Casper emerged from the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist, I wiped his cuts with a cotton pad drenched in antiseptic. He didn’t even wince. I stuck on some Band-Aids. Maybe I stuck on a few too many, but I was desperate to help him heal. Casper didn’t seem to notice. He seemed to be retreating from my world, as though Cloud 9 was reaching out to him even while he resisted its pull.

I told him to lie down while I trotted off to shower and change. Then I insisted we eat. Casper protested that angels didn’t need to eat.

“You’ll eat and like it,” I said, sounding too much like Mom for my liking.

Since cooking isn’t featured in my skill set, we headed for the Black Shamrock. After installing Casper at a table, I ordered two servings of my favorite Irish stew and two half pints of Guinness.

When our meals arrived, I put on my severest mommy-expression and insisted Casper eat everything on his plate. When he was done, I told him he’d earned another drink and headed for the bar.

Niamh was relaxed tonight. Her smile actually reached her eyes as she pulled the drinks. No prizes for guessing Colum and his morons weren’t in the pub. I was paying for the drinks when the pub door banged open and Aedan came in splattered with raindrops. He cast a wary eye around for Colum and his mates. When he didn’t see them, he relaxed and approached the bar. I smiled at him, making sure Niamh saw. There was a bandage on his head and bruises on his face.

“Hi Aedan, how you feeling?” I asked.

“I’m grand.”

“You look grand in those jeans.”

He blushed to the roots of his red hair. “Ah, thanks.” He turned to Niamh and ordered a pint.

Niamh wagged a finger at him as though he was being very naughty. “I heard you had a concussion. What would Dr. Gallagher say if I served you alcohol?” Apparently nobody saw the doctor in Dingaleen without the rest of the town finding out about it. “You’d best stick to soft drink tonight.”

Aedan was putty in her hands and immediately ordered an orange juice.

I brushed raindrops from his hair. “You’re wet.”

“The rain just started. Looks like it’s goin’ to be quite a storm.” Several people in the pub overheard him, drained their glasses and left. Worried about the pooka or getting wet? I glanced at Casper, interested in his opinion, but he hadn’t overheard our conversation. He was kind of slumped over, elbows on the table, head bowed staring into his empty glass. A storm—even if it included a visit by the pooka—was the least of his worries.

Niamh put Aedan’s drink on the counter. When he paid for it, their hands touched. He blushed. She didn’t seem to notice the touch or the blush. When he picked up his glass, liquid slopped over the side onto the bar.

“Sorry,” he said.

“No harm done,” said Niamh wiping the counter.

His blush deepened. I’d better get him away from her before his face combusted.

“Want to join us, Aedan?” I asked.

He shot a glance at Niamh as though he’d much rather join her—even if she was working. I took hold of his arm, “Come on,” and guided him to our table.

He pulled out a chair, which looked kind of rickety. I opened my mouth to warn him, but he was already sitting. The chair leg snapped with a loud crack. I caught him before he hit the floor.

“I’m such an eejit,” said Aedan, swapping chairs and testing the legs before he sat again. “No wonder they call me unlucky.”

Looking for hope in a hopeless situation, I asked, “Have you always been—um—luck challenged? Even when you were a kid?”

“Nah.”
Aha
,
maybe
there
was
light
at
the
end
of
the
tunnel
. “For a while I was like all the other kids. Then me mum died in that freak haystack accident.”

“What about your dad?”

“Killed a month later by a runaway sheep.”

“Brothers and sisters?”

“I’m an only child.”

And the object of his affections—I hoped she wasn’t the love of his life—was currently flirting with another customer. Maybe I could use a wish to improve Aedan’s luck. But Padraig had warned not to make my wishes too lavish.

Aedan glanced anxiously at Casper. “Is your friend okay?”

