The banshee appeared high above the ruins, provoking gasps from those below. No longer a tearful young woman or a weeping matron, she now manifested as a spectral, white-haired crone clad in a tattered gray shroud. Grief contorted her wizened countenance, while her ceaseless keening echoed across the landscape. A bony finger pointed accusingly at Grady.
“You want him?” Max let go of Grady’s leash and shoved the leprechaun away from him, clearly vexed by the interruption. “He’s all yours.”
“It’s not that simple.” Jenkins winced as he rose slowly to his feet. Immortal though he was, being tossed through a stone wall by a super-strong revenant was enough to take the wind out of anybody’s sails. He felt as though he’d been unhorsed by a lance during a particularly hard-fought joust back when knighthood was in flower. “No doubt the banshee has come for the Cauldron as well.”
Max blanched at the prospect of losing the Pot. “Never! The Pot is mine, I tell you. Mine!”
He opened fire at the soaring wraith, but his shots had little effect on the banshee, who simply dematerialized each time she was shot, only to reappear a heartbeat later. She misted in and out of visibility, barely missing a note in her keening, much to Max’s distress.
“Begone, you bloody hag! You’ll not take the Cauldron from me!”
“Don’t think she’s listening to you, mate,” Ezekiel jeered from the sidelines, where he was still being restrained by Max’s underlings. “Tough luck.”
In the commotion, Jenkins remained focused on the object of the quest. Sibella stood between him and the Cauldron, but Baird had a clear path to the prize now that Sibella had cast her aside.
“Colonel!” he shouted urgently. “The Cauldron!”
Scrambling to her feet, Baird dashed back toward the frothing relic. “On it!”
“Owens!” Max called out in response. “Secure the Pot!”
The muscle-bound lackey charged toward the Cauldron, but Baird got there first. Seeing Owens lunging for her, she kicked over the Pot, spilling its fuming contents in the thug’s direction. The noxious flood washed Owens off his feet, causing him to tumble backward onto the rocky soil. He sputtered furiously as the foul brew drenched him, even as Baird seized the now-empty Cauldron.
“I’ll take this, if you don’t mind.”
Baird’s capture of the Pot did not go unnoticed by Sibella. Abruptly remembering what truly mattered, she discarded the crumpled Bell and hurried back toward Baird, leaving Jenkins behind.
“Unhand the Cauldron!” Sibella demanded.
“Or what? You won’t play nice this time?” Baird took off across the ruins, carrying the Pot. “Come and get it, witch!”
* * *
Things started happening very fast.
With all eyes on the banshee and the ensuing chaos, Stone saw his chance to take out the goons restraining him and the other Librarians. Moving quickly, he rammed the back of his head into the face of the thug behind him, causing the man to stagger backward, clutching his nose. Stone wheeled about to deliver a hard left hook to the man’s jaw, followed by a knockout blow to his chin that left the stunned henchman flat on his back. Fists clenched and ready, Stone wasn’t going to waste time dancing with Max’s flunkies.
One down, he thought. Who’s next?
The guards holding Cassandra and Ezekiel barely had time to register what was happening. Combining kung fu with his best bare-knuckle bar-fight moves, Stone laid into the surprised henchmen like an Oklahoma tornado, all whirling limbs and sudden impacts. Moving quickly, never staying still for a moment, he took on both men at once, kicking one while punching the other, and then the other way around. Max’s men didn’t know what had hit them; they were tough guys, to be sure, but Stone had fought ninjas and come out on top.
You messed with the wrong Librarian, he thought.
The other Librarians broke free from their besieged captors. Ezekiel and Cassandra scurried away from the fracas, then looked back to see if Stone needed any reinforcements.
As if, he thought.
“Don’t worry about me!” he hollered. “I can handle these bruisers.” With Baird busy keeping the Cauldron away from Sibella, Stone shouted out instructions to his teammates. “Ezekiel, help Grady!”
“Way ahead of you, mate!”
Keeping his head down, the thief raced across the graveyard toward the bound and powerless leprechaun. Stone trusted Ezekiel to see to Grady’s safety while he finished off Max’s goons.
“Cassandra…”
“Sorry,” she blurted, bolting from the scene. “I’ll be right back!”
