Sticks and Stone

An
Ellora’s
Cave
Romantica
Publication

www.ellorascave.com

Sticks and Stone

ISBN 9781419924828

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Sticks and Stone Copyright © 2003
Jennifer Dunne

Cover art by
Syneca

Electronic book publication 2003

The terms
Romantica
®
and Quickies® are registered trademarks of
Ellora’s
Cave Publishing.

With the exception of quotes used in
reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any
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Ellora’s
Cave Publishing, Inc.® 1056 Home Avenue, Akron OH
44310-3502.

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This book is a work of fiction and
any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is
purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination
and used fictitiously.

S
TICKS
AND
S
TONE

Jennifer Dunne

Ireland,
present day

“This isn’t how I envisioned present-day
Ireland,” said the nerd at the table.

Dermot Stone wished he would quit talking.
Every moment Dermot had to spend responding was one less moment available for
the task of getting shit-faced drunk.

“So what were you envisioning?” asked the
other guy, Greg something.
A lawyer.

The nerd shrugged and took another drink
of Guinness. “I don’t know. More people wearing green, I guess.
A few more redheaded wee Irish lasses.
Where are the pet
leprechauns?”

Dermot really needed to switch tables. He
was far from sober himself, but at least alcohol didn’t turn him into a
babbling idiot. He sighed and looked around the wedding reception. A huge
number of people, probably hundreds, having themselves a grand old time and
here he was sitting at a table with a lawyer and an intoxicated nerd.
Wonderful.

Greg the Lawyer took a sip from his beer,
grimacing a bit. The guy clearly wasn’t a drinker. “So, Zev, are you here for
the bride or groom?” he asked the nerd.

“The bride.
Tami’s an
ex-girlfriend.”

That caught Dermot’s attention.
“Really?”

“Yeah.
We were together
for about a month when she was living in the states.”

“She was my
nanny
,” said Dermot. “I
lost my virginity to her.”

“Your
nanny
?” asked Greg. “How old
are you?”

“Never mind,” said Dermot, immediately
wishing he’d kept his mouth shut. “It’s a long story.”

 
“Yeah, but
you’re, what, early thirties? She’s
gotta
be about
your age, maybe even younger.” Greg started to count on his fingers.

“It’s not important.” It was definitely time to steer
the conversation away from
himself
. “What about you?
Are you here for the bride or groom?”

“Groom.
But I did sleep
with the bride.”

“All three of us slept with Tami?” asked Zev. “That’s a
pretty big coincidence.”

“Well, I don’t mean to show disrespect for the bride on
her wedding day,” said Greg, “but it’s not all
that
big of a
coincidence, if you know what I mean.”

The men all nodded.

“I want to hear more about the nanny thing,” said Zev.
“I bet she sure as hell didn’t have to fight to get you in bed by nine.”

Greg laughed. “Yeah, I have to say, I really got ripped
off in the babysitter allocation. If I was good, all I got was a Popsicle.”

“Maybe he
wasn’t
so good.”

“We were talking about leprechauns earlier,” said
Dermot, desperately trying to change the subject. “Have you ever tried to catch
one?”

“No, not recently,” said Zev.

“I know how. Want to try?”

“Now?” asked Greg.

“Sure. It’s not like this reception doesn’t suck.”

“I know I could use an extra pot o’ gold,” said Zev.

“We all could. Let’s go.”

* * * * *

“
Heeeeeeeeere
leprechaun!”
shouted Zev, as they trudged through the woods. “Here, leper, leper, leper!”

“Please shut up,” Dermot requested.

 
“I think I see
one,” said Greg. “Hand me the lantern! Oh, no,
wait,
it was just a couple of ogres and a troll.”

“Catching a leprechaun is serious business,” said
Dermot. “If we do see one, don’t grab it. He’ll just vanish. And he’ll do
everything he can to trick you, so don’t let yourself be fooled. Let me do the
talking.”

“Are we lost?” asked Zev. “I think we’re lost.”

“We’ve been walking for two minutes. You can still see
the lights from the party.”

“Oh. I’ve never been a big forest kind of guy. Give me a
good meadow any day.”

Dermot ignored the nerd and continued walking. Even
though the leprechaun hunt had been an elaborate method of changing the
subject, he had to admit that he was now genuinely excited to be out here. He
would never admit it to these idiots, but he truly did believe in leprechauns
and other such magic, and if only he could find…

“Does anybody know any good Irish songs?” asked Zev.

“‘When Irish Eyes Are Smiling,’
“ Greg
suggested.

“I don’t know that one.”

“Me either.”

Zev began to sing “Twist and Shout”.
Badly.

Dermot rolled his eyes. They were in Ireland, for God’s
sake. You were supposed to be able to hold your goddamn liquor.

They marched through the woods for a few more minutes,
Zev singing the entire time. Dermot was just about to bash him over the head
with the lantern, bury him in a shallow grave, and turn him into another Irish
myth when he heard a rustling from the trees.

“
Shhhh
!” he said.

Zev and Greg fell silent.

The three men stood there, listening.

Nothing.

 
“False alarm,”
Dermot said. Zev resumed his singing…and the rustling started again. Dermot
waved his hand for silence. As soon as Zev shut up, the rustling stopped.

Greg walked over to the source of the rustling and
peeked through the leaves and branches. “I can’t see if there’s anything in
there or not.”

“Sing some more,” Dermot told Zev.

Zev resumed his abysmal rendition of “Twist and Shout”.
Moments later, something burst out of the shrubs and danced in the path in
front of them.

A little green man, only three feet
tall.
Dressed entirely in green, with a red beard, a pipe, and a
hat.
He danced around in time with Zev’s singing.

“Keep singing!” Dermot ordered.

The leprechaun, if this truly was a leprechaun,
continued dancing around.

Dermot crept forward, waving for Greg to stay where he
was. The lawyer nodded and watched the leprechaun in amazement.

If the legends were true, and at this point there was no
damn reason to believe that they weren’t, he could capture the leprechaun by
holding his gaze. He kept moving closer and closer, watching the little green
man happily dance around, trying to catch his eye.

The leprechaun made eye contact.

Dermot didn’t look away.

The leprechaun stopped dancing and stared at him.

“I’ve got him!” said Dermot, forcing himself to hold the
leprechaun’s stare. “Everybody stay cool!” He took a few more steps forward and
crouched down, putting himself nearly nose-to-nose with the creature. “Are you
a leprechaun?” he asked.

The little green man laughed at him. “Well, of course
I’m a leprechaun! What did ye think I
was,
a unicorn?”

“Then I demand that you take us to your gold.”

The leprechaun looked pained.
“Me
gold?
Now, what would a fancy lad such as ye be
needin
’
with me gold?”

Dermot realized that the other two men were moving
closer, but didn’t dare break eye contact to tell them to scram. “You must take
us to your gold.”

The leprechaun nodded, sadly. “Aye, lad, I must.
Unless ye wish to strike a bargain.”