Casper had slumped right over until his forehead was resting on the table. I said, “He’s just tired. He’ll be fine.” What I thought was that I’d better get Casper back to Ronan’s. I wondered whether Ronan would mind me bringing Casper back for a sleepover. Considering Ronan’s condition last time I saw him, he probably wouldn’t notice. What was it with me and unconscious men? Was it something in my stars?

This
week
,
with
your
moon
in
Venus
,
you’ll
pack
a
punch
in
the
love
stakes
.
Men
will
be
knocked
out
by
your
charming
personality
.

Aedan took another large swallow from his glass, leaving an orangey moustache on his upper lip. Niamh, who had few customers besides us, chose that moment to cross the room and collect our empties. Aedan looked at her longingly. Before I could hand him a napkin to wipe his lip, he turned to her and smiled. Even worse than his orangey moustache were the poppy seeds stuck between his front teeth. I wanted to stop time. Rewind. Give him some dental floss and a napkin to wipe his face. But even Padraig’s wishes couldn’t stop time.

Before Aedan could make things worse, I shot to my feet, stepped between him and Niamh, and asked him to help me get Casper home.

“No problem,” Aedan said, eager to help. We each got an arm around Casper. On my count of three we hefted him to his feet. Aedan was stronger than I’d expected and supported more than his fair share of Casper’s weight. As we crossed the stained carpet, Niamh hurried to open the door for us.

I hardly noticed the volley of raindrops. All my attention was focused on getting Casper home and into bed before the Powers-That-Be got wind of his condition and whisked him away from me for all eternity. Despite Aedan’s help, it took forever to walk Casper a few steps. We’d be lucky to reach Ronan’s by morning.

“This isn’t going to work,” I said. “Time for Plan B.”

We eased Casper to the ground, leaning his back against the wall of the pub. Aedan sat beside him, supporting him while I jogged back to Ronan’s to get the car. Soon I had returned and parked outside the pub. This time it was easier. We only had to carry Casper’s deadweight a few paces to the open car door. We almost had him in the passenger seat when the sound of hoof beats filled the air. A wild whinny split the night. The pooka galloped down the main street, snorting and tossing its mane.

“Shit,” I muttered.

Aedan said, “Drive your friend home. I’ll get rid of the pooka.”

But the pooka had other ideas. “Allegra Mabel Fairweather, I call you to ride.”

“Not again,” I groaned. Although I shouldn’t have been surprised. The pooka was bound to be pissed off after I’d dug up Sharina’s grave.

“Make sure Casper is secure,” I told Aedan. “Buckle his seatbelt.”

I strode into the middle of the road and faced the pooka. Fairy shapeshifter my ass, he looked more like a demon from the seventh circle of hell. He reared up and pawed the air. His hoofs crashed to the road showering me with sparks. The wish-pebbles rattled in my pocket. Okay they weren’t supposed to work on the Fae, but it was worth a shot. I dug both pebbles from my pocket and held them high. The pooka cocked its head. Curious.

I yelled, “I wish that you will never harm another human or destroy human property.”

His lips stretched in an evil grin. “Leprechaun’s wishes don’t work on me.”

“Bugger.”

“Allegra Mabel Fairweather, I call you to ride. This time there’ll be no mercy.”

“Oh, lose the melodrama,” I snapped, returning the pebbles to my pocket. Then, making a supreme effort to be reasonable, “Look, I know Sharina Levara was your mom. It’s hard to lose a parent. My dad disappeared when I was fifteen. But here’s the thing. Calling innocent people to ride won’t bring your mom back. Hurting humans won’t stop your hurt.” I took a step forward. “I want to help you. Come on, talk to me, we can resolve this. What do you want?”

“I want you to die.”

Right, so we were clear on that. Shame he wasn’t going to get his wish. Forcing my voice into a soothing tone, I said, “I’m really sorry about what happened to your mom, and though I can’t bring her back, maybe I can find your father.”

