Spinning Tales by Brey Willows

Author:Brey Willows [Willows, Brey]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781635553154
Publisher: Bold Strokes Books
Published: 2019-02-09T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eighteen

Maggie shivered against the cold she could feel even through her jacket. Her shoulder had grown stiff and swollen in the night, and Kody not only refused to let her carry her own bag, but also insisted on a makeshift sling. Though Maggie had very nearly argued, that connection thing they were doing meant she felt Kody’s guilt, so she gave in if only to let Kody feel like she was doing something to help an injury she wasn’t responsible for in the first place. But those words would fall on deaf ears.

She yawned, her breath puffing in the chill air. Kody walked ahead, and behind her Shamus and Brenda walked side by side. She could hear Shamus filling Brenda in on all that had happened in the night and what Mal had said. Brenda’s exclamations and laughter made Maggie smile.

“I would love to have seen you covered in mud, Maggie. I’m sorry, but I think I would have wet my knickers through.” Brenda tugged on the back of Maggie’s shirt.

“Yeah, well, I’m still finding it in places I’d rather not have dirt.” She looked over her shoulder at Brenda. “But I’m actually glad you weren’t there. To be honest, if someone is willing to go to that length to take me out, I’m not sure it’s safe for you to be around.” She jumped when Brenda pinched her butt.

“Don’t even say things like that!” Brenda’s tone was unusually serious. “It’s when you’re in trouble that you need your friends most. And we’re around to protect you from the maggot farts, anyway.”

Maggie laughed. “Yeah, well, let’s hope there won’t be a lot of protecting to be done.”

“Are we still heading to the Key Keepers, Kody?” Shamus called from behind.

She hitched the bags higher over her shoulders. “I think it’s a good stopping place. We’ll drop the bags and freshen up, and then we’ll head into the market.” She looked over her shoulder at Maggie. “I don’t suppose you’ve had any thoughts as to what we’re looking for?”

Maggie blew into her closed hand, trying to warm it. The other she’d tucked into the sling. “Not a thing. I’m guessing I’ll know when I’m there.”

For the next hour the only sound was Brenda’s monologue about her time with the Fir Bolg, and when she started talking about their men’s anatomy, Maggie zoned out. Fog swirled around the cliff edges, veiling the water and lightly undulating landscape around them. Low, crumbling stone walls lined their route, broken occasionally by a lonely little cottage or larger farmhouse. But it was eerily silent. No one appeared at the windows of the houses, no one passed them on the path. When they came to Doolin, Maggie’s shoulders ached from holding them so tightly, so sure was she an attack was imminent.

Gus O’Connor’s was a squat stone pub with a thick black sign and bright gold lettering. It overlooked a pretty little creek and rolling hills covered in newly bloomed yellow flowers. Heavy double doors seemed to be the main entrance, but a regular looking door not two feet away also said entrance.

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