Huh? In between trading blows, Stone watched in confusion as Cassandra sprinted toward the waiting gateway back to the Annex. For a fraction of an instant, he feared that she was deserting them, but swiftly rejected that notion. Cassandra was a Librarian; she knew what she was doing, even if Stone couldn’t guess what she had in mind.
And he was too busy fighting to give it much thought.
“Where were we again?”
A palm-elbow-knee haymaker combo left Stone the last man standing. So much for the hired muscle, he thought. His eyes zeroed in on Max, who was still shooting at the flying banshee, and he cracked his knuckles.
“Your turn, dude,” he muttered. “Just like I promised.”
* * *
“Saints preserve me!” Grady moaned. “’Tis doomed I am!”
The leprechaun cowered on the ground, shrinking from Max, Sibella, and the banshee. Silver handcuffs trapped him in his true guise, while depriving him of his magic. Racing toward the pint-sized sprite, who looked as though he’d stepped right off a Saint Paddy’s Day greeting card, Ezekiel still found it hard to wrap his head around the fact that the leprechaun and Grady were one and the same.
“No worries, mate!” Ezekiel dropped to his knees so that he was more or less eye level with the shackled leprechaun. “We’ll get you out of those shiny bracelets in a jiffy.”
Plucking one of his favorite picks from his back pocket, Ezekiel got to work on the handcuffs, which, to his slight disappointment, posed no challenge whatsoever. As it turned out, the only thing remarkable about the cuffs was that they were made of silver; the locking mechanism itself was boringly standard-issue, requiring only a few deft motions to circumvent. First one cuff, then the other clicked open, releasing Grady’s wrists.
“See?” Ezekiel pocketed the pricey restraints. “Child’s play.”
“Ye’re a wizard at locks, so ye are!” Grady rubbed his chafed wrists to restore their circulation. “A thousand thanks to ye!”
“Hold that thought.” Ezekiel wondered how much gold a leprechaun’s gratitude might be worth, but decided that would have to wait until after he’d saved the world in his usual inimitable fashion. “In the meantime, we could use your help to—”
Grady vanished from sight before Ezekiel could even finish his sentence. The Librarian sighed and shook his head in exasperation, even as he realized that he really should have seen this coming. The leprechaun had flown the coop again.
“Figures!”
* * *
Cassandra ran for the stone archway, hoping that Jenkins had left the Door open so that they wouldn’t end up stranded in Ireland. She hated to leave the others behind, but between the Serpent Brotherhood, the indestructible Sibella, and the banshee, they were going to need every advantage they could get. Fortunately, she knew just where to look.…
White light flashed in the gateway as she left the Emerald Isle behind.
* * *
“Leave us alone, you blasted wraith!”
Max’s polished hauteur unraveled as his triumph dissolved into chaos. He emptied his gun at the banshee, then paused to reload. Stone had the distraught Serpent in his sights as he rushed across the ruins, darting from one crumbling monument to another on his way toward his armed adversary. Max had already gotten away from Stone twice; the angry Librarian wasn’t about to let the murderous schemer hurt anyone else.
“Give it up, Max!” Stone said. “You’re in over your head here … and the sidhe is hitting the fan!”
“Never!” Max swung his gun back and forth wildly, uncertain who to target. He fired at Stone, who sought cover behind a sturdy stone cross. “I will restore the Serpent Brotherhood to greatness. I will succeed where Wilde and Dulaque failed!”
Bullets chipped away at the ancient monument shielding Stone.
“Don’t kid yourself, Max,” Stone retorted. “I knew Dulaque, I fought Dulaque, and, dude, you are no Dulaque!”
“We’ll see about that.” Max shifted position to try to get a clean shot at Stone. “Did Dulaque ever blow your head off, you impertinent cowboy?”
Stone moved to keep the bullet-ridden cross between them. If nothing else, he was drawing Max’s fire away from his friends, but it was only a matter of time before Max got the drop on him again unless Stone caught a lucky break. Where was that four-leaf clover now that he needed it?
“Max?”
A plaintive voice came from an unexpected source. Stone blinked in surprise as, impossibly, Coral approached Max from behind, despite having died several minutes ago. A hasty glance revealed that her body was no longer lying where it had fallen. Hurt and betrayal filled her face and voice.
“Why, Max? How could you do this to me? I trusted you!”
“Coral?” Max wheeled about to confront his victim. “I don’t understand. You’re gone. I killed you.…”
“Why, Max? Why?”
