Magical Midlife Battle （Leveling Up, #8）(86)

She huffed out a little laugh, her hands braced on her hips. Tilting her head, she stared at the floor for a moment before looking back up and searing Tristan with a glare. Her eyes shimmered just a little, as though she might cry, before she started off down the hall without another word.

Sebastian stared after her, his shoulders hunched. “She was the one who said that Momar would act fast once his mages started disappearing. There was already that one in the garage, and now there might be more tonight. He’ll know something is up.” He sighed softly. “I didn’t know she’d react like that. I can always put a glamour over her face. Apparently I make very ugly false faces.”

“We don’t need everyone for everything,” Austin Steele said, a little crease between his brows.

He hadn’t anticipated she’d react like that either. “Let’s get tonight underway. Keep your heads down.

Do not create a situation that will reflect unfavorably on the pack.”

“Yes, alpha,” they said in unison.

“Let me know if our trap catches a mouse, yes?”

“Yes, alpha,” they repeated.

“Good luck.”

As they headed for the door, Sebastian still clearly feeling guilty, Niamh fell in next to Tristan.

“Ye don’t seem put out by Nessa’s reaction,” she said. “Or seem to have an ounce of guilt.”

“Nope.”

“And why is that? Grudge match? Proving you have the louder voice in this pack, or whatever we’re calling it now?”

“Neither. She doesn’t want to be a monster, and there’s no reason she has to be. I’m perfectly fine taking the morally questionable jobs so she can keep her hands clean.”

Niamh nodded slowly. Suddenly the situation with the mage in the garage made a lot more sense.

“Noble,” she said as they reached the front door. He held it open for her. “But yer doin’ it wrong.”

“Why is that?”

“She doesn’t know whether she’s fine bein’ a monster, as ye say—I take offense to that, by the way. That must mean I’m a monster, too, since I don’t mind any of this one bit. It’s natural, like. Kill or be killed.”

“If the shoe fits.”

“I’ll tell ye what wears shoes—donkeys. If I’m a monster, yer a donkey, how’s that?”

“Actually, most donkeys have sturdy hooves and don’t need shoes. But that’s fine. I’ll be the ass of the outfit if that makes you feel better.”

She huffed. “Well, anyway, Nessa’s path in life was chosen for her. She’s looking at that white picket fence and nice yard and annoyin’ neighbors and thinking that’s what her life should’ve been.

Maybe that’s what it would’ve been, if she’d been allowed to choose for herself. But her life was

forced on her by circumstance, wasn’t it, Sebastian?”

“Yes, unfortunately,” he said quietly.

“It’s the grass is always greener situation,” Niamh went on as they reached the front yard. “What she really wants is a decision about where her life goes next. We all do. Yer takin’ that away from her.

Yer forcing her in the other direction and telling her it’s good fer her. Yer using yer position to take away her power, like. With a woman like her, that’ll mean yer head, just you wait.”

He slowed to a stop in the driveway. “She told me what she wanted in the form of wishful thinking and emotionally breaking down about the life she had. She told me her dreams, and also what she hated. I’m just carrying it out. Is that not a choice? I’m not afraid of her violence if I’m helping her rest a little easier.”

“That’s not her choosing a life path. That’s her struggling with her demons. Different thing.” She tsked in annoyance, pulling off her muumuu. “Men are daft. They think they have all the answers. They try to decide what’s good for women without bothering to understand a woman’s wants and needs, and then wonder why the women aren’t grateful. A bunch of wankers, if ye ask me. And yes, I’m talking about ye, Tristan, specifically, in case that wasn’t clear.”

Tristan studied her silently for a long moment before looking back toward the house. “It was plenty clear.”

“Too late now, though. We don’t have time to change things up.” Niamh realized she’d forgotten her satchel and lacked a proper change of clothes. “Here, Sebastian, run over to the porch there and grab me satchel, would ya? I can’t be wearing a muumuu to a Dick bar, like. They’ll take all sorts of notice.”

“I think it’s sweet what you’re attempting,” Sebastian said to Tristan after he did as Niamh had asked. “She’s never had anyone try to look out for her like you’re doing. She usually gives more than she receives. But Niamh is right, I guess. I never really thought of it that way, but it makes sense.” He held on to the satchel, knowing that he’d be riding on her back and therefore carrying it. “And you should be afraid of her violence. Jessie makes Nessa pretty tame. It’s easy to feel safe here. But you haven’t even seen Nessa’s wild side. What she’s capable of when she feels threatened. Not even close.”

“What’s the plan with Edgar, by the way?” Tristan asked after stowing his clothes in the satchel with Niamh’s. He clearly wasn’t worried about Nessa’s wildness. He’d have to find out the hard way. Hopefully. “I thought he was part of this.”