I simply boiled over. My mind shut down and, like a rabid dog, I strode towards the Bremors’ table. On the way I accidentally collided with some fellow; he took offence and tried to demand something, but I answered him with a punch to the jaw, and he toppled onto a neighbouring table. The noise drew the attention of my clanmates; the girls at their table began to turn, Simon sprang to his feet and prepared for a fight, not yet knowing whom he ought to strike with lightning — me or Bryan, who was hastily making obscure passes with his hands.

  A cloud of concentrated mist magic flew in my direction, meant to spill around my figure. The mist encircled the Bremors’ table, concentrating in the girls’ eyes. Bryan hurriedly rose, shoved a bewildered Simon aside and stepped towards me with a smile.

  “Who do I see!” he greeted me cheerfully.

  I reinforced my fist with stone flesh and smashed the insolent bastard in the teeth. Bryan collapsed onto his backside, losing control of all his illusions at once. The girls shrieked, leapt up and fled. But the scrawny, boyish chick McLilly had been pawing froze beside a neighbouring table and stared avidly at what was happening.

  Lying on the floor, Bryan stretched out his right hand in a defensive gesture, spat out his front teeth and lisped:

  “Dunfkan, lef’s fafk!”

  I bent over him decisively, seized his collar with my left hand and drew back my right with every intention of turning that face into minced meat. Then McLilly thrust an open palm towards my face and formed upon it a familiar cloud of mist which, in the blink of an eye, turned into a roaring torrent of illusory flame.

  The patrons screamed in terror, the musicians stopped playing. To them it all looked real. Even Kettle was taken in and fired a bolt of lightning at Bryan at the very moment my fist broke McLilly’s nose. The discharge jolted us so violently that we flew apart. It took me a moment to come to my senses, after which I meant to continue, but my cousin would not allow it.

  “Enough!” Burke barked, his eyes blazing red and demonic. A wave of animal terror swept over the establishment. The patrons scattered; even the inquisitive journalist could not stand it and rushed for the exit. A crush formed in the doorway at once. I reflexively raised a shield, and Simon attempted to attack, but was struck in the solar plexus and hit with an air spell from above. His body was drawn tight and tangled in invisible threads, like a net around a sausage. Without easing the pressure, my dear cousin turned to me.

  “Duncan, what the hell?!”

  “I broke up with Ellie because of that asshole!”

  “How?” His eyes stopped glowing. There was no one left around us, and neither Simon nor I lost control from the fear.

  “And I with Finella!” Simon added.

  “What? Ah, never mind. Olivia was supposed to write an article about us. Can you imagine what will happen now? Grandfather will tear our heads off!”

  “To hell with that! First I’ll twist his off.”

  “Buf I didn’f knof!” Bryan protested through broken teeth.

  “Don’t touch him!” Burke ordered. “I need to catch Olivia, and you need to get out of here before the police arrive. Go to the car park and wait for me there. All three of you!”

  “Hey, he’ll finish me off!” Bryan tried again. This time, without the missing consonants, he managed to speak clearly. The look on his face also said he had no wish to be left alone with us.

  “To the car park!” Burke barked, his eyes flashing. “Wait!” He snapped his fingers viciously, and the bonds around Simon vanished.

  Bryan muttered something, looking at our furious faces, and tried to make a run for it, using an illusion again. His double darted towards the back exit, and Simon took the bait, sending a bolt of lightning into its back, while I, perfectly able to tell who was where, happily landed several blows on the real one. This time the warlock managed to activate his ring with stone skin in time, but that spell does nothing to prevent broken bones, so he had to part with a few more teeth. The double melted away; Simon looked around in surprise, saw the villain in quite a different place than expected, and zapped him with lightning again, nearly roasting me in the process. McLilly lost consciousness and was thus spared further abuse.

