Lizzie.” He hung up and let out a chain of expletives.
Could the bastard be taunting him, choosing a victim so close to his home base?
He shoved his toiletries and change of clothes in his travel bag and headed out the door. He would have liked to spend a little more time at the Key Largo scene, but he’d have to rely on his notes.
It was more important to hit this new scene while it was fresh. And it was an hour’s drive to the airport—he barely had time to make his flight.
∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞
Quinlan frowned at the glint in Scarlett’s eye as she strode purposefully toward the training center. He’d seen that look before, and it usually meant he and the boys’d be in for a rash of bruises before the day was done.
“Hiya, Letty. I thought ya were off today.”
“I am,” she replied with a thin smile. “But that’s no reason to let you gobshites get soft in the sparring ring.”
“Uh oh, we’re in trouble now,” her cousin Thom sniggered, earning a laugh from a few of the younger trainees who were visiting from a nearby village.
She arched a brow at him. “You’re first then.”
Thom’s eyes widened, and then he shook his head in defeat, sending his boyish blonde curls bouncing. “Have it your way cousin. But take it easy on me, will ya? Ya know I was only codding ya.”
Scarlett flashed him a grin. “Don’t worry Tommy Boy. I’ll stay away from your delicate parts this time.”
“All o’ Thom’s parts are delicate,” razzed Aedan, a grizzled old warrior who’d fought with her father in the last Unseelie uprising.
She’d only been a baby at the time, but Pat’s father had been killed in that battle.
Aedan chuckled at the younger man’s scowl. “Don’ worry, Thom. Letty’ll toughen ya up. Spend enough time sparrin’ wit her an’ yer calluses’ll have calluses.”
“Aye. That’s what I’m afraid of,” Thom muttered as he made his way toward the middle of the ring.
The training center was a large, open air arena at the heart of the village. Circled by colorful local shops, it was a daily hub of activity for the residents.
Earth magic kept its grassy carpet verdant and thick, which served to soften a fall as well as any sparring mat. And though it lacked a roof, it was spelled against the elements so that classes and matches could be held in comfort during summer rains and winter snows.
Five fighting rings were clustered at its center, and Scarlett always went for the one in the middle. When fists and weapons were flying in all five rings, she loved to be at the core of all that energy, pretending she was in the midst of a great battle.
“What’s your poison, Thom?” she asked as she strode to the nearest rack of sickles, knives, axes and other assorted weaponry. “Swords?” She trailed her fingers over the hilt of a dull edged practice blade.
Thom scoffed. “Against you? Not bleedin’ likely.”
Their cousin Quinlan laughed, and Scarlett hid a smile. Only the most seasoned warriors would spar swords with her and the entire village knew it.
Every sidhe learned to summon their own soul bound long sword as part of their passage into adulthood. When she’d gotten hers, she’d honed her technique to a razor’s edge. It was her personal guarantee that she’d be able to defend herself whenever she needed to.
“The shillelagh, then?” she asked, half teasing, and Thom groaned. The last time they’d practiced stick fighting his dangly bits had gotten a wee bruised. It wasn’t intentional, but nor was it something he was likely to forget.
“Can’t we just have an old-fashioned hand to hand match?” he pleaded, his eyes flickering toward the group of visiting trainees. A pretty lass, about his age, was watching their proceedings with interest.
“Fine then,” Scarlett agreed on a laugh as she abandoned the weapons rack and joined him in the center of the ring.
She eyed him critically as they circled each other. “Your defensive form has improved,” she complimented in a quiet tone.
Pleasure flashed across Thom’s face and she smiled. He matched her in height, but she was lean and lithe compared to his awkward mix of youthful softness and burgeoning muscle.
He struck out with a quick jab, which she easily ducked. “Good speed,” she encouraged, “but don’t drop your guard,” she added as she snapped a hook at his exposed cheek. She purposely didn’t make contact, but it was enough to startle him and make him pay attention.
She went round with him until he was winded, giving him a few thumps and allowing him to make a show of coming close to hitting her. Finally she took advantage of his waning concentration and swept his leg, maneuvering him into a wrist lock as he stumbled.
Should have led with that move on Agent Derrington last night, she thought with a smirk as Thom submitted to the threat of a broken wrist. Might have saved me some sore ribs.
“It was a fine match,” she said, patting Thom on the back as he rose.
He gave her a good natured grin despite his bruises and rejoined his friends, who were gazing at her with newfound respect. The pretty young girl leaned in and said something to him, and the other visiting trainees nodded in excitement.
“Uh, Cousin Letty,” he began, looking torn between wanting to please the girl and not wanting to provoke Scarlett, “they want to see ya fight the swords. With one of the older warriors,” he added quickly.
Scarlett laughed, resisting the urge to tease him again in front of his friends. “Come join me with a sword, Quin,” she called, tipping her chin in a beckoning motion.
She felt limber and warmed up after sparring with Thom, and she wanted to keep going. Physical distraction was exactly what she needed today.
“Why is it always me ya choose to show up in front of an audience?” Quinlan jibed as he strode over to the weapons rack and grabbed a couple of practice blades. His meaty, tattooed fists tested them for heft and balance, and then he tossed one to Scarlett.
“You know it’s only because I love you, cousin,” she replied, snatching the blade deftly out of the air. “And perhaps you’ll beat me this time.”
Quin snorted and shook his shaggy orange head. “Perhaps with an axe. But with a sword? That hasn’t happened in nigh over a hundred years.”
“Maybe your skill has surpassed mine since last we tested it,” Scarlett replied with a shrug.
“Remember that, lads an’ lasses,” Aedan called to their young audience from an adjacent sparring ring. “A wise warrior envisions victory without allowin’ overconfidence ta cloud her judgment.” The aged veteran winked at Scarlett as he deflected a swing from his opponent’s sickle.
She grinned at him as she adjusted her grip on her practice blade and settled into a relaxed stance a sword’s length from Quin.
