Hexed_ The Iron Druid Chronicles - Kevin Hearne [64]
“You’re giving me commands? You just tried to fry me and you want me to obey you now? I’m sorry, that’s not how it works. And you’re the one who said I was fit to wield this sword.”
“You said you’d never wield it against me!” she blazed.
“True,” I admitted, “but that was before you tried to kill me.”
Her eyes shifted to find Oberon. “Release me now or—”
She stopped as I pressed Fragarach to the hollow of her throat. “Understand me, Brighid: If you ever hurt Oberon, your very long life will end directly afterward. You know I can move between the planes as I wish; there is no place you can run that I cannot follow.”
“You dare threaten me, a guest in your home?”
“You tossed out all the rules when you lost your temper. So we’re going to have a nice, long talk, you and I, and Fragarach will make sure you are not deceitful.”
Thanks, buddy. “Please take a moment first to put out the fires you started.” “Why shouldn’t I let the whole house burn?” “Because that would be rude when it’s a simple matter for you to put them out. Please put them out so we may talk peaceably.” “Peaceably?” Brighid sneered. “With a sword at my neck?” “Touché. But this would not be necessary had you acted with restraint. I ask you politely once more: Will you put out the fires?” “What’s next? Torture if I refuse?” “No, I’m not the Inquisition. I will find other means to put them out if you will not.” Fragarach could not compel her to act; it could only compel answers. I had a fire extinguisher in the garage, and I’d have to drag her there and back if she didn’t agree. The goddess of fire grimaced but focused on something behind me and growled in Irish, “Múchaim.” Then she focused on me and said, “It is done.” Is it done? I asked Oberon. “Of course I did,” Brighid said, reminding us that she could hear Oberon. “Thank you.” I nodded, as smoke roiled near the ceiling. “Let’s be seated, shall we?” I moved the sword slowly, allowing Brighid to shuffle in an undignified way to a chair at the kitchen table, then lowered it by degrees until she was able to sit down. I took a seat across from her, moving her ale out of the way. “Excellent. Now let’s review what happened here, shall we? You showed up uninvited and I welcomed you in. I offered you refreshment and you accepted. You made a proposal to me and I said I would think about it. You ripped off my shirt and then tried to kill me. Now I ask you, which part of that sequence of events breaks every law of hospitality known to our race?” “You left out the part where you fornicated with the Morrigan.” “Not while you were here. Answer my question.” Sullenly, Brighid said, “The part where I ripped off your shirt was a minor breach of hospitality.” “We are making excellent progress,” I enthused. “How about the part where you tried to kill me? Was that not also poor conduct for a guest?” “Yes—strictly speaking. But you gave me cause!” “No, Brighid, I did not. If I had agreed to be your consort first and then fornicated with the Morrigan in front of you with Def Leppard on the stereo, then that would have been cause to incinerate me on the spot. But I am a free man and I gave you no such cause. And beyond that, I cannot fathom why you’d react like a jilted high school girl. This wasn’t done out of jealousy, was it?” “No,” Brighid said. “I was not motivated by jealousy.” “I thought not. And did you propose that I become your consort out of any true affection for me?” “No.” “Of course not. Before we get to the real reason you asked me to be your consort, I would like to address your accusation. If I were truly ‘the Morrigan’s creature,’ as you put it, then I could have killed you already, and indeed I should have and would have. We would not be talking right now if I were beholden to her will or if I were part of some evil plot to usurp you.” “Then what is between you?” Brighid asked. “She regenerated my ear for me,” I said, flicking the lobe. “Sex magic.” Brighid flinched. “I did not know you had