Chicago
“Slainte!”
The Librarians toasted their victory (and continued survival) with foaming pints of green beer, left over from Saint Patrick’s Day. Bridget, Brigid, and Grady were also on hand to join in the celebration. The Pot O’ Gold was closed for the night, which meant that Stone and the rest had the pub to themselves. Sipping his beer, Stone surveyed the scene from a stool at the bar with a sense of deep and abiding satisfaction. After the damp desolation of the ruined monastery, the cozy pub, along with the good company, was just what he needed.
And he was pretty sure the others felt the same way.
“So we’ve worked it all out,” Bridget said, her arm around her twin. “Brigid and I have decided to switch places. She’s eager to explore the mortal world, after being cooped up in Otherworld for centuries, while I can’t wait to see Mill Ends with my own eyes, especially now that I know that I’m part leprechaun, no less.”
“So ye are,” Grady assured her. Since he was among friends, the leprechaun had dispensed with his mortal guise. He perched atop a barstool, the better to be at eye level with everyone else. “And the Fair Folk will be happy to welcome ye back into the fold.”
“Are you sure about this?” Baird asked, enjoying a pint by the fireplace, across from Cassandra and Ezekiel. “It’s a pretty big switch … for both of you.”
“Och,” Brigid said. “’Tis a fine adventure it will be, and fitting, too. I was born to live a mortal life, so I was, and it’s high time I get on with it.” She was practically glowing in anticipation. “What’s more, I hear tell that this brave new world holds many an exotic marvel I’m yearning to discover for meself, including something called … bubble tea?”
“And pizza,” Ezekiel said. “You got to check out pizza.”
“Ooh.” Brigid’s eyes widened. “Tell me more.…”
Stone considered the other Bridget. “What about your heart?” he asked her. “Are you going to be okay in leprechaun land, considering?”
“Don’t ye be worrying about that, Jake Stone,” Grady said. “Time and mortal ailments cannot touch her where she’s going. Years will pass like days, granting her a long and merry life.”
“That’s part of it,” Bridget admitted. “But I’m also excited about finding out what it really means to be descended from an honest-to-goodness changeling. I grew up in and around this pub, hearing all the old stories and legends and wishing they were real. Can you imagine what it feels like to find out that the magic of old Ireland is literally in my blood … and waiting for me?”
“You want to explore your roots, without your illness hanging over you,” Cassandra said. “I totally get that.”
“I’m sold, too,” Stone said. “You’re both going back where you belong, just like the Cauldron.” He raised his glass. “To fond farewells and new beginnings!”
The Annex
A short time later
Saint Patrick’s bell was in less than mint condition.
“Oh dear.” Jenkins examined the crumpled hunk of iron, which now looked like nothing more than a fist-sized piece of scrap metal. Glancing over from her desk, Baird could actually see where Sibella’s super-strong fingers had dug into the metal.
“Can you fix it?” she asked.
“It may be salvageable,” the caretaker said, sighing heavily. “Although a proper restoration will be neither quick nor easy.”
“Good thing you’ve got plenty of time then,” Ezekiel quipped. He and the other Librarians were taking it easy after their Irish adventure. “What with being immortal and all.”
“There is that,” Jenkins conceded. “In any event, it was a small price to pay to keep the Cauldron out of the hands of the Serpent Brotherhood.”
“So what’s the story with Max?” Stone asked, looking up from a hefty volume on Toltec burial chambers. “The local leprechauns happy to have him under lock and key?”
“I have been in touch with Connall MacDonagh at Mill Ends,” Jenkins reported as he put aside the crushed bell for the moment. “He assures me that the odious Mister Lambton will indeed face justice for his crimes against the Fair Folk, as committed both here and overseas. I don’t imagine that he will be troubling us—or anyone else—again.”
“Glad to hear it.” Baird always liked knowing that a dangerous character had been taken out of circulation for good. “Guess the Serpents are headless again, at least for the time being.”
“Can we not mention headless things?” Cassandra asked. She shivered as she amused herself with a particularly devious sudoku. “That coachman was way too creepy for comfort.”
Baird was about to point out that Lady Sibella was the stuff of nightmares as well when the back door of the Annex swung open and, soaking wet, Flynn Carsen sloshed in through a curtain of white light. Seaweed clung to his head and shoulders as he dripped onto the floor. He peeled a stray strand off his lapel even as Jenkins frowned at the puddle forming beneath him.
“So,” Flynn asked, “what did I miss?”