  We hoisted the limp body under the arms and dragged it to the car park. The crowd at the door scattered to the corners the moment we approached. In the car park we nearly tore our burden in half: Simon headed towards his car, while I went in the other direction, towards the Cooper. After a brief exchange we decided to go to mine after all. We dumped McLilly on the asphalt, leaned our backs against the doors and fell into thought. Kettle began releasing tiny bolts of lightning again, making Bryan’s unconscious body twitch comically.

  “Just make sure you don’t kill him,” I said.

  My thirst for revenge had been slaked, and I remembered that McLilly had, in fact, saved my life a couple of times. He might be an insufferable asshole, but he was our asshole. If I killed him by accident, my conscience would gnaw at me, and it would reflect badly on the family, on the clan.

  “Nothing will happen to him,” Simon muttered, continuing his game. He had found a spot where only the leg jerked when struck, and kept hitting it.

  “Did you really break up with Finella?” I asked.

  “The moment she saw you, him, she flared up again, wanted to start a scene. I had to neutralise her and lead her out carefully. We quarrelled in the street, she told me to get lost, said she never wanted to see me again, hailed a cab, slammed the door and…” Simon sighed bitterly.

  “That’s rotten,” I said.

  “That’s putting it mildly. Lately she can’t control herself at all. I rather like a fiery temperament, of course, but not when she goes off the rails!” Simon released a powerful discharge that arched McLilly’s body like a bow.

  “Hey!” I stopped him and checked the poor devil’s pulse, just in case.

  The baronet stopped hurling lightning, but went on talking.

  “I know I’m no saint either. But I was trying to change! You saw it — I was changing: I practically stopped drinking, gave up smoking entirely, didn’t even think about other girls!”

  I tilted my head sceptically.

  “Practically,” Simon amended. “And I never once flirted with anyone!”

  “Perhaps because Finella might have burned you along with the object of your flirtation?”

  “She couldn’t,” Simon laughed it off. “I learned to withstand her fire magic ages ago. Shame it’s all over between us.”

  I remembered how proudly Finella had called him the love of her life, how the grass had smouldered beneath James’s feet, sighed, and confessed:

  “It’s not over yet, but it very well might be. And quite tragically. Good thing you’ve learned to resist fire magic.” I couldn’t quite bring myself to say it plainly, so I approached it from the side. “She threw fire at me outside Ellie’s house…”

  If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  “You didn’t…?”

  “She’s fine. We just had a row. James ran out when he heard the shouting…”

  “Oooh… Well, perhaps he’ll knock some sense into her. Don’t worry, James may be strict, but he loves his sister. I’d have strangled her long ago, in his place.”

  “You’ve been together six months. You haven’t strangled her.”

  “Don’t compare a sausage to a… finger. With a girl you can have the occasional blazing row. If only for the pleasure of making up afterwards,” Simon chuckled. “Nothing will happen to the little flame-devil.”

  “Nothing will happen to her… I just lost my temper a bit. I told him she’d been sleeping with you for half a year.”

  “You did what?! Are you completely..! Oh… Oh no… He’ll roast me alive! I’m off!”

  Simon pushed himself away from the Cooper and strode decisively towards his car.

  “Where are you going?” I asked.

  “That’s Blind Fire Flower, damn him! His reputation’s worse than Sledgehammer Harry’s. America or Australia — no closer! I’ll just grab my things.”

  “And what if he’s waiting for you at home?”

  Simon stopped short and turned around.

  “On the other hand, no need to rush. Could I stay at yours tonight? Will Sir Harry take me in? He won’t let me be burned, will he?”

  “You can stay at Bremor House. James won’t start a war with the clan. Lie low for a couple of days. Blind Fire will cool off, Finella will talk sense into him, things will settle.”

  “Someone ought to talk sense into her. Nothing’s going to settle now, brother, and it’s all because of that idiot!”

  Simon returned to the Cooper and kicked Bryan in the ribs. McLilly cried out and stirred.

  “Doff fifisf me…”

  Somehow we understood him.

  “We won’t, you idiot,” Kettle muttered.

  “Asshole,” I added.

  As a precaution, Bryan crawled away from us towards the neighbouring car, caught his breath and asked:

  “Fhy fid you bof sfef onf me?”

