he
precariously flew across the Irish Sea. This was a terrifying ordeal flying
over this much water with half his strength, but he focused on his innocent
Breena. Abigail might expect trouble but how could she possibly defend against bloodthirsty
trolls. He lowered in the sky, closer to the water. There was no strength to
stay high with the others. He pushed forward as the darkness began to gather
and hinder his sight.
It wasn’t long before they were at the
Aran Islands. The water dropped off and land was once again beneath him. Even
in the dark he could find her home. He aimed straight for it with his heart
ready to burst with anxiety. Should he have told her the truth from the
beginning? Should he have taken her with him?
The house was right there, sounds of
screeching and screaming blended with the sound of scattering night creatures. “Breena!”
he shouted her name as he neared. His heart beat wildly in his chest. His lungs
gasped for air; his sword was ready to tear apart those who threatened his
woman. He came to the front of the house and nearly fell to the ground at the
sight.
Breena swung the bottle of salt like a
sword, it rained on the creature that charged them baring its fangs. She used a
pan to knock it upside the head as it screech in agony. Salt would never be
just a seasoning again.
Gran was behind her, salting with equal vigor
and spurting Irish words so fast that even Breena didn’t understand. Together
they left a trail of screaming, dying trolls. That’s what they deserved. How
dare they attack their house. She felt empowered, amazingly strong as she
wacked another one in the head.
All that changed when one pulled a sword
from its hip and screeched as it ran toward Gran. It was sheer instinct as she
spun and stepped in front of Gran. She was ready to take the blow, tensed her
body and mind for the pain, but it never came. Her eyes squinted and the troll
had stopped mid-step, its eyes wide as it gaze behind her. She was almost afraid
to look.
Gran threw a full bottle of Irish whiskey
with a burning rag stuck through the narrow neck. The thing tried to dodge but
she had one hell of a good aim. Glass shattered; fire swarmed every flammable
surface on the troll as it fell back and charged out the window.
Nearly all the windows were shattered and
Breena flung more salt in a wide arc. Who said women couldn’t kick some ass?
She wanted to shout and then there was this strange noise. It was like a
thousand birds had suddenly flew into the sky at once. Now what?
She turned, facing Gran’s back as a man
came through the window. He slashed a sword and beheaded the nearest troll. She
was awestruck, stunned as his orange and brown wings spread. He was beautiful
and fierce at the same time. It was so hard to comprehend as she turned and
sprayed more salt.
The trolls seemed to be scared of the
winged man. The little bastards began to run away, scurrying like rats to flee
the house. Another winged man came through the window before her, and she
nearly pissed her jeans.
“Thame!” Her mouth dropped open. Giant,
golden wings protruded from his back, his long hair was pulled behind his head
and he handled a sword with deadly accuracy. A troll ran toward her and she
shoved the salt toward it before using the handy frying pan to bonk it on the
head.
“You know about trolls?” he shouted and
seemed stunned by the revelation.
“Yes!” She swung the pan, missed and pulled
back as it swiped a blade toward her. There was a wide arc that didn’t have a
chance of reaching her but she used the opportunity to spray salt at it. When the
creature screamed, she used the pan once more.
This time the handle snapped, and she was
stuck holding the handle. It did the trick. The troll was down, and nothing
else ran at her. She turned to Thame who killed the last troll and faced her.
His handsome face was knitted with concern. His wings displayed beautiful with
the night behind him. “Thame, what the fook are
precariously flew across the Irish Sea. This was a terrifying ordeal flying
over this much water with half his strength, but he focused on his innocent
Breena. Abigail might expect trouble but how could she possibly defend against bloodthirsty
trolls. He lowered in the sky, closer to the water. There was no strength to
stay high with the others. He pushed forward as the darkness began to gather
and hinder his sight.
It wasn’t long before they were at the
Aran Islands. The water dropped off and land was once again beneath him. Even
in the dark he could find her home. He aimed straight for it with his heart
ready to burst with anxiety. Should he have told her the truth from the
beginning? Should he have taken her with him?
The house was right there, sounds of
screeching and screaming blended with the sound of scattering night creatures. “Breena!”
he shouted her name as he neared. His heart beat wildly in his chest. His lungs
gasped for air; his sword was ready to tear apart those who threatened his
woman. He came to the front of the house and nearly fell to the ground at the
sight.
Breena swung the bottle of salt like a
sword, it rained on the creature that charged them baring its fangs. She used a
pan to knock it upside the head as it screech in agony. Salt would never be
just a seasoning again.
Gran was behind her, salting with equal vigor
and spurting Irish words so fast that even Breena didn’t understand. Together
they left a trail of screaming, dying trolls. That’s what they deserved. How
dare they attack their house. She felt empowered, amazingly strong as she
wacked another one in the head.
All that changed when one pulled a sword
from its hip and screeched as it ran toward Gran. It was sheer instinct as she
spun and stepped in front of Gran. She was ready to take the blow, tensed her
body and mind for the pain, but it never came. Her eyes squinted and the troll
had stopped mid-step, its eyes wide as it gaze behind her. She was almost afraid
to look.
Gran threw a full bottle of Irish whiskey
with a burning rag stuck through the narrow neck. The thing tried to dodge but
she had one hell of a good aim. Glass shattered; fire swarmed every flammable
surface on the troll as it fell back and charged out the window.
Nearly all the windows were shattered and
Breena flung more salt in a wide arc. Who said women couldn’t kick some ass?
She wanted to shout and then there was this strange noise. It was like a
thousand birds had suddenly flew into the sky at once. Now what?
She turned, facing Gran’s back as a man
came through the window. He slashed a sword and beheaded the nearest troll. She
was awestruck, stunned as his orange and brown wings spread. He was beautiful
and fierce at the same time. It was so hard to comprehend as she turned and
sprayed more salt.
The trolls seemed to be scared of the
winged man. The little bastards began to run away, scurrying like rats to flee
the house. Another winged man came through the window before her, and she
nearly pissed her jeans.
“Thame!” Her mouth dropped open. Giant,
golden wings protruded from his back, his long hair was pulled behind his head
and he handled a sword with deadly accuracy. A troll ran toward her and she
shoved the salt toward it before using the handy frying pan to bonk it on the
head.
“You know about trolls?” he shouted and
seemed stunned by the revelation.
“Yes!” She swung the pan, missed and pulled
back as it swiped a blade toward her. There was a wide arc that didn’t have a
chance of reaching her but she used the opportunity to spray salt at it. When the
creature screamed, she used the pan once more.
This time the handle snapped, and she was
stuck holding the handle. It did the trick. The troll was down, and nothing
else ran at her. She turned to Thame who killed the last troll and faced her.
His handsome face was knitted with concern. His wings displayed beautiful with
the night behind him. “Thame, what the fook are
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