The problem with having something to say, of course, is the natural compunction to scream it from the rooftops, thus drowning out everyone else. 

Jack’s nerves had suddenly gained profound opinions, and screeched so loud their message was lost in a symphony of shifting sensation.

The sword swung almost in slow motion.

Leigh’s face held dawning realisation, eyes widening and jaw dropping, a scream beginning to escape her throat.

Oyster leapt forward, shoving at Jack’s sword arm.

The waiter collapsed away, dishes and trays scattering about him.

Oyster wouldn’t make it in time, and Jack no longer had control; he would split Leigh’s head like a watermelon.

Until he felt a pair of arms beneath his shoulders, and a grip tightening on his wrist.

The sword stopped.

Behind him, Hannah had him wrapped up with vampiric strength; before him, Lydia stood implacable, her gaze steely against his own frantic one.

He was completely immobile.

Wait.

Didn’t this make him the weakest of the group?

“Now’s not the time to be thinking about things like that!” cried Hannah, tone wavering.

Other patrons were muttering amongst themselves, many heading for the door.

Heat bloomed in his gut. “Don’t go reading other people’s introspection!”

“Yes,” said Lydia, “you are weak. The only thing you’re good at is setting up my jokes.”

“Is everyone doing it now?”

“But are you really so weak that you’d allow a mere cursed sword to get the better of you?”

Growling, he grit his teeth. She was right; he just had no idea how to wrest control of the thing.

You listen to me, you jumped-up piece of scrap metal! Before, you said I was your master; well, you’re right.

His arm wrestled against Lydia’s grip.

I am the master of this blade. Of this curse. Of you.

The blade shimmered and shivered, trying to drag him on. He felt a stab of anger, dropping red on his vision, but it wasn’t his.

So bloody well listen to me! I swing you, not the other way around—what kind of sword doesn’t understand that?

For a moment, it was as if time had stopped.

His murderous rage dimmed, and the corner of his lips turned up. Had he done it?

He hoped he hadn’t scared the two too much. Peering over, he wished for his concern back: Leigh leaned forward, stroking beneath Oyster’s chin.

“You know what the best thing is about you, Saul?” she said.

Chuckling, Oyster leaned in. “I haven’t a clue, but your resilience is very impressive.” He shot a glare at Jack.

Leigh smiled. “It’s your stupidity.”

Behind him, a blue shimmer erupted in the air.

Gurgling, Oyster clutched at the blade protruding from his chest, eyes wide and disbelieving as he stared into Leigh’s.

From the Gate emerged the masked spearman, weapon tight in his grip as he shoved it through the lizardman. Blood streamed and spurted from both sides when he yanked it out, flourishing and bringing it to a ready stance; silence invaded the room.

Then, someone screamed. It quickly ascended to a cacophony, a stampede of diners sprinting for the door.

They were blocked by a squad of Sidhe.

Jack paid them no heed; he couldn’t. Right before him, the woman known as Leigh was changing—she grew taller and wider, exuding a firm aura that promised power and mystery and fear.

Her hair turned red, flowing down past shoulders adorned by a fine silk blouse. A wide smile dimpled her cheeks, bright yet cold eyes regarding the three of them; plump lips were currently pursed.

Gaping, Jack stammered. That face was one he’d never be able to forget, one he’d thought he’d never see again. 

She was supposed to be dead.

He’d watched her float lifelessly into the cold expanse of space, incapable of saving her; the consequence of an impossible choice.

She definitely wasn’t with Mab. People didn’t usually team up with the one who’d tried to kill them.

It was like a nightmare masquerading as a miracle.

“You’re…” he said, breathless.

Lydia studied him with a wrinkled brow, and Hannah squeezed him before stepping aside and glaring at the woman.

The gesture filled him with warmth.

“You’ve still got that awful look in your eyes, Jack,” said not-Leigh, her chair scraping as she stood. Picking up a napkin, she wiped a speck of blood from her cheek. “Like you’re in some faraway place, fighting something the rest of us can’t see.”

With a wry smile, she continued, “I suppose y’are, though. Do you like my present, by the way?

A chasm opened in his gut. Reality had shifted: pieces he hadn’t thought fit together did, and ones he thought did suddenly didn’t.

“Lea… what’s going on?”

She stepped forward with a lop-sided smile, skirt flowing around her knees. “Say it properly, Jack. Go on.”

His insides quivering, he swallowed. “Leanandsidhe.”

Closing her eyes, she let out a contented moan. “I’m glad to see you haven’t changed much. Remember when we’d talk for hours, and you’d always get so excited by the idea of having a sword that could talk to you?”

He turned his gaze to the sword, aghast. It was rattling. “That was you?”

Lea threw her head back and laughed. “Of course it was me. I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist, and once I nudged Mr. Oyster in your direction, all I had to do was wait for you to create an opportunity. The guard was supposed to steal it bloodlessly, but…” She reached into Oyster’s breast pocket, withdrawing the USB stick. “I guess she still hates me, even with her memory erased.”

“Wait a minute.” He compared what he was feeling now to the previous instances. “You were the driver as well?”

She nodded. “A man reveals a lot of things to his driver.”