Stone didn’t understand either, but he wasn’t about to look a gift ghost in the mouth. Snatching a fist-sized rock from the scattered debris, he flung it at Max, zonking him squarely in the back of the head. Max staggered forward, his gun arm sagging, as Stone tackled him from behind, knocking him to the ground. Pinning Max down with his knees, Stone slammed the dazed Serpent’s wrist against the stony earth until he let go of the gun. He jabbed a key pressure point to render Max unconscious.
“Say good night, Max.”
Max went limp. Satisfied that the mastermind was down for the count, Stone rose to his feet to face Coral, whose anguished expression gave way to a mischievous grin. The “ghost” shimmered like a mirage before transforming into … a miniature figure clad in green?
“Grady?”
“None other,” the leprechaun replied. “Ye didn’t truly think I’d abandoned youse all, did ye?”
“Well…”
“Fair enough,” Grady conceded. “’Twas a time when I would’ve made meself scarce if the opportunity arose, but no more. I’ve let you Librarians fight me battles for too long.”
“Good thing,” Stone said. “’Cause this battle ain’t over yet.”
* * *
Baird held on tightly to the Cauldron as she scrambled across the ruins, anxious to keep the relic away from Sibella and the other Serpents. She darted in and around the crumbling remains of abandoned buildings and monuments, hurdling over scattered heaps of rubble as though running an obstacle course, but without any clear destination in mind. The last thing she wanted to do was lead Sibella back to the Annex.
You’re not getting anywhere near the Library, Baird thought, or this damn Pot.
But Sibella was not the only supernatural being in pursuit of the Cauldron. Still wailing at the top of her lungs, the banshee swooped down from the sky, chasing after Baird. Her withered arms stretched out before her, reaching for the Pot. Glancing back over her shoulder, while trying not to run headlong into some random heap of debris, Baird saw the banshee gaining on her. The wraith’s ear-piercing shriek sounded like the screeching horn of a semitruck bearing down on her. Baird could practically feel the banshee’s icy fingers grabbing onto her shoulders any second now.
“Leave her, crone! That Guardian—and the Cauldron—are mine!”
Sibella pounced on the low-flying banshee, attempting to sink her venomous fangs into the spirit’s neck, but the banshee vanished before she could bite her, so that Sibella hit the ground instead, skidding to a halt after sliding across a stretch of rocks and grass. Frustrated, she sprang to her feet in order to keep after Baird, who suddenly found herself much more popular than she would have preferred.
Seriously? I’ve got both Sibella and the banshee hot on my heels?
Baird allowed herself to hope that her pursuers would keep getting in each other’s way, but knew that wasn’t a long-term solution. Her heart sank as the banshee abruptly rematerialized in her path, even as Sibella closed in on her once more. Ruined walls and derelict structures hemmed Baird in, trapping her between the vengeful Serpent and the implacable wraith. She had nowhere to run, which left her with only one choice.
“Yo, Celtic Woman!” she shouted. “The Pot’s all yours, courtesy of the Library!”
She lobbed the Cauldron over to the banshee, who caught it greedily. A flicker of a smile crossed her wrinkled face as she halted her incessant wailing, if only for the moment. She clutched the Pot to her bosom.
“No!” Sibella froze in dismay. Consternation marred her exquisite features. “You fool!” she screamed at Baird. “What have you done?”
“Better her than the Brotherhood,” Baird said, convinced she had made the right decision. “As I understand it, she’s just trying to reclaim some stolen property. I can respect that.”
Keening once more, the banshee rose into the sky, taking the Cauldron with her. She dissolved into thin air, but her strident wail lingered behind her, only gradually fading away … to be supplanted by the sound of pounding hooves coming from somewhere deep beneath the earth:
Clop, clop, clop, clop …
“What the heck?’ Baird said. “Please tell me I’m not the only one hearing that!”
“Would that were so!” Grady’s ruddy complexion paled. “’Tis the Coiste Bodhar … the death-coach! Summoned by the banshee to carry out the curse upon me!”
Tremors shook the ground beneath Baird’s feet, threatening her balance. Serpents and Librarians alike backed away from the ominous clippity-clopping, which grew louder and closer by the moment.
“Great,” Baird muttered. “We’ve got another party-crasher!”