Jack and Djinn (The Houri Legends, #1)(40)
Halfway through the first slow dance song, Jack’s grandfather tapped him on the shoulder. “Can I steal a dance with your lovely date, Jackie-boy?” Miriam took Séan’s huge, callused, wrinkled hand in hers and allowed herself to be led away from Jack. “So, Miss Miriam, did you take my advice, then?”
“Yes, Mr. Byrne, I did, actually. I’m here as Jack’s girlfriend this time, not just as a friend.”
“Och, no one was fooled by that line, girlie. You may have been foolin’ yourself, but not us. And call me Gramps, please. I’m old-fashioned that way, and I like you.”
“I like you, too…Gramps.” It felt odd but not uncomfortable to call this kind old man Gramps, having never known her own grandparents.
“Did Jackie tell you about my second sight?” Gramps asked.
“He did, yes. He didn’t explain it much, though. What is it?”
Gramps guffawed and shook his head. “Oh, he was being coy, he was. He knows damned well what is. He’s got it himself—he just won’t believe it, damned stubborn boy. Second sight is like prophecy. Gettin’ a glimpse of the future, you could say. Comes from havin’ the Blood of the Niall.” He looked down at Miriam, and his gaze was penetrating and serious. “I look at you, dear, and I see a girl who ain’t what she seems. You don’t know yourself, darlin’, and that’ll get you into trouble. You can’t shy away from what you are, Miriam. I ain’t sayin’ I know, but it’s plain as day that you’re something’ special, and that’s God’s own truth.”
Miriam was strangely shaken by his words. They danced through the end of the song, and she stood still when it ended, still holding his hand. “I’m just me, Gramps,” she whispered.
“No, child. You’re more.” He smiled and kissed her cheek, his whiskers scratching her face, whiskey on his breath. He handed her back to Jack, and took a seat.
“What’d Gramps say this time?” Jack wanted to know.
Miriam shook her head, not sure how to respond. “He…nothing. The truth.”
“Which, then?” Sometimes, when his accent showed through, he sounded just like his grandfather.
“Don’t worry about it, Jack. He just told me a bit about second sight.”
A moment later Miriam felt something cold strike her chest, a sense of dread creeping through her. Suddenly, Jack’s face was hard and angry. She turned around to see Ben in his full dress uniform standing less than a few feet away.
“I wasn’t invited?” Ben’s voice was low and heavy with threat. “That’s insulting. Miriam is my girlfriend, after all.”
Miriam wanted to take a step back, away from his jealousy-maddened eyes. Instead, she stepped forward, putting as much sharpened steel into her voice as she could muster. “What are you doing here, Ben? Don’t you remember what I told you, last time I saw you?”
Ben flashed a humorless, arrogant grin. “You think you can sneak around behind my back without me finding out? You’re not so hard to follow, you know. And as for your threat? You won’t do anything. Not here. There’s nothing you hate so much as making a scene. And you wouldn’t want to be embarrassed in front of all these people, would you?” He gestured to the crowd of people around them, some watching the unfolding drama, others remaining oblivious.
“Come on, Ben, not here, man. Not at my sister’s wedding,” Jack said, his voice calm but hard. “Trust me, pal, this isn’t the wedding you want to crash.” Jack stepped in front of Miriam, shielding her.
She was aware of Gramps and Jimmy and William all floating up to stand by Jack.
Ben didn’t seem fazed. “You think I’m afraid of you? A bunch of drunk micks?” There were growls and grumbles and curses at the slur.
“You should be, boy-o,” came Gramps’ voice. “You’re outnumbered by quite a fair margin.” Gramps stepped forward to stand nose to nose with Ben. Miriam realized that even though Séan Byrne was stooped with age, he was still a large man, and that he had once cut a powerful figure.
“I know you, son,” Gramps said, “I know what you done to this girl. And boy, if you know what’s good for you, you’ll get the f*ck out of here before I knock your teeth straight down your goddamn bloody throat, y’f*cking pig.” Gramps’ accent thickened as he spoke, and he seemed to straighten up, sagging muscles gaining firmness, leathery fists turning to chunks of granite.
Ben stared into Gramp’s eyes, hate seething with every breath. “I don’t hit old men,” Ben said, “or I’d kill you for that.”
Gramps huffed, mumbled a curse that Miriam didn’t quite catch, and then rocketed a one-two punch combination that sent Ben to the ground, his fists moving faster than Miriam would have thought anyone, especially an old man, could be capable of. “Don’t let that stop you, punk,” he said, turning away. “Get ’im, boys.”
Jack, Jimmy, and William darted forward, grabbed Ben by the arms and legs, and carried him out of the banquet hall. Ben was screaming and thrashing, and when the brothers launched him headfirst to the ground, he rolled away and scrambled to his feet, nose bleeding, and rushed the three Byrnes. William and Jimmy stepped aside and let Jack take the rush. Miriam watched as Jack ducked to the side, slapping Ben’s initial punch away and sending a thundering right into Ben’s face, spinning him around. Ben spat blood and scrambled backward, realizing Jack wouldn’t be an easy target. Miriam recognized the look in Ben’s eyes, and it terrified her. She’d seen him do horrible things when he was like this, and she wanted Jack to be no part of it.