The pooka went crazy. His eyes glowed like a lighthouse on steroids. Streams of flame shot from his nostrils. I put an arm up to shield my face. When I smelled singed hair, I gave up and leaped for cover behind a stone wall.

From the safety of my hiding place, I yelled, “Listen, I’m just a dumb PI, help me out here. What’s the problem with your dad? Why don’t you want to find him?”

“If he gave a feck, he would’ve found
me
.”

How many times had I thought that about my own dad? Under other circumstances I’d buy the pooka a drink and we could have a good old whine about absent fathers. However, in the interests of stopping the pooka’s reign of terror, I tried to justify the unjustifiable. “Maybe your dad couldn’t come looking for you. Maybe he was in prison or something.”

“So now I’m the son of a criminal. Sure, you’re a world of comfort, Allegra Fairweather.”

“Well, maybe not prison. Maybe he’s on a secret government mission.” Okay, not my best work, but I was tired. I’d had a couple of drinks.

The pooka didn’t cut me any slack. “You’re an eejit, Allegra Fairweather.”

I peeped over the wall. The pooka pawed the ground and snorted like a bull preparing to charge. Those lethal hoofs could collapse my stone wall in seconds. I gave it one last shot.

“We can work this out. Shift into another body—something less animal—and let’s talk. We can go in the pub. I’ll buy you a Guinness.” Tempting a kid with alcohol—even if he was a pooka—was wrong on so many levels. But my only regret was that it didn’t produce the desired result.

The pooka lowered its head and charged. I leaped over the wall and sprinted past it in the opposite direction. It saw me heading for the car. Turning on a dime, it came after me. I ran fast, but the pooka ran faster. He crashed into me, hard. I lost balance and fell on my ass. The pooka reared over me, hoofs working like he was practicing for the Tour de France. I rolled, narrowly avoiding a vicious kick, and jumped to my feet.

Aedan saw what was happening and rushed at the pooka waving his hands, trying to distract him. The pooka unleashed its fury on Unlucky Aedan, who took the full weight of the pooka’s hoofs on his chest and fell backward. Winded and pale, Aedan rolled onto his hands and knees and tried to stand. No chance. He collapsed face down on the tarmac and lay still.

Now I was really angry. I swung my left fist into the pooka’s side. He whinnied and shot a blow-torch of fame at me. I dodged, ducked under his head and came up on his other side to land a right on his jaw. His head snapped back. He staggered as though he’d just come from a session in the pub.

“You hurt me.” The voice was still deep, but the tone was childlike, confused. Had nobody stood up to him before? Maybe not, but I wasn’t ready to cut him any slack.

I pointed at Aedan’s unmoving body. “This is murder.”

The pooka wobbled on his four legs. He stared at Aedan with what appeared to be concern. “He’s not dead. He’s still breathing.”

“You sure about that?”

“No.” His voice trembled.

“So, you ready to talk or do you want some more?” I raised my fist. The pooka flinched. He stifled a sob. His eyes lost their ferocity and became more like a frightened child’s.

“Liam?” I whispered. The pooka backed away, eyes wide, nostrils flared in panic. He about-faced and galloped from the village. I switched my attention to Aedan’s crumpled form. Yep, he was still breathing. Even better, Niamh had left the safety of the pub and was bending over him.

“Call Dr. Gallagher,” I yelled to her and dashed off in the direction of Liam’s house. Much as I hated to leave Aedan, I had to go. I had a small window of opportunity to prove that Liam and the pooka were one and the same.

The O’Reillys’ house wasn’t far. I hammered on the door. His dad, who might not be his dad if Liam was a changeling, opened the door. He didn’t look like your stereotypical accountant. He didn’t look like Liam, either, with his sandy hair and huge shoulders. He wouldn’t have been out of place on a rugby field.

“Is Liam home?” I yelled.

Startled, he stepped backward. Who was the crazy woman at his door?

“I need to know where Liam is. Now!”

“Why? What’s your business with my son? Who are you?”