The Obsidian Dagger by Brad A. LaMar Page A

How?”
    Dorian strode ahead, clearly intent in her motion. “It’s really none of your business, and this really isn’t your concern.”
    They followed her to the threshold of a little house and she turned on them. “Go back home, Yank.” She gave him a hard stare to make her point clear. “Forget everything you’ve just seen.” She marched into an old cottage leaving the siblings in the street.
    â€œBrendan, I don’t know what it is, but I think we need to help her.” Lizzie held Brendan’s gaze with conviction.
    â€œLiz…” he began, but he allowed his voice to drop off.
    â€œDon’t ask how I know that we need to help her, Brendan. I can’t answer that question. Call it a feeling or destiny or whatever, but I know this is where we were meant to be and this is what we need to do.”
    He knew that she believed it. He knew that she meant what she said. He also knew what it meant to be her protector, and from the looks of things it didn’t feel like this was going to be a pleasure walk. He turned from his sister and followed Dorian into the house.
    â€œMaybe I can help,” Brendan said hopefully.
    Lizzie chimed in too. “Maybe we can help.”
    â€œYou don’t understand what we’re dealing with here.” She shook her head as if she was continuing to talk these two crazy Americans out of trying to help in a hopeless situation.
    â€œBut it’s not dangerous for you? Come on, let me…”
    Lizzie interrupted her brother. “…us.”
    Brendan withheld an argument to squash an outburst from Lizzie. “Let… us help you.”
    Dorian ignored him, or at the least pretended that he wasn’t talking and marched past them to an old wooden cabinet. She opened the door with a loud, painful creak and began to root around. She pulled out herbs, a dusty book that probably hadn’t been opened in three hundred years, a wooden soup ladle, and six vials of the brightest fluids that the O’Neal’s had ever seen and laid the items on the table in the center of the room.
    â€œMaybe they can help,” came a voice that was very low to the ground and near the opening of the house.
    Dorian never stopped studying the items when she replied, “What can they do, Biddy? They’d just get in the way or get themselves killed.”
    â€œKilled?” Brendan blurted out before he could stop himself.
    â€œSee what I mean?” Dorian gestured his way in frustration. “He lacks the courage.”
    Brendan wanted to argue, but maybe she was right. Maybe he wasn’t the most courageous guy in the world, but he felt like he could help. He didn’t always volunteer when he probably should have back in the States, but he knew Dorian needed him. He didn’t know why, but Lizzie felt it too, so maybe that made it easier to offer.
    The little woman that Dorian referred to as Biddy screwed her eyes up in thought and considered Brendan for a moment. She looked at him longer and deeper than anyone else had ever stared at him before. It was unnerving and made him very uncomfortable.
    â€œNo,” she said after what seemed like way too long of a time to stare at a person. “You’re wrong about him. I can feel it.”
    Brendan stepped forward and put his hands on the table absently. “I’m willing to help, Dorian.” He found that his index finger was trailing back and forth on the ancient book’s spine.
    â€œMe, too,” Lizzie added enthusiastically.
    Brendan turned to his sister. “If this is life or death, Liz, then I can’t let you go.” He continued quickly before she could argue. “I’d never forgive myself if something happened to you.”
    â€œI need to go.” Her expression showed that she wasn’t backing down.
    A second small person entered the room. “Sorry, big fellow. The girl has to go.”
    â€œWait. What?”