Raquel, her dark eyes fixed on Pacifica, reached out and gently stroked her hair.
“Don’t worry,” she said softly. “Shannon’s not going anywhere.”
Pacifica sat in silence, unsure of what to say. Her gaze fell to a corner of the table.
“I know… it’s just…”
“And I won’t leave you, either. Something stronger than blood is tying us to you.” Raquel let one long finger trail down Pacifica’s cheek. “So don’t worry, all right? We’re here because we want to be.”
Pacifica felt her cheeks blush. Keeping her eyes down, she nodded slightly.
Maybe that’s what people call presence, Winia thought, staring at the boy.
“Hello there,” he said.
Despite his cold beauty, Winia tried to remain calm. How old was he? Fifteen? At that age, people were supposed to have a certain degree of innocence… but the boy seemed to have none whatsoever.
“Yes?” Winia asked uncomfortably.
He took another step toward her, closing the gap between them. They were on a sidewalk being passed by hurried townspeople eager to eat their dinners, but Winia still felt alone and cornered as he came near. He was keenly out of place in the bustling Taurus street.
“You know Shannon Casull, right?”
Winia stiffened. Even if her life had nothing to do with Pacifica’s fate, she could still see what was going on. “N-no,” she mumbled, her heart suddenly racing in her chest. “Shannon who?”
He smiled coldly. “I don’t believe you.”
Winia quickly turned to go, but the boy’s hand shot out and gripped her shoulder. He dug his fingers in so hard she was afraid she’d bleed.
“Help!” she cried. “Somebody, help me!”
“Winia?”
Winia thanked whatever greater power was out there. Falk, the town’s strapping young blacksmith, happened to be right down the street. He quickly strode up and stared disapprovingly at Chris.
“What’s the matter?” Falk asked Winia. “Is he bothering you?”
Falk was a full head taller than Winia, and probably twice her girth. He was an impressive presence beside the slim boy who gripped Winia.
Winia nodded quickly, tears in her eyes. Falk glared down at the boy.
“I don’t know who you are, kid, but you’d better let her go.”
The boy smiled. “I’d stay out of this if I were you,” he said before whipping his free hand. His fist met Falk’s body.
“Uhmpf!”
Letting out a surprised grunt, the blacksmith was lifted off the ground, then crashed onto the sidewalk several steps back from where he’d been standing.
Murmuring filled the evening air. A crowd started to form around the boy, and confused townspeople had to peek over each other to catch a look.
“Did you see that?”
“That kid just punched Falk!”
“Is he from around here?”
With a grimace, Falk pushed himself to his feet.
The boy raised an eyebrow. “You’re pretty tough for an amateur,” he said.
Falk spat blood, then smiled without humor. “My boss has been hitting me for years. I guess it was good for something.”
Falk raised both arms in front of his chest in what looked like a self-taught fighting pose.
“I wasn’t kidding,” the boy said, a touch of warning behind his calm voice. “Stay out of this.”
“I don’t like how you talk to adults, kid.”
“And I don’t like how to talk to professionals, amateur.”
Falk lunged at the boy to restrain him, but the boy quickly shifted.
Thud!
Falk choked, his arms shaking. Winia noticed the end of a pole sticking out from the boy’s gray jacket.
The boy jerked his arm. The pole that was digging into Falk’s stomach swung back just as its extensions swung up and clicked into place. Falk fell onto his knees, now within range of a battleaxe as tall as his lithe attacker.
“Sleep tight,” the boy said as he lowered the axe into the back of Falk’s head. Falk crumpled to the sidewalk in a large, silent heap.
Winia screamed. A few members of the crowd did the same, although more of them stepped back in fear.
The boy turned back to Winia, paying no mind to the collective panic. Winia was terrified to find out that not only was the boy not out of breath, but he’d never let go of her shoulder throughout the melee.
“Sorry,” he said with a small, almost apologetic smile. “But it looks like you’ve been assigned to be bait, sister.”
Sensing someone approaching, Shannon looked up. He sent a meaningful glance at Raquel.
“Who is that?” he asked.
Raquel looked up from the apple she peeled. “Hm? Oh.” She closed her eyes, assumedly checking her mental Asgard data screen. “Let me see…”
Shannon picked up his sword. After sensing something during his evening shopping trip, he’d asked Raquel to deploy an Asgard sensor spell. He again realized how lucky he was to have a sister with such an impressive mental capacity.
“Subject isn’t carrying any metal that could be a weapon. At that height, weight, and stride… it’s probably Mister Colt from the Wild Horse Inn.” She opened her eyes again and looked to Shannon. “Hm.”
A few moments later, there was a knock at the door. Pacifica abruptly lifted her head from the table on which it rested.
“Is that Winia?” she asked excitedly.
“No.”
Pacifica scowled. “Man,” she growled, resting her head once more. “I’m starving.”
Shannon walked past Pacifica and refrained from making a comment. When he reached for the door, it was suddenly pulled open from outside.
“Shannon!”
The short middle-aged, but presumably healthy, Safir Colt stood on the doorstep out of breath and glistening with sweat.
Shannon tightened his grip on his sheathed sword. “Is something wrong?” he asked.
Safir nodded, panting hard. Raquel and Pacifica ran to join their brother at the door.
“W-Winia!” Safir managed. “You have to save… Winia!”
“Winia?!” Pacifica exclaimed. She gripped Raquel’s arm. “What happened to Winia?!”
Safir shook his head and swallowed. “She was kidnapped by some boy no one recognizes!” He looked up at Shannon with panicked eyes. “He knocked out the blacksmith and then ran away with Winia!”
Shannon froze. “Boy?” he repeated.