Thinking of the guard’s corpse, he shuddered. How had Lea managed to persuade him to switch sides?

And did that really justify his death?

Lydia let go of his wrist, snarling at the pair of Sidhe and raising her hand.

With a chuckle, Lea gave a wave of her own, and Lydia collapsed to her knees.

She screamed, writhing in agony as she clutched her head.

“That won’t work,” said Lea. “And trying was a very bad idea.”

Next to him, Hannah glanced between the two Sidhe, breath accelerating as she wrung her hands.

Lydia’s yells penetrated his skull. He brandished his sword, readying to swing at her neck. A cheer came from within, lightness rushing through his bones.

In an instant, the spearman was in front of him, blocking with the haft of his weapon.

Clang!

Supervised by Sidhe at the door, the customers cowered. A few creative individuals had aimed for the staff entrance by the bar.

“Nice try,” said Lea. “D’you really want to do things like that when everyone in this restaurant is my hostage?”

The narrow white door burst open, two lanky Sidhe figures rushing through it brandishing rapiers.

Five people had attempted to escape.

Within a second, all five lay twitching on the floor, blood pooling around them.

Jack flared, stepping back and clenching his jaw as his knuckles went white. “They had nothing to do with this!”

“They tried to escape.” She twisted her wrist, and Lydia’s howl rose in pitch from offensive to blood-curdling. “Can’t have them fetching somebody who’ll interrupt our little party.”

He put his hand on his mouth and shook his head. “What happened to you, Lea? You used to be so bright and optimistic, the original muse. The mother of creativity. What’s all this for? What do you need the Gates for?”

“What else?” she said, gesturing her goon back. “So I can destroy everything.”

His mind went blank.

“You see why I want to cut her now, yes?”

“Why?” he managed to say. “Destroy it? What happened to changing it?”

She flashed a bitter smile. “Reality caught up. No matter where you go, there’s always a boot on somebody’s neck. No matter what good you do, there’s always some bastard waiting round the corner to undo it. There’s only one thing I can do. I’ll burn this rotten universe until not a speck of dust remains.”

Glowering, he fought against every muscle and sinew telling him to charge her. He’d only end up hurting Lydia.

“What a fun little reunion,” said Lea, striding for the Gate. “I hope we can do it again sometime.”

The gate blinked away behind her and the spearman, and the other Sidhe left as quickly as they came. Staff and guests alike rubbernecked with consternation, a wave of relief rushing over the room when they realised they were free.

Most ran away, but a few remained, one enterprising fellow remembering he possessed a phone, and even knew the number for the emergency services.

Lydia hauled herself up, handing Jack a questioning gaze.

Hannah’s expression was the same.

He sighed, sheathing the sword. “I suppose I’ve got some explaining to do.”

***

After playing a maddeningly long game of twenty questions with an irate detective, they were released in the early hours, cool crisp air whistling amidst the crash of waves.

They walked along the promenade, Jack in the middle, on a wide concrete pathway set above the beach but below the city itself. 

“It’s really late,” said Hannah, scratching her chin. “Mum probably won’t be happy if I come home now.”

“You can stay with me,” said Lydia, her voice brittle. She tapped his arm. “You too. I imagine that was very traumatic.”

Knitting his brow, he scrutinised her. “Is that empathy I’m hearing? Did Lea’s attack modify your personality?”

She punched him in the kidney, and he smiled as pain thudded up his side.

“Tell us about her.” She glanced up at him.

Hannah grabbed his arm. “Yeah, you said you’d explain.”

With a deep breath, he said, “It all started round here, actually.One day, I came across a busker with the most beautiful voice I’d ever heard. It was almost like it changed something in me. We ended up being friends, made a lot of memories together. But she wasn’t just any old Sidhe.”

“What’s that mean?” said Hannah, furrowing her brow. 

“You read a lot, haven’t you ever heard of the Leanansidhe?”

Leaning back, she shook her head.

“I have,” said Lydia. “The Fae who entraps the hearts of men. Did she do it to you?”

He waved it off. “Those stories are exaggerated. The truth’s a lot worse: because of one choice, her own people have hunted her for centuries. Eventually, they found her, and she died. Or at least, I thought she did.”

“Evidently not,” said Lydia. She favoured him with an almost imperceptible smile. “But don’t worry; I’ll protect you.”

Hannah squeezed his arm. “Me too.”

He scoffed. “Thank you, but from what I saw, I don’t think you’ll be much use.”

Clenching her fist, fire burned in Lydia’s eyes. “That’s big talk for a man who was almost slave to a cursed sword.”

“Oh, yeah, and what’s with all this empathy bullshit? You sure you’re not just scared to be alone yourself?”

She blanched. “I deign, for once, to be benevolent, and this is how I’m repaid? Fuck you; you’re uninvited.”

“Uninviting me isn’t gonna make the humiliation go away.”

“To reiterate, fuck you!”

Hannah giggled. “In other words, we need to get stronger, right?”

“I can help with that: I already have a full ten-chapter training arc planned out.”

“We are not doing a training arc!” He glared down at his sword, nostrils flared.

The others stopped and stared at him for a second.

They laughed.