Who Needs Enemies

Yet was it natural to be sitting in darkness gloating about justice being done? And how was it justice for five people to be dead, and three of them unconnected to Mona in any way?



Ceri reached across the table and clasped my hand. “You may not want to believe,” she said, voice gentle. “But you really do have to consider the possibility that Lyle might be behind this whole damn mess.”



“No,” I repeated, but with less force this time. The seed had been planted, and there was no escaping it now. It would haunt me until I uncovered the truth, one way or the other.



“And if he is behind it all,” she continued. “You might be in danger yourself.”



“He won’t come after me.”



“Why?” She leaned back and arched an eyebrow. “If he’s set up his nephew—a full blood kin—to take the fall for a murder he didn’t commit, what makes you think he’d have any problems dealing with you should you become too much of a problem?”



“He won’t come after me.” I had to believe that, if nothing else. I might not be a full blood relative, but surely all our years of friendship had to mean something.



But I remembered the spite in his voice when he’d called me half-breed earlier tonight, and shivered.



She sighed softly. “You place an awful lot of faith in your family and friends, Harri. Even the ones who don’t seem to deserve it.”



“I have to, because in the end, that’s all I have.” I glanced at the clock and echoed her sigh. It was after one—way past time for me to be hitting the sack. “I’ll worry about it all in the morning.”



“Which is my cue to head upstairs and play freecell. Which, by the way, is the only thing we can play on our old laptop since your damn father swiped the desktops. When are you going to get them back?”



I snorted softly. “Given he thinks I’m responsible for setting up Gilroy, probably never.”



“Your father is an idiot,” Guy said, as he walked into the room. “And you’re out of beer, by the way.”



“A disaster,” I said dryly. “Especially at one in the morning.”



“Hey, an ogre is entitled to a night cap, isn’t he?”



I shook my head, wondering why medical science had never untaken a study of ogre constitutions, because they certainly never seemed to blow over the limit in any alcohol test, no matter how much they’d been drinking. I walked across the room and grabbed one of the shiny new keys from the hooks behind the door. “I’m off to bed and Ceri is going up to the office. Use the key. I don’t want the lock busted again.”



His grin was one of sheer delight. “My own key? Now that is true friendship.”



“No, it’s an attempt to save myself some money on broken locks and doors. And if you don’t go now, you won’t get your beer. They close at two.”



“I am the wind,” he said, and dropped a fart as he left.



“That,” Ceri said severely. “Was disgusting.”



I couldn’t say anything. I was too busy not breathing. I waved good night to Ceri and headed for my bedroom. I was half undressed when someone knocked at the door. Wondering if we finally had another customer, I walked over to the front window to check them out. It certainly couldn’t be Guy—he rarely knocked and besides, he now had a key. I pushed aside the curtains, but couldn’t see any unfamiliar cars parked out the front. And if they were standing near the door, they weren’t visible from this angle.



Whoever it was knocked again. It sounded more impatient this time.



“You want me to get that?” Ceri yelled from upstairs.



“No!” I grabbed my sweater, pulling it on as I opened the front door. “I’m still awa-”



The rest of the sentence froze in the back of my throat. It wasn’t a friend, but it was someone I knew.



Goliath.



Chapter Eleven



I’d barely even registered his presence when his fist buried itself into my stomach and sent me flying back down the hallway. I crashed into the wall hard enough to dent the plaster and fell to the floor in a heap, struggling to breathe and fighting blackness.



There was a scramble of movement from the living room, then Moe and Curly appeared in the doorway. They took one look at me then launched themselves at Goliath. He shook them off as easily as a dog might water—Moe crashed out the front door and Curly landed in a heap near the stairs.



“Fucking hell, what’s going on-” Ceri appeared at the top of the stairs and her face went white. “Run, Harri. I’ll call the cops.”



Great idea, I thought. Except my legs didn’t want to support my weight and I couldn’t seem to get any air into my lungs. Somehow, I forced myself onto my hands and knees. The hallway did a three-sixty degree dance around me and my stomach suddenly seemed intent on viewing my tonsils.



Goliath clomped towards me, the floor vibrating with every step. “You broke my head,” he growled. “For that you pay.”



Meaning it wasn’t my father who’d sent this bastard here this time, but a simple matter of revenge?



