I guessed that was why I saw but didn’t hear the blast from Ian’s sawed-off shotgun that sent the gargoyle that’d grabbed at me tumbling ass over teakettle down the street after its buddy, minus its head.
Elana pointed the still-smoking muzzle up and at an angle toward where the second gargoyle had shucked enough of the roof to wedge itself through. She fired three shots in rapid succession, and after that, all I could see was empty sky.
Elana was looking around for more targets and seemed to be a mite disappointed that there weren’t any more to be seen—at least for now. And I didn’t miss her shooting a glance over at the two leprechauns, who during the ruckus had fainted dead away on a pile of squashed coconut-covered cream puffs.
I staggered up to where Ian was. “If Danescu didn’t send those things, then who did?”
Ian kept his eyes on the sky for gargoyle reinforcements. “I think those were an upgrade from sewer leeches.”
I felt the blood drain from my face. “That wouldn’t have looked like an accident.”
“I think our culprit has passed the point of caring.”
THE beep from the tracking chip was continuous and the dot had stopped blinking.
Yasha pulled over where Ian indicated.
McDonald’s?
It was four in the morning. I was in a stolen bakery delivery truck that’d been nearly totaled by three gargoyles. In the truck with me were two hungover elves, a pair of stoned leprechauns with the munchies, a naked Russian werewolf, and a hot partner who was actually more of a bodyguard, in a race against a goblin dark mage to retrieve a leprechaun prince with a tracking chip embedded in his left ass cheek.
And the trail ended at a McDonald’s in the Bronx.
This had to be weird, even by SPI standards.
Thankfully the parking lot was empty. I scanned the roof anyway.
“No gargoyles,” I noted. “Or monkeys.”
Ian and his shotgun slid smoothly from the truck. “Maybe.” He held the barrel next to his leg, the stock resting against his hip. I had no doubt he could snap it up and take out any gargoyles like picking off ducks launching from a pond. I almost hoped they were hiding on the roof, just to watch him do it.
The agitated owner was pacing in the parking lot. To the guys, he was a middle-aged, balding man. I saw the hobgoblin that he really was. Ian started walking over to him; presumably to get some details and calm him down.
“Check it out,” Ian called back to Mike and Steve.
“Sir.”
The stolen Suburban was parked next to the door. Elana had retrieved Yasha’s clothes and was transferring the two leprechauns into it from the remains of the delivery truck. Yasha was presently being reunited with his beloved SUV, murmuring what must have been Russian endearments. He started to follow us.
“I need you to stay out here,” Ian told him. “We need to apprehend the leprechauns inside and take them home with all the pieces and parts they started the evening with.”
“I can leave arms and legs attached.”
I wasn’t convinced.
“I’m sure you can, my friend, but we need them not broken, too.” Ian wasn’t buying it, either.
“That could be a challenge,” Yasha admitted.
Mike and Steve opened the glass doors and stopped. Staring.
I walked up behind them. “They in there?”
Both agents jumped. “We’ll take care of it,” they said entirely too fast. “You don’t need to go in.”
I tensed further. “Danescu?”
“No, ma’am. Just two leprechauns, not veiled.”
“Where’s Finn?”
“Don’t see him.”
“What?” I pushed past them.
Mike was right. There were two leprechauns, and they weren’t veiled. They were in the indoor PlayPlace playground.
And they were as naked as a pair of jaybirds.
McDonald’s had rules about kids taking off their shoes before entering the PlayPlace. It was obvious that the leprechauns had decided to keep on going.
Thank God it was four in the morning. If it’d been an hour later, this neighborhood would be waking up and grabbing a coffee and a McWhatever to start their day. Anyone who set foot in here now would lose their appetites and wake up without the aid of caffeine, seeing things that were best left unseen.
One leprechaun was in the ball pit and the other was coming down the slide, his bare butt cheeks squeaking on the plastic. Neither one was Prince Finnegan.
Mike’s expression was a frozen grimace of disgust. “The owner’s going to need to hose down that ball pit and slide.”
Steve nodded. “More like powerwash. With Clorox.”
The leprechauns saw us and their eyes widened, and with a simultaneous squeak, both dove into the ball pit. Without hesitation, Mike and Steve ran across the restaurant and jumped in after them.
I came inside, letting the door close behind me. Ian would be in here any second, but in the meantime, I was going to find myself a leprechaun prince. I scanned the interior of the restaurant. The owner was still outside with Ian, and from all appearances, there wasn’t another soul in here. Behind me came the sounds of thrashing and balls being thrown.
“Son of a bitch bit my ankle!” Steve spat. Then he switched from English to Elvish for a few more choice words.
I detected movement behind the counter. Thankfully, it wasn’t tall enough to be Rake Danescu. Though I couldn’t imagine the goblin in a Mickey D’s in the Bronx with naked leprechauns. No amount of wishes could be worth that.
I peeked around the edge of the counter. Now that was a health code violation.
Prince Finnegan’s bare butt was perched on the edge of the steel counter, head tilted back with his open mouth under the nozzle of the soft serve ice cream machine.
He saw me and sat up, but took his sweet time doing it. He smiled and wiped the chocolate ice cream from the corner of his mouth with the back of one hand, leaving a smear across his face.
Oh yeah, the prince was a real class act.
“I escaped,” he said.
“Congratulations.”
“You don’t sound happy. We’re celebrating. Join us.”
“Celebrating what? That you and Rake Danescu were able to . . . let’s see, how did you say it? Conduct your business in a civilized manner after you cleansed the human and elf stain from his place of business.”
Finn laughed. “Mere words, love. The best way to escape a madman is to forge a connection with him, to have similar goals. A tactic, nothing more.”
“Uh-huh. As one of the aforementioned stains, I don’t appreciate your tactics.”
The leprechaun’s humor vanished as quickly as his clothes probably had. “And I don’t appreciate SPI’s interference. I did not ask for protection. If you hadn’t come after us, the goblin wouldn’t have found me. You led those goblins to us.” His smile slid into a chocolate-smeared smirk. “When you look at it that way, human, this is all your doing, not mine.”
I wasn’t going to take the bait.
“You set us up,” I said.
“Now what would be in that for me? Besides the satisfaction of making SPI look like witless fools. Which, as you must admit, didn’t take any effort on my part.”
“You tell me. What was in it for you?” I stopped merely looking at him, and locked eyes with the leprechaun. “Wish number one: Tell me who paid you to set us up.”
Finn chuckled. “Hmm, perhaps not as witless as I presumed. Very well, seer. Your answer: I do not know. And if you are truly not witless, then you know that I cannot speak a lie while under wish compulsion.”
Damn, he was right. “What did they give you in payment?”
“Your second wish?”
“It is.”
“I received an anonymous and most generous wedding gift of one hundred bars of gold. In the Seelie Court, favors are often exchanged anonymously. The gift was given with the provision that I lose my SPI bodyguards—making SPI look incompetent, which was a fond wish of mine—and after that, I was to go to Bacchanalia.”