How droll." He loosened his neck by pulling his head to one side, then the other.
His accent was so heavy it was hard to decipher.
Intruder, I thought, not hintruder.
"Droll?" I tried it, then shook my head.
"Fateful, rather.
At least for you." When in doubt, sound confident--it confuses the guys who are about to wipe the floor with you.
It helped that I had a secret weapon.
"What have you done with Phin?" "Phin?" He came down three steps and paused with a smile.
I think he was waiting for me to run--or, like a bored cat, drawing out the pleasure of the kill.
A lot of fae are predators by nature, and among the things they like to eat are people.
"Phin is the owner of this bookstore." My voice was steady.
I don't think I was getting braver, but after all the things that had happened lately, being frightened had lost its novelty.
"Maybe oye et 'im." He smiled.
His teeth were sharper than a human's--and there were more of them.
"Maybe you're a fae and can't lie," I told him.
"So you should stick to the facts instead of trying my patience with `maybes.' Like where is Phin?" He raised his left hand and gestured at me.
Faint green sparkles stretched out between us and hung in the air for a moment until one touched me.
It fell and took the others with it.
They glittered on the floor, then winked out.
"What are you?" he asked, tilting his head like a puzzled wolf.
"You ain't witch.
Oi can feels witches in moy 'ead." "Stop right there," I said, pulling the SIG from its holster.
"Are you threatening me with that?" He laughed.
So I shot him.
Three times over the heart.
It knocked him back but not down.
I remembered, from my reading of Phin's book, that not all the fae have their organs in exactly the same places that we do.
Maybe I should have aimed for his head.
I raised the gun to make certain of my target and watched him sink through the wooden stairs like a ghost.
He left the butcher knife and his apron behind.