  “Didn’t catch a word,” the baronet admitted.

  “Just regenerate already,” I said.

  “Anf you fof hif me?”

  “We won’t. We won’t.”

  McLilly reached into the inner pocket of his jacket, pulled out a silver flask, gave it a shake and unscrewed the cap. The air filled with the smell of harsh spirits and grease. Grimacing and barely suppressing a gag reflex, he drained it to the last drop. The warlock’s nose, bent to one side, slid back into place with a crunch. Bryan jerked in pain, but when new teeth began to push through he could not hold back a whimper, spitting out a couple of broken ones in the process.

  “Excellent potions your clan has,” Simon remarked.

  “I doubt it,” I replied, betraying Bryan without a shred of remorse. “That was probably some sort of energy drink in the flask, the regeneration is his own magic.”

  About a minute and a half after the process ended, McLilly managed wearily: “Bastards! What did you jump me for?”

  “Finella saw you pawing that girl,” I said.

  “I stood up for Duncan and she dumped me!” Simon added.

  “And then went home,” I continued, “where she nearly roasted me and told Ellie everything!”

  “So you thrashed me over women?” McLilly protested. Kettle and I exchanged a glance and simultaneously pushed ourselves off the car. Bryan understood at once and shouted, “You promised not to hit me! Calm down. Everything’s fixable. We’ll go to your ladies and explain. But how you’ll explain today’s blunder to the Head, Duncan, I don’t know.”

  “Don’t shift the blame onto me. If you’d warned me you were going to use my face, none of this would have happened.”

  “You weren’t supposed to be at the club!”

  “I wasn’t planning to be, until Ellie and I broke up!”

  We fell silent. Bryan got to his feet and dusted off his suit.

  “Where’s Burke?” he asked.

  “Chasing the journalist,” I replied.

  McLilly took out a handkerchief and silently wiped the dried blood from his face. He was still dabbing at it when Burke returned with Olivia Foxtrot. They walked arm in arm like a proper couple. My dear cousin was singing like a nightingale, whispering something in the girl’s ear, and she nodded graciously. Olivia Foxtrot was dressed and styled in the latest fashion: a boyish haircut and a loose black sequined dress. Her figure was of the currently fashionable flat board variety. With my rustic tastes, I wouldn’t even have looked twice. I prefer girls with curves — a waist and a solid backside. No wonder Finella had called her a skinny chicken.

  “Olivia, meet my cousin Duncan. He’ll be delighted to answer all your questions.”

  I raised an eyebrow.

  “All of them,” Burke repeated pointedly, winking so hard it looked like a nervous tic.

  “And what would you like to know, my lady?”

  “First of all, I’d like to know who was so shamelessly groping my backside while wearing your face?” She shifted her gaze to Bryan.

  Burke winked again with the eye hidden from Olivia. Bryan was about to introduce himself, but I beat him to it.

  “This is Bryan McLilly, the Earl of Bremor’s personal assistant. In the clan his nickname is Important. He’s very fond of putting on airs and pretending to be other people.”

  Burke smacked his palm against his forehead, closed his eyes and groaned.

  “Right then, you idiots,” he said. “I’ve persuaded Lady Foxtrot to present tonight’s incident in a somewhat different light. Do whatever you must — drop to your knees, charm her together if you like! I’ve had enough with the owner of this fine establishment. Your antics cost me two hundred!”

  “So you had nothing to do with it?” McLilly bristled.

  “I’m the only one here thinking straight today!”

  “Your brilliant idea of impersonating Duncan got my nose broken and half my teeth knocked out!”

  “That was your idea?” Simon and I turned to Burke in perfect unison.

  “Duncan, don’t start. Even if the three of you attacked me, your level is, to put it mildly…”

  Bryan snapped his fingers, and a cloud of mist enveloped my nephew’s head and eyes. Burke jerked and activated his skin, but had no time for anything else. I punched him in the jaw, dropping the ‘mighty’ warlock onto his backside. Simon added a lightning caress which, though it did little damage, transformed Burke’s pomaded hairstyle into a dandelion.

