While Kate prepared for her last day of work, Brody walked outside into the misty morning air. He headed to the stone shed next to the vegetable garden to the rear of the cottage. The dogs had earlier ventured out to do their business, and had no desire to revisit the ugly weather, not even to follow their master.
After Brody removed his raincoat, he looked over the few blocks of granite that had initial chips and cuts set into them. He had only come out to make mental notes of the blocks and how he might progress with each before returning to see Kate off.
Rough but practiced hands slid over the abrasive contours of the heavy cut of stone. Brody closed his eyes as he searched only by feel for any natural seams or fissures. With concentration and focus, his fingertips found a line within a deeper cut which might threaten the granite's integrity further in.
Pressing along the seam, Brody felt a strange difference in the texture of his own finger tips. They felt as if they were somehow adopting the same density and strength as the stone. He pulled his hands away, shook them, and then studied his fingers closely. Under the rock dust, they appeared normal. That odd sensation of his hands gathering in density had happened in the past, but rarely, and he remembered each of those instances.
Brody returned to his inspection, concerned over how much of the 400 lb. stone he'd have to discard. His fingers glided back into the inset to inspect the seam again, but couldn't find it. In fact, that small area now felt smooth, as if buffed. With a pen light, he looked into the little crevasse. The troubling seam was gone; a thin line of polished stone replaced where it once was.
'What the hell?' he thought as he looked again. The smooth line was obvious, surrounded by rough stone, and looked as if his fingers sealed the seam and rubbed it to a shine.
Brody's puzzlement was suddenly interrupted by an unfamiliar voice behind him at the wide entry of the shed. "Hey there, Lynch, how's the Missus? Has she tried any more disappearing acts?"
Always reliably calm under normal circumstances, Brody's temper suddenly spiked upon seeing that little red-haired demon again, hovering ten feet away. He'd formerly been assured by a source now unreliable - Kate's fae grandfather - that Lorcan wouldn't trouble them again. The small, black-eyed monster had twisted the Wagner's already dark thoughts, and created a path of pain and murder. He personally attacked Kate… Terrified her; hurt her.
Not again. Brody didn't care who or what Lorcan was, man or child, now benign or still malevolent. The little demon would not have a second chance to cause misery and fear.
Seeing the big human's temper flash-boil, Lorcan put his hands up as he slowly retreated. The man looked ready to attack, and he didn't want to put the big idiot down before delivering his message. Maybe after, though. "Look, I'm not here to hurt you. I was sent here to tell -"
"You little bastard," Brody growled low. His hand instinctively gripped the stone, unaware that his fingers sunk into the granite as if it was stiff clay. With a grunt of rage, he swung his arm around in a wide arc and launched the block of stone at his target.
Surprised, Lorcan barely dodged the big rock with his inhuman speed. The massive block of granite sailed past him and out of the shed like a rocket, where it slammed deep into the lawn with a heavy thump. The little fae's black eyes goggled; no human, even one that man's size, should have had the power for such a feat. Not many fae did, either.
As Lynch charged after him, Lorcan hovered away backwards, not wanting to turn his back on the enraged human. And there was still a message to deliver to appease that sly bitch, Enochia. In order to create enough distance to deliver his message, he moved faster than Brody's hurried pursuit. With his new concern of the man's amazing strength, Lorcan didn't check behind him.
Less than a meter off the ground, he was in a fast retreat when his thighs hit the embedded block of granite. The impact jarred him, but momentum carried the little fae on, flipping him over the stone and onto his stomach.
Brody caught up to Lorcan just as the little fae had risen to his hands and knees. Growling through gritted teeth, Brody swung his foot as if attempting a long field goal. The large boot connected with Lorcan's skull and sent him flying.
Lorcan sailed across the lawn head-first, his small body trailing limply in tow. He landed hard, bounced, rolled, and came to rest closer to the cottage.
Brody barked profanities as he stormed across the lawn to finish the job.