It was a question I quickly shoved aside as Goliath drew close. I struggled to my feet, my breath hissing through clenched teeth. Air screamed behind me and I ducked instinctively. The blow that would have smashed my head into the wall hit the plaster instead, sending debris and dust everywhere.



Moe reappeared, tackling Goliath hard and forcing him to his knees. The troll roared and smacked backward with an elbow, smashing it into Moe’s nose and sending blood and snot flying everywhere. He hung on though, ignoring the blows, slowing the troll’s movement toward me but not stopping him.



I staggered into the kitchen, my gaze searching the counters for a weapon. Any weapon would do, but it had better be something big, like the shovel. Something I didn’t have to get close with to use. A knife was definitely out—the bastard had arms like a gorilla and would catch me long before I got anywhere near enough to use it.



Another roar echoed. Moe, not the troll. God, how the hell was Keale sleeping though all this?



Footsteps echoed behind me—troll steps. They were too heavy to be Moe’s or Curly’s. I cursed and dove for the nearest remotely dangerous thing—the toaster. I ripped the power cord free from the wall then spun as the troll came into the kitchen, dragging a bloodied Moe and Curly behind him like deadweights. I swung the toaster over my head and hammer threw it at the troll. He didn’t see it soon enough, and the appliance hit him square in the face, shattering his nose and smearing blood everywhere. He roared again, took two quick steps, and lashed out. I ducked, but no where near fast enough. The blow caught my left side and sent me spinning into dishwasher.



The two ogres grabbed the troll again and dragged him back into the hall. Goliath lashed backward with a booted foot, catching Moe in the balls and dropping him like a stone. Curly wrapped an arm around the troll’s neck, and punched him in the face with his free hand. The troll reached back, grabbed a fistful of hair, and yanked down. The ogre yelped as the hair was torn from his head, but kept on punching. The troll growled then grabbed Curly’s arm, forcing it away from his throat before spinning and hitting the ogre square in the jaw. Curly went down as fast as Moe had.



Leaving me and the troll.



Fabulous.



I pushed upright. Pain shot through my side, a red-hot agony that tore a gasp from my throat. The troll grinned, his beady eyes alight with anticipation.



“Now you pay,” he growled.



“Not so fast, buddy,” Ceri said, appearing out of the shadowed hallway. “One move, and I’ll shoot.”



The troll spun and studied her for a moment, then his gaze dropped to the weapon in Ceri’s hand. It was a taser, but one of the ones designed to cater for non-humans. The troll sneered and I didn’t actually blame him. I don’t think the manufacturers had someone Goliath’s size in mind when they were developing their product.



“Try it,” he said, and spread his massive arms wide, presenting her with his entire chest.



She fired. The twin projectiles flew unerringly towards his chest, piecing his clothes and skin. The troll’s muscles jumped erratically, but there was little other effect. It certainly didn’t bring him down.



Ceri swore, then threw the weapon to one side and took several steps before launching herself feet first at the troll. She was a big woman, with a body mass that was heavier than a regular human’s thanks to her gargoyle heritage, but she made as little impact on the troll as the ogres did. Goliath laughed and reached for her as she flipped elegantly back to her feet. She ducked, smashed her fist against the side of his head, then danced out of the way.



“What the fuck...?” Guy said from the doorway. His gaze swept me, Ceri, and the troll, then he flipped the slab of beer he was carrying from his shoulder and, in a two handed grip, smashed it across the troll’s head.



Beer and cans exploded everywhere. The troll staggered sideways several steps, but all too quickly caught his balance.



“Don’t touch the head!” he roared, and swung a fist wildly at Guy. It hit the nearby cupboard instead, disintegrating the old door and sending bits of crockery everywhere. If we kept fighting in here, I wasn’t going to have a house left.



“Guy, outside,” I gasped.



The ogre didn’t hesitate, just charged the troll and hit him full tilt, roaring in effort as he picked the monster up and staggered toward the backdoor. Ceri somehow got in front of them, opening the door then skipping out of the way. The troll swore and punched and kicked, but Guy ignored everything, throwing them both out the door and down the steps.



I staggered after them, and grabbed the shovel that still leaned against the stair rail. I raised it above my head, but there was absolutely no way I could unleash a blow because there were arms and legs going everywhere and it was hard to tell which belonged to the ogre and which to the troll.



“Fuck,” Ceri said, “Is there any stopping this bastard?”



“Hit his head with something solid. Worked last time.”