  “Shall we do that again?” I asked.

  Burke rubbed his jaw, looked at McLilly and muttered, “Traitor,” implying that only a dirty trick robbing him of sight had allowed us to win.

  “Perhaps you’ll put on fewer airs,” Bryan replied.

  “Well yes, that’s your speciality.”

  While we were arguing over who was tougher and who was right, the journalist was visibly blooming with irrepressible delight. That radiant expression alone kept us from continuing the scuffle.

  “You really shouldn’t write about this, Lady Foxtrot,” Burke asked.

  “You promised me an interview, Lord Oldstone, but from what I see, this could fill an entire series.”

  “Or a single grave,” I muttered.

  “Empty threats, Lord Loxlin,” the journalist waved it off. “I’ve studied you for a long time, you’re far too much like Sir Harry.”

  “Sledgehammer Harry, who was responsible for considerable destruction in this city,” I reminded her, “and more than one death.”

  “Not that much destruction. You’ve nearly caught up with him, besides. And Sir Harry never harmed ordinary people. Those who died by his hand quite deserved it.”

  “You deserve something yourself, my lady. A sound thrashing, for instance.”

  “Oh, if from your hands, my lord… I happen to have a couple of excellent straps at home!”

  Touché. I had no idea what one was meant to say to that.

  “I propose a bargain,” the journalist went on. “Tonight’s incident will be presented exactly as you wish, in whatever tone you prefer. But you must feed me some delicacies. Let’s start with those werewolves your friends were trying to leak information about.”

  One had to give her credit, she’d put two and two together quickly.

  “Did you really kill three werewolves?” Olivia asked.

  “What?!” I turned to my clanmates. “Have you lost your minds?” Then I explained to the girl, “I only killed one, and that by accident!”

  “Duncan,” Burke said. “The lady meant the clan.”

  “Oh!” I realised I’d slipped.

  “The tattooed one?” Simon clarified. “On your own? How did you manage? Last time it took the whole lot of us to put one like that down.”

  “Last time?” Olivia echoed.

  For the second time Burke covered his face with his palm. Whether he was truly despairing or merely pretending, I couldn’t tell, but within five minutes we had handed Olivia a potential sensation: werewolves, secret organisations, kidnappings and conspiracies. The scribbler was practically bouncing, torn between rushing to her typewriter and hearing more. She invited us to her place, but I flatly refused. I’d had quite enough unbalanced women for one day. My cousin went instead, claiming it was unsafe to let her go alone, she might embellish things.

  “What a dog,” Bryan commented, though without condemnation, more with admiration. Then he suggested, “Home?”

  “Or perhaps we get drunk?” Simon suggested. “I haven’t been properly drunk in ages.”

  “We nearly wrecked a club sober. Drunk…” I cautioned.

  “Then a brothel?”

  “I don’t think you understood me,” I said. “Back at Ellie’s house Finella never mentioned you’d broken up. More than that, she referred to you exclusively as ‘the man I love’.”

  Simon frowned.

  “And why the devil are you confusing me? I had a clear plan: drink and girls. Now I’ve no idea what to do.”

  “Tomorrow I’ll go to your ladies,” Bryan said, “and explain everything. Stop whining.”

  “He doesn’t seem to grasp the seriousness of the situation,” Kettle observed.

  “Not in the slightest,” I agreed and beckoned Bryan over. “Come here.”

  We walked round the Cooper and stopped by the punctured door. I opened it, took the cleaver from the seat and stuck it into the hole.

  “What’s that?” McLilly asked. “Hers?”

  “Aha,” I nodded.

  “You said the Cooper could withstand a point-blank burst from a machine gun!”

  “Aha,” I nodded again.

  “Bloody hell,” Bryan swore.

  Simon gave him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder and added, “No, friend, Duncan’s girl is just the warm-up. ‘Bloody hell’ is mine, and her brother is the Bloodiest!”